#shrimp emotions you could say (screaming

[dreadark]

99% of liars come clean right before they figure out the lie that makes their facade flawless, just keep that act up and when you reach salvation through falsehood I'm sure you'll finally be able to delude yourself too...!

[itneverendshere]

Just saw the new popular movie ’’This ends with us’’ and I beg of you to draw from the actual beautiful love story, so pure! So same concept of the love story: Pouge!Rafe has been kicked out by his mom and her abusive boyfriend, Kook!Reader sees him homeless & hiding. Reader does small acts of kindness, which builds up to a romance but they separate for whatever reason (could be because they get discovered, he joins the military, like the movie, or something different). It could also be reversed with Pouge!Reader instead being homeless, you pick! Years go by, Reader meets an abusive partner, she bumps into a now grown up Rafe. Lots of angst, lingering feelings and longing, he sees the signs of abusive and gets protective. But without the movie plots of reader getting pregnant and married) I adore and worship your writing skills, truly have a gift to make you feel all the emotions!! <3333333

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (one)

i loooove this request because pogue!rafe so i decided to turn into a mini series (two or three parts). im personally not a fan of it ends with us, but i love your requests bc it's still very different from the original plot.

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

Rafe was born rough around the edges.

There was never any sugar-coating about it; with his hair always messy, sun-bleached and salty, and his hands perpetually stained with the grime of whatever job he'd taken up that week, Rafe Cameron had never known peace. He moved like a stray dog that had learned to fend for itself, his eyes always scanning for trouble. 

Most people kept their distance, and he liked it that way.

There wasn’t much softness in his life. His mom tried her best, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much. She had a new boyfriend every few months, and they were all the same — mean, drunk, and looking for a fight. Rafe learned early on that if you couldn’t fight back, you were nothing. So he fought. A lot.

He fought the men who walked into their house at night, stinking of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He fought the kids at school who called him trash, who mocked the way his clothes never quite fit or how he always seemed a little too hungry. But mostly, he fought himself — every time he looked in the mirror and saw his father’s eyes staring back at him. The man who left and never looked back. 

Another piece of shit. 

He kept his head down, kept his hands busy, and kept his mouth shut unless he had something to say. He wasn’t nice. Nice got you nowhere; nice got you used, broken, and left behind. He had seen it too many times to believe otherwise. The world wasn’t a kind place, and he wasn’t a kind guy. 

Most days, he’d finish work covered in sweat and salt, with just enough money in his pocket to get by. He'd dropped out of school years ago and head to the docks, sit on the edge, and smoke a cigarette while the sun dipped below the horizon.

The only real moment of peace he had.

Rafe took what work he could find — fixing up old fishing boats for the few Kooks who’d dare come down his side of the Cut, pulling shrimp nets in the dead hours of the morning, his back aching and his muscles screaming at such a young age, but at least it was better than being home. If he could call it that.

Home, where his mom was probably passed out again, where the latest loser she'd dragged in might be passed out on the couch or looking for a fight.

He could hear them shouting before he even got to the door. His mom’s voice screaming her throat out, and he could hear something crashing inside — a glass, maybe, or a plate. Then came the matching scream of the new boyfriend, Tony or Tommy or something — they all blurred together after a while. Rafe paused on the porch, his hand hovering over the door handle, debating whether it was worth going in at all.

Inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room, her face flushed, her blonde hair a mess. Tony stood over her, fists clenched, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. 

Rafe knew that look. 

He’d seen it before — seen it in a dozen men who thought they could push their weight around, thought they could break whatever they wanted.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

Tony turned, eyes narrowing. “None of your damn business, boy.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists balling up instinctively. “If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”

His mom spun around to face him, her eyes wild and desperate. “Just stay out of it, Rafe. You always have to make things worse!”

He felt the sting of her words. He should be used to it by now. “I’m not the one who brought this piece of shit in here.”

That was all it took. Tony lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall. Rafe felt the air rush out of his lungs as pain flared in his back. “You watch your mouth, punk,” Tony hissed, his face inches from his, his breath a disgusting mix of beer and god knows what.

“Or what?” Rafe shot back. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was how to keep his anger in check — at least most of the time.

Tony’s eyes flicked to his mom, like he was making a point, and she just stood there, watching. He’d lost his faith in her a long time ago but it still blew him away how she never lifted a finger to help him. 

“Get out,” she said finally, hand moving to point towards the bust-up wooden door.

“What?” Rafe blinked, caught off guard. He must’ve heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Get out!” She was shouting now, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I can’t have you here, always stirring things up! You make everything worse!”

It had to be a fucking joke. He was the only one bringing in money to pay the rent, the only one who kept the house clean enough so it wouldn’t look or smell like someone died in there. Paid the hospital bills when they hit her too hard. He did everything, always. 

Tony shoved him again, harder this time, toward the open door. “You heard her. Get the hell out.”

Rafe stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell. He looked at his mom, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. “You’re really gonna choose him over your own son?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just go, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.”

He forced himself to nod. He almost wanted to laugh. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Tony and heading for the door. “Don’t call me when he sends you to the hospital again.”

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit his face like a slap, the kind that made his eyes sting and his heart pound. Things had never gotten to this point before. He would’ve rather taken a beating then get kicked out. 

He walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not ever. He’d die before he begged his mother or Tony to let him in that shithole again. His feet took him along the edge of town, past the marina and the fishing docks, and eventually, he found himself in the wealthy part of town, near Figure 8.

It was ironic, almost funny.

The Kooks lived here, the ones who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they saw him on their streets. And here he was, a beat-up pogue, walking right through their territory, angry and suddenly so damn tired.

He spotted an old, abandoned house, sitting at the end of a street where the mansions stood tall and proud. He had walked by it a few times before and noticed it had been empty for years, the paint peeling off in strips, the windows boarded up, and the grass overgrown. He crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and pushed the broken gate open. The hinges squeaked loudly, proving just how long it had been since someone had been there.

The front door was unlocked; it opened with the slightest push. Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, but it was dry, and it was quiet. It was enough. He made his way to a small room in the back, what must have once been a kitchen. There was an old sofa left behind, covered in a dirty sheet. He pulled the sheet off, threw it in a corner, and sank onto the sofá, finally breathing properly. 

He stayed there, staring at the cracked ceiling and the empty walls, wondering how the fuck he was going to get himself out of this one. 

For the two next days, he moved carefully, quietly, in and out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to know he was staying there. He wasn’t getting his ass thrown into jail again. He found a way in through the back window, kept to the dimly lighted areas, and avoided the main roads. He didn't have much — a few changes of clothes, some cash from odd jobs, and his dad’s old pocketknife, the only thing he had left of the bastard.

It was on the third day that he saw you.

He was sitting on the front steps, having a cigarette, when he heard the sound of a bike chain clicking. He glanced up, and there you were — riding a yellow bike, hair pulled back, and eyes glued to him as you pedaled down the street.

He stiffened, quickly stubbing out the cigarette, his heart rate picking up. You were one of them, a Kook, from one of the mansions just a block away. He’d seen you before, always biking around town, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.

He didn’t know you, didn’t even know your name, but he knew the type.

You saw him, too, and slowed your bike. His first thought was to get up and disappear back into the house, but he knew that would look suspicious. So he stayed put, trying to look casual, as if he belonged there.

You stopped a few feet away, still on your stupid bike, one foot on the ground to steady yourself.

“You live here?” You asked, not in a mean way, just curious.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he lied, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Just… didn’t think anyone did. Looks pretty empty.”

He tensed, waiting for you to say something like, “I’m going to tell someone,” or worse, to start asking more questions. But instead, you just gave him another curious look, nodded, and biked away.

Weird girl.

The next day, you were back. This time, you had a bag with you. He watched you approach, wary. You stopped in front of the house and took something out of the bag — a sandwich, wrapped in paper, and a bottle of water.

You held them out to him, a gentle smile on your face, “Figured you might be hungry.”

He thought maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, some Kook guilt thing, like feeding the stray cat in the alley so you could pat yourself on the back for being such a nice person.

And he hated that. Hated you for even thinking he needed your stupid charity. So he gave you every reason to leave him alone.

When you handed him that sandwich, he barely even looked at you.

He just grabbed it and then turned his back, heading into the house without another word. But the next day, you were there again. And the next.

He started making it obvious he didn’t want you around. He’d grunt when you said hello, roll his eyes when you tried to make small talk.

One time, you offered him an apple, and he snatched it out of your hand without a word, just to see if you’d get annoyed enough to leave. You didn’t. Like some fucking saint.

Instead, you kept coming back, like some sort of annoying, persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. Every time, your smile was a little nicer, your eyes a little more curious.

He didn't get it. Why the hell were you still trying? Didn’t you get it? He didn’t want you here. Didn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t need shit from a Kook.

“What’s your problem?” he muttered one day when you showed up with a bag of groceries.

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“You keep coming back here like I asked you to. I didn’t. I don’t need your charity.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, still not leaving. “I’m not doing charity. I jut figured you could use a little help.”

He scoffed, turning his back on you again. “I don’t need anything from you, princess.”

You hesitated, then placed the bag on the steps anyway. “Well, it’s here if you do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Great. Another pity gift from the rich kid. Thank you so much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clenched your jaw, but still didn’t leave. He expected you to finally get the hint, but you just shook your head and walked away.

The next day, you there you were. And the day after that. Always bringing something, always with that same annoying, stubborn smile.

By the end of the week, he was done. You rolled up with another bag, and before you could even open your mouth, he let out a loud groan, throwing his head back. 

"For fuck’s sake, don’t you have anything better to do than bother me every damn day?”

That was it — you snapped.

Your eyes flared, and you stepped in closer, voice getting louder. "Will you just eat the damn food before I throw it in your face?" You shouted, cheeks going red with frustration.

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t expect you to clap back.

You’d been silent and too sweet for his liking. Most Kooks would’ve run back to their fancy houses by now, but you were still standing your ground, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Cute.

He almost laughed. Almost. “What’s your deal? You think you’re some kind of hero bringing food to the poor pogue? You think you're gon' save me or something?”

You glared at him “I’m not trying to save you, jerk! I’m just trying to be a decent human! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

He stared at you, face set in a deadpan, but he felt something— something he hadn’t felt in a while. Respect, maybe? But for some reason, he didn’t tell you to get lost.

Instead, he snatched the bag out of your dainty small hand. “Fine. I’ll eat your stupid food. But don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”

You both stood there in this weird silence for a minute, glaring at each other. Then you shook your head, and smiled like you hadn’t read him to filth ten seconds ago. “See you tomorrow, Rafe.”

What? You knew his name?

He watched as you rode away and he realized he was grinning, just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel completely alone.

And somehow, that pissed him off even more.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept showing up, like a plague.

No matter how much Rafe grumbled, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath, you just kept coming back. It was always something small — fruit, a bottle of water, a warm meal in a container. Every time you showed up, you had that same stubborn look in your eyes, like you weren’t going to back down no matter how much he pushed you away.

He hated to admit it, but he started to look forward to your little visits. He hated even more that he noticed things about you. Like how your hair fell in your face when you leaned over to hand him something or how your laugh sounded when he said something sarcastic. He noticed the way you seemed to care, even when he made it clear he didn’t want you to.

One day, you showed up with a duffel bag. Rafe looked at you suspiciously as you parked your bike and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“What now?” he grunted, eyeing the bag like it might bite him.

He could tell you were nervous and that weirded him out even more. Since when could he read your mind? 

“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come to my house. Just to shower and get some real rest. My parents are out of town, and y’know, you could use it.”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head. “You want me to come to your house?”

You nodded, looking a little unsure now, hands tightening around the bag’s strap, “Yeah. Just for a bit. I thought you might like a break from this place.”

He scoffed. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You think I’m gonna be some charity case you can parade around to make yourself feel good?”

You sighed, clearly getting frustrated. “No, Rafe. I just thought… I just thought you might want a hot shower. But if you don’t, that’s fine.”

He usually cleaned himself up near the docks, but the water was freezing during this time of the year. Every time it felt like his balls were going to drop to the floor. So yeah, a hot shower in a big mansion sounded tempting.

Even if he didn’t want to give you that satisfaction.

A hot shower… a real bed, even for a little while. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. He looked at you again, trying to figure out if this was some kind of sick twisted plan, but all he saw were those stupid glowing eyes staring him down like he’d be dumb to refuse you. 

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up. “But just for a shower. And if you try anything weird, ’m outta there.”

Your nose scrunched up, “As if.”

Your house was everything he expected from a Kook — big, clean, and way too fancy. He felt out of place the moment he stepped through the gigantic door, like he was tracking mud on a white carpet. You led him upstairs, pointing out the bathroom.

“You can use this one. Towels are in the cabinet, and I’ll leave some clothes outside if you want them.”

Rafe grunted in response, still unsure why he was even there. He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment. The place smelled like lavender or some other fancy soap he couldn’t name. He turned on the shower, and the hot water poured out instantly, filling the room with steam.

He stripped off his dirty clothes and stepped under the water, hissing as the heat hit his skin. But then he relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime, the salt, the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. He stayed under the spray longer than he should have, almost losing track of time.

When he finally got out, he saw the clothes you’d left outside the door — a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing flashy, but clean. He put them on and headed back downstairs, finding you in the kitchen, making coffee.

You looked up when he entered, “Feel better?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

You handed him a cup of coffee, and he took it reluctantly, still waiting for the catch. But you just sat across from him at the kitchen island, sipping your own cup, not saying anything.

He found himself watching you, noticing the little things again.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped against the mug when you were thinking. He hated that he was noticing, hated that he found any of it interesting. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled when it tasted good, because of course it did.

“You do this shit for everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured around. “Invite random guys to your house, make them coffee, act like you care.”

You laughed, a light sound that made his chest feel weird. “No. Just you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked away, taking another sip of coffee. He didn’t do nice. He wasn’t used to nice. This was weird.

You kept doing these little things for him — small acts of kindness he didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t deserve. You’d leave extra food by the house when you knew he’d be there, sometimes even a blanket or a pillow you said you didn’t need. You’d offer to let him use the house again, and every once in a while, he’d accept, hating how much he craved the simple comfort of a shower or a bed.

And all the while, he stayed the same — gruff, sarcastic, always trying to push you away with his attitude. But you didn’t go. You took his crap and came back.

One night, after a particularly rough day where everything seemed to go wrong, he found himself standing outside your house again. Your parents were out of town again, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hated that he was here, hated that he needed this, but he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, your face lit up with that familiar smile. “Rafe,” you said, voice warm. “Come in.”

He liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

He hesitated, but he did. You led him to the living room, and he noticed a few things this time — the family photos on the walls, a vase of flowers on the table, the soft throw blanket on the couch.

Your home was nothing like his, but it felt… safe.

They sat in silence for a while, and he noticed how you didn’t bother him with questions, didn’t try to fix anything. You just sat there, close but not too close, letting him breathe. He found himself looking at you more, catching the way your lips curled up at the corners, how your eyes seemed to soften whenever they landed on him. He felt something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He sat on that big couch, staring at his busted-up hands, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You were just a few feet away, eyes flicking over to him now and then, like you were waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t know what to say.

He felt… uncomfortable. Not because of the place, or you. No, never because of you. But because of this strange feeling that kept crawling up his spine, making him feel restless.

You were sitting on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under you, looking at him with that familiar, gentle expression that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up. He didn’t know what to do with that. You were the kind of girl who should have nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, again and again, showing up, like you didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat, trying to push back whatever weird tension was building between you. “So… your parents,” he muttered. “They’re out of town a lot?”

You nodded, sighing, “Yeah. They travel for work. I’m used to it.”

“Must be nice,” he said, but his voice came out rougher than what he was going for. He didn’t know how to do gentle and he was still half-convinced you were going to kick him out or tell him you had enough of his crap.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “But it gets lonely, too.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He glanced at you trying to read you. He knew you weren’t looking for sympathy; you were just stating a fact.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he did anyway. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I— I don’t know. I guess… I just see something in you. Something good.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s nothin' good in me.”

“There is,” you insisted. “I see it. Even if you don’t.”

He felt his chest tighten, and he had to look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”

He feel your eyes on him, could feel the way his pulse was racing under his skin. He hated it. Hated that he wanted to believe you, wanted to feel whatever it was you seemed to see in him.

“You’re too good,” he muttered. “Too good for someone like me.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Rafe.”

He glanced up, surprised by the boldness in you. You were so soft most days it always threw him off when you took the reins. You were closer now, leaning forward just slightly, eyes fixed on his. He felt that breathtaking tension tightening again.

Before he could think better of it, he spoke, voice coming out meeker than what he was going for, “You really think there’s somethin' good in me?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him for a second, “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding yours. You didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch in fear or scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Why?” he asked again, desperate.

 “Because I just do.”

Something snapped in him then, something he’d been holding back for too long. He moved closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your delicate skin. You didn’t pull away again, only leaning into his touch. 

He hesitated, just for a moment. “I’m not— I-I’m not a good guy,” he murmured.

You smiled again, softer this time, the way he hoped you only did for him, “I don’t need you to be.”

He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was clumsy at first — just a touch of lips, a bit hesitant. But then you kissed him back and suddenly he understood those stupid cliché novels his mom used to read when he was younger. He’d never kissed anyone before. 

He was too aware of how inexperienced they both were, of the way his lips barely brushed against yours. He felt stiff and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. But it felt right. It wasn’t smooth or perfect — there was hesitancy and uncertainty, but it was real. He felt your hand touch his cheek, your fingers warm and trembling just a little.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, pulling you closer, fingers curling into your hair. He couldn’t get enough. It was messy, frantic, his heart racing like it was trying to break out of his chest, and for once, he didn’t care. He felt your breath hitch against his lips, the warmth of you pressing into him, and all the walls he’d built up, all the reasons he’d given himself to push you away, disappeared. 

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his old shirt like you didn’t want to let go, and that did something to him. Made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Every time he kissed you, it was like he was drowning in you, like nothing else mattered except for this — your lips, your skin, the way your body pressed against his.

He pulled away, just for a second, eyes wide and breathing heavy, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He looked at you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet from the kiss, and damn, you looked beautiful. More beautiful than he ever let himself admit before.

But then you smiled, that same heart-shattering smile, and it was like you were pulling him back in, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered.

“I’m not…” he started, but even he didn’t believe it. Because he was. He was terrified as hell of this, of you, of the way you made him feel like he wasn’t a complete mess. But before he could say more, you kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

He didn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t be doing, didn’t overanalyze the way his hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. You melted into him, your body warm and soft, like you belonged there and he felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

His hands roamed, exploring, memorizing the curve of your waist, the way your body fit so perfectly against his. Every little sound you made, every breathless gasp, made him feel like he was on fire.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“This is crazy,” he muttered, his voice all shaky.

You giggled, the sound making his chest tighten in the best way.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, and he knew you meant it.

You didn’t care about the Kook vs. Pogue thing, about the stupid rules that had been drilled into them from birth. You just cared about him. He didn’t know how to let himself want something good, something real. But he wanted you. God, did he want you.

From that night on, everything changed. 

You started seeing each other in secret, meeting up when your parents were out of town or sneaking off to some hidden spot by the beach at night where no one would find you. Every time he saw you, it was like a high he couldn’t get enough of. You’d kiss, talk, hold each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he’d forget about all the shit in his life. Forget about the fact that he was supposed to be a screw-up who didn’t deserve someone like you.

You sat side by side at the dock, feet dangling just above the water, the tips of your shoes barely touching the surface. Something was calming about the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the dock, the world feeling small and distant for once, like it was just the two of you.

He leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon, not saying much. He’d been quiet today, more so than usual. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want ‘em. They’re not worth much.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him again. “C’mon. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the water, his fingers curling into the wood of the dock. He was biting back whatever was eating at him. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, you knew that, but he wanted to, for you. You wanted to know him, all of him, not just the fake exterior he put up for everyone else to see.

“You ever think about… like, how different your life would be if shit didn’t go so sideways?” he asked, his voice low, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.

You frowned, turning to face him, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“My mom, she… she used to date these losers. Real pieces of shit, y’know? Guys who’d roll through, thinking they owned the place, treating me like I was some kind of burden just because I was around.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say it, but he was doing it anyway, like the words had been stuck inside him for years.

“She didn’t really care what they did. As long as they paid for her booze, she was cool with whatever. They’d knock me around sometimes, tell me I wasn’t worth shit. But she never did anything about it.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on the water because he couldn’t look at you. “One of ‘em got real bad. Fucker hit me so hard one night, I thought I was gonna pass out. And when I told her… she didn’t care. Told me I was a liar. Said I probably deserved it.”

“Rafe…” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t pull away this time, just let you hold it, his fingers squeezing yours a little too tightly.

“I tried to stick it out,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Tried to stay for as long as I could. But one day, she kicked me out. Told me I was too much trouble, and she didn’t need me around anymore.” He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “I guess I wasn’t worth the space I took up.”

You were quiet. He liked that about you, that you didn’t try and get his thoughts out of his head, just let him do his thing, on his own time. There was nothing that could make up for the kind of pain he’d been through. You just squeezed his hand tighter, and he just knew you wished you could take some weight off his shoulders.

“That’s why you were in that house?” You brushed your lips against his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

It was hard for him to talk about this stuff. Hell, it was hard for him to talk at all when it came to anything real. You just sat there, holding his hand, being there. That was what made you different. Most people didn’t wait for him. They’d get frustrated, give up, move on.

You just... stayed. And that scared him almost as much as it comforted him.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

You shifted closer, your knees touching his now. “It matters to me.”

He didn’t understand how you could look at him like that, like he was worth something.

“You knew my name.”

You nodded, “You delivered fresh seafood to the house once.”

His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, “I was fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“And you remembered that?”

Your brows shot up like he’d said the dumbest thing ever. “Obviously.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling you into his lap. His hands found your waist, desperate, almost frantic, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You shouldn’t—" he started, but the words died on his lips because you were already kissing him, and it was like everything stopped. The world, his thoughts, all the shit that weighed him down. It was just you, your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair, and the soft sounds you made against his mouth.

He kissed you harder, more urgently, like he was trying to prove something to himself — that he could have this, that he could deserve this. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours and he felt like he was falling apart and putting himself back together all at once.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest was heaving, and you were looking at him with that same softness that made his stomach twist.

"How—How the hell did I get this lucky?" His voice cracked, just a little. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words spilled out anyway. 

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek, and he realized then that his face was wet. He hadn’t even noticed the tears slipping down, hadn’t noticed the way he was trembling.

"You deserve this" you whispered. 

That was it.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he crashed his lips against yours again, kissing you so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t hold back the way he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. For you.

His hands cupped your face, fingers trembling as he kissed you again and again, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. 

And as his tears mixed with your kiss, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running.

He wasn’t pushing you away. He was falling, hard and fast, and he didn’t care. Because for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

[cokoweee]

OKAY.

Took me WAY too long to finally analyze this bad boy but I’m HERE NOW-

Let’s begin. ~

First off- THIS BACKGROUND.

Look at it. Just- LOOK AT IT. This seriously looks like a storyboard from a Disney movie, you wickedly talented person, you. The lights, shading, and perspective are all GORGEOUS.

Next.

We know that Donnie has a huge struggle with drinking ever since his family passed. Drunkenness is what helped him through that horrible time, thrusting himself into the inebriating arms of the liquid that helps him forget and live without feeling all the pain.

And yet- there’s this newest update. Here at an extravagant party, an event where you’re ENCOURAGED to overindulge on the drinks, Donnie has had about a sip. That’s all.

And here he’s actually thinking that he won’t finish it. A drink. In his hand. His old friend that has helped him through every night of his miserable life- he’s refusing completely on his own.

Donnie’s seriously grown so much. 🥹 Getting to know Kendra, having the device in his head removed, and truly FEELING emotions again have been helpful steps in his mental and emotional recovery.

And even how much he and Kendra have grown together- how he protects her and how she fights for him.

And here’s a nice little comparison- DONNIE is helping Kendra when SHE’s drunk. We’ve seen this before, but in reverse! Tello has always been the one in the inebriated pov, but here he’s helping and protecting Kendra.

And that’s just lovely to see. 💜

Even here, Donnie’s having a “spidey sense” moment looking out for Kendra. As well as AGAIN refusing a drink.

Character 👏 growth 👏 YESSSS

And now we get to this panel. And to an important question we’ve ALL been worrying about:

What happened to Kendra while Donnie and her were separated at Big Mamas?

I don’t know about you guys, but I was not convinced that everything was a-okay on Kendra’s end. After she emerged from the bathroom, she was acting strange. Like- not Kendra strange. Almost like she was drunk enough to be calm- but we didn’t see any alcohol- so hmmmmm???????

And then her and Donnie go on a flippin musical date-night montage trying on outfits for Big Mamas party. And AGAIN. Kendra is NOT acting like herself.

And Donnie catches this too, the panel before this one asking if Big Mama did something to Kendra.

And THIS is her reply-

Sooooo OKAY. 😦👌 Now we know that Kendra has most likely seen Big Mamas spider lady form. Fantastic. But what Kendra says AFTER is what’s really throwing me for a loop-

“She could literally peel me like a shrimp before I get the chance to scream.”

That… sounds like a threat from Big Mama. Just add a few “biddlidoos and bobsquinkles”…

So. WHAT. The FRICK HAPPENED.

Also… “watched her eat a bus-boy”

Eh SCUSEEEE ME?!?!?…..

*brain attempting to process information noises*

To add on to the mystery of what’s going on with Kendra- she says THIS.

Donnie’s ACTUAL name. Not “Othello” not “dummy” not “nerd”… she called him by his true name.

THAT AINT NORMAL.

And then- the biggest thing in this update that exploded my perception of time and space~

*brain fizzling and popping noises*

THIS IS ALL WRONG- THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO- NOT NOW- AND KENDRAS MORE INEBRIATED THAN JACK SPARROW-

She doesn’t even know what that kiss just did to Donnie’s brain. (Nevermind his HEART). She probably won’t even remember it after that night-

AAAAA COKO HOW CAN THIS BE SO AMAZING and DEVASTATING at the same TIMEEEE??

(But seriously your story is amazing and I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for what happens next!!)

Okay I’m done. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

Drink water and when you can see what the sun looks like. ;)

~ Melissa

Thank FUCK the background was okay cause I struggle with that shit so much. Love seeing asks like these makes me all giggly kickin my feet n shit like a goof

Donnie’s finally in his “slightly better kinda” arc lol. Bout time innit? He’s been blended enough. Speaking of blenders I’ve been having Kendra in hers 🤓 and she ain’t done yet

Glad you liked the update tho! Actually a lot of yall did hot DAMN. I was planning to have atleast three this week but my backs killin me and I’m bein too slow.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

fight the future part 1

AHHHHH, i’m so EXCITEDDDD!!!

it usually takes me an hour and a half to write up my initial thoughts on a 45 minute episode, PLUS more time to edit them before posting, so this 2 hour movie is probably going to take all night LMAOOOO

but after having some brief troubles with my laptop’s DVD player, here we are!!!! i cannot wait!!! i’m so excited!! everyone has really hyped this up. but i read the back of the DVD and it didn’t mention gibson at all? so are we just pushing that to the side for now?

okay. yeah. i’ll have to not worry about that little boy. 

oh, and yeah, i'm watching it on a DVD! the quality is... not great. which i suppose adds to the immersion.

post-movie thoughts: i can see shrimp colors and feel their secret emotions.

let’s GOOOOO!

theme music playing��…………….. over some oily looking stuff…. YEAH BABY!!!!!

we are in a blizzard. two figures run. wait, it’s texas? oh, it’s ancient texas. a very different time from now.

let us enter a cave together, where we can start a fire and rest. and look around with torches. deeper and deeper into this labyrinth journey the cavemen. it looks like skyrim. i half expect a skeever to jump out

wah! who is this in the ice?

ALIEN ATTACK??? what is going on? alien vs cavemen! place your bets!!! one caveman down!!! the alien escaped?? other caveman wants to know where tf it went!

i get the sense a jumpscare is coming. WHAT IS THAT THING??? it looks like a flounder??????? surviving caveman stabs it and it bleeds. OHHH.... IS THAT THE BLACK OIL STUFF???? YEAH, it is!!! and it crawls all over the caveman!!!! 

wahhhh!!! abrupt jump cut to a boy named stevie falling into a cave. stevie, there may be monsters afoot, please be careful. stevie wants this skull for himself. please alert any local archaeologists of this find instead of stealing it or its historical context will forever be lost to time. NO STEVIE! the goop!!!!! it is upon him!!!

maybe this is what he gets for trying to steal archaeological remains. take notes, children. a lesson was learned today.

it crawls up his legs like evil slugs!!!! and into his eyeballs!! the other kids run!!!

they abandoned stevie in his hour of need… personally, i would not forgive them for this

some yellow firetrucks are here to save the day (and who has ever seen a yellow firetruck?). go, fetch stevie. the fireman up top can’t hear the ones down in the cave through the radio!!!

now, what is this helicopter doing at the scene? they bring out a pod-thing to store stevie in. and this other guy (later revealed to be named bronschweig- simply too many german names on this show) is watching the boy with grave concern.

THIS DUDE LEAVES THE FIREMEN DOWN THERE TO DIE?????

absolutely DIABOLICAL.

a ton more trucks pull in and block off the area while the doctor bronschweig guy calls someone to say that…. the impossible scenario that they never planned for??? well, they better come up with a plan!!

a week later, a helicopter arrives in dallas. the FBI says there is no evidence of an explosive in this building, but this other guy (michaud) says they had better check again. he sees something in the distance….. upon the roof....

SCULLY IS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cheered and screamed!

“mulder, it’s me!” “where are you scully?” “i’m on the roof” <- it was her on the roof!! oh, my heart is so happy to see her!!! she says she hasn't found anything. and you know she is good at observing

LMAOOOOO she wants to know what the fuck she is doing there!!! after going up 12 floors of stairs!!! they are not acting in accordance with the data on how to respond to terrorist threats!!! the bomb threat was called in ACROSS THE STREET!! lives could be lost!!! yes diva, monologue statistics!

BOO! mulder scares her LMAOOO LMAOOOOOOO aww. babies.

(her lecturing him on the statistics and terrorist behavioral analysis is so funny because he is the behavioral analysis guy... but i recognize that they are doing a sort of character introduction for the girlies who are just tuning in for the movie, and she is the one who likes to do things by the book)

(he pops a sunflower seed) “what are we doing up here, scully? it’s hotter than hell” <- many are asking this question...

NOOOOO, he’s bored because they’ve CLOSED THE X FILES 💔💔💔 and now they have to follow the rules!!! and do boring things like look for bombs! but at least they get to do it together? that has to be a plus!

“maybe we should call in a bomb threat to houston; i think it’s free beer night at the astrodome” (she glares at him) LMAOOOOO she’s mad as hell!!!! and so is he!!! but in a different direction!

OHHHHHH she pretends the door is locked…. and he goes into open it…. AHAHAHA, OH I JUST GIGGLED!!!

“it’s locked?” “so much for anticipating the unforeseen” (he opens it and turns to her, who is smiling, crossing her arms) “i had you” (he’s laughing) “no you didn’t” “had you big time"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH i love when they write scully as a smartass!!! THAT IS MY BABY!! <3

SHE’S STILL TEASING HIM AS THEY GO INSIDE, BAHAHAHA! he says he saw her jiggle the handle; “i saw your face, mulder, there was a definite moment of panic” “you’ve never seen me panic. when i panic, i make this face” (he has no discernible expression)

BANTER!!! THE BANTER OF IT ALL!!!

OHHHH, SHE MAKES HIM BUY HER A SODA and she wants something SWEET... AGAIN, i say, that is my baby!!!!!!

15 minutes in and i’m already kicking my feet and giggling at their banter, oh my god… this is going to ruin me

LMAOOO what the hell did he just pull out of his pocket as he is putting the change in for a soda?!!

bro is slamming all of the buttons…. bro is kicking the machine… i have been there too, brother, i promise. 

aha! the machine was unplugged!

this DVD is skipping a little but i think he got locked in the drink room 💔 for what purpose??

he panics and calls scully on his nokia, and her number is 555-0113 btw, for those of you who keep track of these things

he says he found the bomb!!!! and she thinks he is joking, but he is absolutely not!!! 

OH SHIT!!!!! the bomb really is in there!!!! where the vending machine should be!! he starts counting down…….

so scully runs out, saying that she will get him out of there, but first: get everyone else out!!!!

YES, TELL THEM GIRL!!! “i need this building evacuated and cleared out in ten minutes. i want you to call the fire department and have them block off the city center and a one-mile radius around the building” “ten minutes?” “DON’T THINK! pick up that phone and make it happen!” <- YAAAAAAS EXACTLY RIGHT!!!

love when she raises her voice at men who doubt her. it brings me inner peace.

she needs to speak to michaud NOW…. tell him to deploy the FBI AT ONCE!!!!

oh, poor mulder, stuck in a locked room with the vending machine bomb….. he jumps when his cellphone rings. “scully, you know that face i just showed you? i’m making it again” <- NOOOOO his normally cool exterior is cracking 💔

she informs him to get away from the door because they are coming in. is michaud a welder????? or do they just keep one on hand for events like this?

michaud says to get out NOW!!! and mulder doesn’t want to listen, but scully forces him out. now why tf would this michaud guy know how to diffuse a bomb?? but he says he does.

okay, but he lies, because he’s just sitting there looking at it?????

mulder wants to run back in but she SCREAMS IN HIS FACE THAT THEY DON’T HAVE TIME!!!

(this was most pleasing to me as well. something about her screaming in his face to save him made me nod in approval)

they just barely get in the car, when the whole building blows!!!! poor limping agents emerge from the bombing as the place is in ruins. “next time, you’re buying”, mulder says. oh, this man, and his dumbass quips…

back to the FBI headquarters in DC. is scully in trouble??!?! but skinner is here!!!! surely he will defend her! oh no… mulder is here, too. there were 5 deaths in the explosion!!!

mulder rushes in, asking if the bodies really were found in the building, because they were told it was clear. but this lady tells him he was late and he better go wait outside… what is afoot at this moment…? skinner shakes his head ever so slightly

cut to him pounding sunflower seeds outside the door while the meeting takes place.

skinner emerges!!!!! NOOOO he gently informs mulder that they’re being blamed for this!!! he was so careful about the way he worded this news, too 💔💔

“if they want somebody to blame, they can blame me. agent scully doesn’t deserve this” “she’s in there right now saying the same thing about you” <- OHHHHHH……….. i fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot.

(metaphorically, of course. for in reality, i sit here, cozy in bed)

mulder says that he broke protocol by leaving the SAC, so he should take the blame, but she says she was the one who ordered him out. and he denies wanting to go back in.

poor scully :( she emerges

and now the people from the panel in the meeting room want skinner back :( she always calls him “sir” :(

NOOOOO, THEY’RE SPLITTING OUR AGENTS UP??? 💔 

“this is not about you scully, they’re doing this to me” “they’re not doing this. mulder, i left behind a career in medicine… because i thought that i could make a difference at the FBI, but it hasn’t turned out that way, and now if they were to transfer me to omaha, or cleveland, or some field office it just doesn’t hold the interest for me that it once did. not after what i’ve seen and done” <- OHHHHHH… his face while she says this…

and her guilt…. it’s like she wants to atone.

again, scully and her need to Do The Morally Correct Thing at all costs. and at this point, can she say that being in the FBI is the Morally Correct Thing to do? i don't blame her for wanting to go be a doctor instead, even though i am surprised she doesn't want to figure out who got her sick and killed her sister. maybe she thought if she cut her losses now, she could still make a life for herself somewhere else.

she looks so SAD, and she says she’s sorry, and when mulder walks away, she grabs his jacket that he left behind... ohhhhh my GOD, her standing alone in the hallway… someone please kill me

(post viewing note: i think he was trying to blame himself for the whole situation and assuage her guilt with the "this is not about you, scully" line, but it seemed like he was saying that he was the only one being persecuted for the pursuit of the great and noble Truth, which rubbed me the wrong way. i think i know what he MEANT, but when he said they were doing this to HIM, it was like, damn, pretty sure y'all have been a team... again with the hearing 'i' when he ought to hear 'we')

NOOOOO! mulder’s absolutely smashed at the bar. bro barely drinks and tonight he is going for the gold. 

AND THE BARTENDER ASKS WHAT HE DOES SO HE JUST. TELLS HER EVERYTHING??? so she cuts him off for the night. because his alien story seems to indicate his inebriation.

oh my god, it's like it doesn't bother him that he is a joke to his peers when he is getting results, but when he is separated from those results, being belittled hurts

“one is the loneliest number” <- SAID BY THE MAN who never wanted a partner….. oh my god…..

OH, the poor guy can’t even go to the bathroom in peace… which leaves him pissing against the wall… truly an all time low for my best friend mulder

this guy is talking to him while he goes to the bathroom. he says he has been watching his career for a while…….. since he was a promising young agent….. okay, who is this kurtzweil fellow? OH! HE CLAIMS TO BE “AN OLD FRIEND OF YOUR FATHER’S” EEK! i don’t think that will endear him to you 

HE CALLS THEM “FELLOW TRAVELERS”.... RED MR. MULDER CONFIRMED???

he’s trying to get away from this guy. kurtzweil heard he comes in there sometimes. huh, that’s interesting. i feel like we never see him drink. and he said he usually doesn’t, which he stated as much before. maybe he goes there on the tough nights. maybe he gets bored. maybe his general sobriety is being retconned in this film. very interesting.

bro is trying to get tf out of there… but kurtzweil says that michaud never tried to diffuse that bomb!! "they" wanted the medical quarantine office in that dallas building destroyed!! which is where the bodies came from!!! the dead they found were already dead before the bomb went off!!!!

ohhhh, mulder's eyes are alight again… he tells the doctor he thinks he’s full of shit, but i can see that spark in his drunk and pondering eyes.

he is now off to georgetown. where poor scully cannot sleep. in her white robe. sadly looking at the ceiling.

(i know nothing about DC. so scully lives in georgetown? then where does he live? how far away is that? you have to call a cab, so it's probably pretty far... how long are their journeys to work? and most importantly, how far are they from the museums?)

OH she immediately clocks that he is drunk and she is SUSPICIOUS. oh, i want to STUDY this interaction:

“oh, i woke you. did i wake you?” (he stumbles in)

“no”

“why not? it’s 3 in the morning” 

“are you drunk, mulder?” (i find it very fascinating she asks this without judgement- just very matter of fact)

“i… i… uh, was, until about 20 minutes ago, yeah”

“was that before or after you decided to come here?”

“what exactly are you implying?”

(she stares at him) “go home, mulder”

“no, get dressed”

“it’s late”

“get dressed”

“what are you doing?” 

“just get dressed, and i’ll explain on the way” <- ohhhhhh…. will she go with him?

she will, but only after a deep sigh

(post-viewing thoughts: i thought this was so fascinating because it felt like she thought he was going to break whatever tenuous barrier was between them. like, he was either going to try and sleep with her, or beg her to stay, and either one was something she couldn't handle. it felt like she assumed it was sexual, to me at least. and that firm rejection was very interesting. i shall unpack this for decades, i am sure)

back to texas, where the quarantine effort where stevie and the firemen fell in the hole is being resumed. AND CSM IS LIGHTING UP AS HE DESCENDS FROM HIS HELICOPTER!!! sadly and pensively smoking. 

the guy from before who we saw leave the firemen behind- bronschweig- has something to show CSM. AUGH, the fireman that they left in the hole is still alive, but he is very goopy??? why is this???

the black oil alien is eating him away!!! but they managed to slow it down by bringing him back to freezing!!!

he asks if CSM wants him to destroy “this one too, before it gestates” and he says no, no. we need to try the vaccine. and if it doesn’t work… burn it like the others. nasty.

AUGH....... the oil alien moved in the fireman's body a little bit. didn't care for it.

the agents are rolling up to the naval hospital at 4 am. i sure do hope mulder wasn’t the one driving. scully does not seem like the type to allow this.

LMAOOOO he is trying to get into the morgue by pushing around the young and inexperienced guard, and he does that thing where he calls him “son”, which makes me feel so weird, but the trickery of a guy named fox never fails to amuse me. he points out to scully once they're successfully inside that it’s pretty weird a hospital morgue is suddenly off limits on the orders of a general. yeah, seems sus.

mulder is unboxing this corpse, and it is horribly sticky!!! she’s gloving up to investigate. “god, it’s completely edematous”, she notes, and i giggled when she said that. scully using medical words makes my heart skip beats. i even giggled while gagging as she dragged her fingers through the human body that had become gel. and there was evidently absolutely no autopsy, she declares!!! the death report is obviously not true!!!

(shoutout to the props team)

STEALING A BODY with agents mulder and scully! but she is concerned! it takes a long time to conduct an autopsy! she’s worried they'll get caught!! “we’re being blamed for this man’s death. i’d like to know what he died of”, mulder points out, and you know what? i can’t really argue with that logic 

how is she gonna cut the body open if he’s goop?!?!

off to dr. kurtzweil’s apartment, where an outside investigation is taking place, and you bet mulder is going to crash it.

OH SHIT??? the cops who are in kurtweil's place accuse him of a very serious crime??? mulder also found a book he wrote about “global domination conspiracy” um… can we trust this guy? 

earlier when he said he was an OBGYN, my first thought was that he was one of those guys who works in the fertility clinics and makes the clone people… maybe he really is?

(after seeing the film, i think it was just a coincidence LMAO)

mulder make a joke about needing a pelvic examination and cracks the other cop up lmao. he has a way of charming people

GASP! as he tries to leave, he’s being summoned around the corner by kurtzweil!!! he says "they" know that he is talking to mulder. mulder is like how tf did you know all that about the goop guy in the hospital morgue?

well, let me tell you a story about a mouse disease, says kurtzweil.

and FEMA mentioned…. what are they doing in a mouse disease outbreak?? with their newfound powers? hmm.

MR. MULDER LORE!!!! they worked on a bio weapon together. “a plague to end all plagues… a planned armageddon” arranged with the aliens!! that's... not good.

so he says the president will declare a state of emergency when this plague arrives, and all power will come under FEMA/the secret government. and then i think he implies it will be transferred over to the aliens?

he says to go back to texas and dig… or else.

poor FEMA. always being blamed for something.

meanwhile, scully is working on getting an autopsy on the goopy body. but there are people approaching!!!

she hides!!! in the freezer!!!! but no!!!! her phone goes off!!!!

LMAOOOO!!! DESPITE the horrible timing, she picks up and says she can’t really talk right now- but mulder wants to know more about this infection she found. 

he wants her to come to dallas with him, but she says she can’t, she has a hearing tomorrow!!! OH SHIT!!! the army men are approaching, but just in time she hides under the bodies…… very gross

now mulder is in a lab far away. looks like she did not accompany him to texas.

JUST KIDDING!!! SHE DID!!! she walks in right as he is told about some archaeological bone fragments!!

she didn’t want to come, but whatever those men were infected with has a protein code she has never seen before!! and i KNOW scully knows her protein codes!!! it is a serious health threat!!!

time to look at the fossils with a microscope. oh, whatever she sees is crazy, judging by the face she is making

(i thought it was so funny how he tells the dude in the lab he wanted her to explore the bones because it was so conveniently timed AND because they were archaeological remains that were thousands of years old, and i'm thinking, is she trained in archaeology? or is that implied with a training in forensic pathology? at what age is a bone no longer in her area of expertise?!)

back to the texas site…. the scary government people are going to try the vaccine. BLEH, whatever was in that guy has come free through his chest!!!!!!!!!!! bronschweig is looking around all over the place, freaking tf out!!!! where did it go?!!!!!

bronschweig says he can see it?? in a cave.

it looks slimy. and kinda little? he’s loading up a syringe with some sort of liquid that must be the vaccine, but then it vanishes!!!

OH. IT IS NOT LITTLE. NOT LITTLE AT ALL!!!!

GIRL. IT EATED HIM!?!!!! bronschweig stabs the alien fellow with the vaccine, but the other scientists lock him down in the hole because he has been mauled!!!!!!! and they bury him!!!! damn!!! there are truly no alliances in this alien business!!!!

why are we in england now? OHHHHH! IT’S WELL-GROOMED MAN!!! his butler says he has a call….

(okay, yeah, his name is “well-manicured man”, as the subtitles show, but come on!! it’s been 5 seasons of me calling him the wrong name!! i can’t switch it up now!!)

CSM says there is an emergency meeting TONIGHT. and strughold called it- whoever tf that is.

i have a feeling i am supposed to be most sympathetic towards well-groomed man. especially as he runs for what i presume to be his crying grandchild who hurt their knee. he was also the only one to advocate for working alongside the resistance, which morally elevated him above the others. but still. he is IN the alien groupchat, which you do not enter by being a morally clean fellow

syndicate meeting time!! who is this strughold fellow? aww, well-manicured man’s grandson broke his legs :(

so, breaking news: the alien virus has mutated into a new entity! they need to reevaluate their role in the colonization! well-groomed man points out that they have been used this whole time!! and they dismiss all of his wisdom!

so, they are once again going to ignore his advice of trying to have any hope. but there have been complications… allow us to look at a TV to illustrate

it is mulder and scully on the security footage!!! someone must have tipped him off to what is going on!! and they suspect kurtzweil. so he must go. and so must mulder.

but if they kill mulder, they risk turning one man's quest into a wider crusade… so they must take away what he cannot live without… 

cut to scully!!!! NOOOOOO!

ahhhhh!! i left off at 54:52, i feel that this is an okay place to leave for the night, because my writeups take so long. i started this almost 2 hours ago, and i think a break is appropriate here. so! until tomorrow!!!

ahhhh… so many things to analyze. while trying to fall asleep, i couldn’t stop thinking about the following: scully teasing mulder at the very beginning of the film; how she doesn’t want to work for the FBI anymore without him, and how she no longer feels she can make a change there (and how she Needs to make change rather than simply earn a paycheck); how she is trying to find her place in life still; his sadness at this fact; how he went to the bar and got smashed to cope, spilling his guts out to the waitress, clearly crushed that the world thinks he’s a joke when he doesn't have the answers to dull the pain; how he showed up to scully’s place drunk and she was confused, and the careful line of their relationship was being walked upon when he did so, but she still followed him into the hospital; and then how she immediately started nerding out about the goopy guy, and then hid in the morgue to autopsy him!!!!! and then there’s the whole thing with the well-groomed man and the aliens and colonization and blah blah blah, but come on!! i want my babies back together!! kicking ass and taking names!!! so.

part 2 shall commence shortly!

[ladyzirkonia]

The Crossing

This one is for you my beloved @lightwise. I wrote my thoughts down while the episode was released and decided to take some screenshots. Not profread just copied the text and added the pictures.

This is still one of my all time favorite episodes.

Well, first of all, the scenery, the planet, the colors, the music that really appealed to me. You have to know that as a geologist I love deserts and sandstone formations. Unfortunately we don't have much of that in Europe, I was in America for three weeks once, that was the most wonderful thing I've experienced from a geological point of view.

Back to geology. The mine and that mineral they're supposed to extract. Needless to say, I would be there right away? Super interesting, I would of course pee my pants with fear, but what the heck. That sounds like an adventure to my taste.

I can't stop staring at Tech's tight Star Wars ''jeans''. This episode it's even a bit dustier and dirtier from the environment. Please don't blame me! (Where the thirst started ;))

I just have to mention again how beautiful these sandstone formations are. I read somewhere that someone wrote about Space Utah and I think that's 100% correct.

(And just a random Sergeant picture for you, because he's hot and we can, look at this man.)

And then comes the absolute lion king moment! That can only be intentional, right? I was really scared for a moment because I associated the scene so closely with The Lion King. It was one of my favorite movies as a kid and the scene where Mufasa dies still makes me cry sometimes. I mean, those critters literally look like space antelopes, don't they?

Oh man and I felt SO sorry for Wrecker! How heartless Tech sent him back down to get the Ipsium. ''What about protecting me?'' I just wanted to shout I protect you. And again a very uneasy feeling watching the animals trample over him, maybe that traumatized me more than I thought as a child.

And how Tech then just take the container himself, hello? I mean we already talked about him being a good fighter just like his brothers. But you're just not used to the autistic nerd being so physically fit. That's pretty hot. (Edit: Still a shrimp, we love it)

And the next argument between Tech and Wrecker. It's hard to defend Tech because he's really acting like an ass. You can tell how depressed Omega is in this situation and Hunter is just trying to hold everything together. I really feel sorry for him because I can't imagine he's doing really well, but as a parent, you always have to hold back your emotions. But isn't it clear here that the group has been thrown off balance? That they obviously care that Echo is gone, as some have complained after the last episode?

''What is your issue'' really wanted to make me scream.

And Omega's angry face afterwards. I just want to jump in and smooth things out. I mean it's nothing new that kids get traumatized in Star Wars. Boba didn't exactly have the dream childhood either, but I don't think it was worked out anywhere and thought about it, it's so wonderful.

And props to Wrecker I had to laugh SO MUCH as he looks at Tech afterwards and shakes his head in slight disappointment after she left just wonderful, so many little details anyway and the facial expressions just lovely.

And then comes THE moment. I mean this man just doesn't hesitate for a second and jumps after Omega, into the dark, into the unknown, he could just die but he doesn't hesitate. I'm just so speechless, if this isn't even a complete unconditional love father/brother moment I don't know what is.

It just seemed to me, but the way Hunter looked after they both fell, it felt like he could really sense that something was wrong and that they were both in danger, which I found really interesting.

The cave they end up in is so beautiful. But apart from that, I would have died of fear if I had been pulled under the water like that. And the moment when Tech is on the ground and lifts his goggles slightly to let water run out, another cute little detail!

And then comes the conversation, I don't even know if I want to go into all of this here, you could probably write an essay about that alone. I'll just sum it up, it was wonderful, it touched me and I think a lot of people who can identify with it did too. That there isn't just one way to express your feelings, that just because you don't show obvious feelings doesn't mean you don't have any or don't care. Most of the time when I'm feeling really bad I don't talk to anyone and you might think the same thing that I don't care about anyone and don't care, but that assumption couldn't be more wrong. I feel for Tech, I feel his words, I think that's one of the best lines of the season as well as his ''Understanding you does not mean I agree with you'' from season one. I'm jealous that despite everything he can express exactly how he feels, that he doesn't know how to feel about the changes.

And the first time, the first time they say they're a family, not just a squad, and Tech confirms it, that made me so happy. The scene is so beautifully acted, the facial expressions are so good. How Tech falters in the meantime and struggles for words, not at all self-confident and precise as usual. That made me so happy.

I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you. The sentence!!! And if he feels that way about Echo, how about Crosshair? His brother, who he's known since they were little? I'm crying! I really can't wait to see you all again Crosshair, it's getting so emotional!

And that it's just Tech who is allowed to shoot the Ipsium, no, not Hunter but Tech, how he holds the blaster with both hands, yes, we already had the topic of weapons, but that's just hot too. Now imagine some target practice with Tech or Crosshair, or best of all with both, I'd be a nervous wreck!

Did I mention that Tech sometimes walks a bit stacked, like a giraffe? It's hilarious, I had to remember that Penny once called Sheldon a giraffe. These tall, lanky nerd boys, I'm in love. (Here comes the shrimp again!)

And the perfect ending as Omega just uses Tech's words to keep morale up and he gives her a slight smile. Bonding mission successfully completed I would say!

Lot's of love and may the force be with you my space sister.

[ollieofthebeholder]

"wow so glad the cabin boy doesn't have a parallel in our museum," says the parallel in the museum

oughjkj.....the beast :(( he doesn't want the guide to get hurt but also he's really Really loyal to his friend so fuCKK

"The museum is not liable for any injury, death, or CONSEQUENCES that may occur during your visit." the guide casually loredropping his other self's situation dsjdsk

oh the queen. the queen scares me. which is probably fitting for a queen but also 😧. yknow ??

oh wow you really Can't gender the beasts friend in a way that matters

guide you are. kind of bad at persuasion MY MUSEUM???? HELL YEAH- oh god MOTHER. MOTHER ARE YOU OKAY MOTHER MOTHER . ................my goodness.........

hm !! the queen seems to be able to read minds, and her child can read hearts......interesting ..........

okay guide i love you and your sass & deduction skills but holy hell please learn to keep that sass In

WOOOOOO THE BEAST !! AWWASJN NDKJAS IT HELPING THE GUIDE AND MOTHER OGUIJHSD </33333 as much as i love this escape-ish sequence, i'm. very scared for what it might mean for the guide-- the beast getting upset that the guide wants to go home :']]

YEP. HI STRANGER. OGKDSHJKGD BEAST :(( fucking knew it'd happen oh dear god the beast :(( "mother you’re so clever, i could kiss you if either of us had lips." dskjadskjdas guide.....

GUIDE AND CLOCKWORK MOTHER. OUGHSKJDKDGSB I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEIR DUO THEYRE SO DAMN COOL

OGIUSDHDKGK THE GUIDE OFFERING TO TAKE THE BEAST TO THE MUSEUMS FUCKKK BEAST DON'T DIE ON US PLEEEAAAASEEEE "WHY DIDN'T YOU DELETE THAT COPY AS SOON AS YOU FIGURED OUT HOW" HUFCKCKKC;LAKLSJKLDSAJKDKASADKS ONOOOOOOOOOOOO THE BEAST CALLING THE GUIDE "LITTLE ONE" AUWUHJDJSSFASDASJDASJDASJASN NOO HIM RECSCDIING THECONROLDK HE HAD OVERH TE GUIDE LKADSLASUUFUUCKA;LCKASJKASKLDASHDASHJADSKL THE GUIDE CALLING OUT FUCKUFCKCUFCKKXLASJSDKJDAS NASPSAKDDASNJLASSJASDLHDASHADSHADSJDBSJ A

HI HEAD OF RESEARCH. HI GUIDE YOU SOUND SAD . SO AM I DON'T WORRY BUD. OH FINALLY TAKING THE INTELLIGENCE'S ADVICE WOOOO !!!

the head of restoration ...... ohhh i love youu "IT'S GOOD TO BE HOME" ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME COSPLAY A RIVER GOD DAMN IT

I'M

i'm

i'm not recovering from this am i

I genuinely hope Dom Guilfoyle is reading these posts and enjoying your reactions as much as I am, because holy hell this is GREAT. This is EXACTLY how I hoped you would react to the end of this season.

And no. No, you are not recovering from this. And the second you think you have, Season 6 will start breaking you in ways you genuinely did not consider were possible. You will be feeling the shrimp emotions. You will want to hug the Guide even more strongly than you currently do. You will meet people you have honestly not expected you will ever meet and be very surprised by how they turn out. You will be biting your nails and going through entire boxes of tissues and screaming into your pillow. You will be doing all of these things multiple times over the course of a single episode.

You will be incredibly fucking grateful that you didn't have to a) wait a year between the end of S5 and the start of S6 and b) wait two weeks between episodes, like I did.

[rebecca2407]

My Endometriosis and IC Journey, Part 2: Pain, Needles, and Unsolicited Advice

Let me start by saying: living with endometriosis and interstitial cystitis (IC) feels like being stuck in the worst episode of a medical drama—except no one is solving anything, and you’re still the patient screaming in pain. Over the years, I’ve tried more remedies than there are Kardashians. Spoiler alert: most of them don’t work, but hey, you have to try something, right?

Let’s talk about pain management, or as I call it, the “what fresh hell is this?” department. The one thing I do consistently rely on is my trusty TENS unit. This little device sends electrical pulses through my skin, and for some reason, it helps take the edge off my pain. Is it magic? Science? Am I just so desperate that tiny electric shocks feel comforting now? Who knows. All I know is that when it’s 3 a.m., and I’m curled up like a shrimp because the cramps are bad, this thing is my ride-or-die. Bonus: it gives me a slight “Frankenstein’s monster” vibe, which I think adds to my charm.

Now, let’s move on to physical therapy. Mondays are officially my “torture and hope” days because that’s when I go to my pelvic floor physical therapist. We recently started dry needling, which sounds horrifying, doesn’t it? Let me tell you: it’s exactly as bad as it sounds. They stick tiny needles into my muscles to release tension. And while it does help for a day or two, the aftermath is… intense. Side effects? Oh, just the usual: feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck and having to pee every three seconds. Seriously, I can’t leave the bathroom. It’s like my bladder heard about the needles and decided to punish me for it.

Speaking of my bladder, let’s get into the creative methods I’ve had to use to calm it down. Bladder spasms are no joke—they’re like having a rebellious toddler throwing a tantrum inside you. My go-to remedy? Ice packs. Yes, ice packs up there. Glamorous, right? You know things are bad when your most effective pain relief method involves freezing your lady parts. But when the bladder spasms are roaring and heat isn’t cutting it, you do what you have to do.

Oh, and water. So much water. I sit in tubs until I feel like I’m about to evolve into some kind of aquatic creature. Warm water does help a little, but I hate how people act like it’s some magical cure. “Just take a bath!” they say, as if that will solve the fact that my uterus is staging a coup. If baths were the answer, I wouldn’t be writing this blog—I’d be soaking in a tub 24/7, living my best mermaid life.

And then there’s the unsolicited advice. I’m looking at you, people who tell me to “just breathe through it.” Breathe? BREATHE?! Listen, if breathing solved chronic pain, I’d be the Dalai Lama by now. Deep breaths don’t stop my organs from feeling like they’re trying to escape my body. Telling me to “breathe in, breathe out” is like telling someone with a broken leg to just walk it off. Not helpful. In fact, it’s mildly infuriating.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried everything under the sun. Essential oils? Smelled like a walking herb garden, still hurt. Acupuncture? Felt like a human pincushion, still hurt. Meditation? Oh, I tried. I sat there, cross-legged, chanting, “Ohm,” but all I could think about was how much pain I was in and how I wanted to scream at whoever suggested meditation as a cure.

Heat is another staple in my pain management arsenal. Heating pads are my best friends—seriously, I have one in almost every room. The downside? I’ve burned myself more times than I can count because I tend to crank the heat up to “lava” levels. Sometimes, I’ll combine heat with water therapy, which is a fancy way of saying I sit in the shower with the water as hot as I can stand. It’s not exactly relaxing, but hey, it keeps me from losing my mind.

Honestly, one of the hardest parts of this journey isn’t even the physical pain—it’s the emotional toll. People just don’t get it. They’ll say things like, “You don’t look sick,” as if chronic pain comes with a neon sign above your head. Or they’ll tell you to “stay positive,” as if smiling through the pain will magically cure my insides. Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but positivity isn’t going to un-glue my organs or calm down my bladder.

Then there’s the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Chronic illness is like having a toxic relationship with your own body. You feel guilty for canceling plans, for not being as productive as you’d like, for being a burden. But you know what? Screw that. I’m not a burden. I’m a warrior. A very tired, slightly cranky warrior, but a warrior nonetheless.

So, what’s next in this never-ending journey? Who knows. Maybe I’ll stumble upon a miracle cure. Maybe I’ll invent one myself—some magical device that zaps away endometriosis and IC forever. Until then, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing: experimenting, surviving, and sharing my story.

To anyone out there dealing with something similar, just know you’re not alone. And if someone tells you to “just breathe,” feel free to direct them to this blog. Or, you know, throw a heating pad at them. Whatever works.

[oru-tree]

Omg... “season” finale... here goes episode 16

spoilers under cut

You guys are sooo cute (Im always saying this but this is what I feel! I have to say it!)

Like on one hand I dont like when characters do the, lampshadey stuff and all that, but I like that shadow is sick of this, also oh sonic, you dont know

Sonic..................................

SONIC....................................................................

Yeah (Shadow... cute...)

Sonic is making me yell and scream rn

Oh he’s staying, good

ohno...

ohnooooooooooooooooooooo, preparing for infinite agony

Yelling and screaming and etc etc rn also oh shadow’s silly skating is soo good

Love it when they fight... turns out I just like how the way they fight is done and not like, necessarily when they fight each other, this fight scene has been pretty good so far, I can’t get good screenshots of it, but its sooo good

I love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Thats rigtght

Rip sonic again

Making me cry and disintigrate

Just places him donw.. guu...

Ok collected myself enough now to comment that shadow probably IS going to regret trusting sonic later on the ep, sorry shadow.

Thank you palm tree

Losing my miiiiiind

Also I just realized I’m only at minute 4 of the ep omg.............Animorphing into a shrimp ...

Sonic :(

Nine...

Aaaaaaa

omg... color

OMG!!!

!!!!

Aahhhhhhhh

Rip dr. dont

Aww :)

:)

Shadow is just like ... :/

*pointing* wow... they are standing next to each other...

omg... love the way his ears twich in this scene! picking up sounds.. Sonic the hedgehog creature moments

Be safe nine...

Shadow... so cute...

JUST KICKS HIM!!! LIKE A FOOTBALL! RUDE!!!

Uhoh!!

Aww... good luck sonic... and nine..

:0

Also nine has been ok through the whole ep.. maybe.. maybe I was misjudging him...

Aaaaa

Just grabbed him!! Like a squeaky toy...

Just gets thrown..

A

ghhg

gah

You guys are so tiny small I love youuuu

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I like that they just call the cave a temple now

NOOOoooo the loop de loop :(

hghhghgh rip shadow

This is so sillly

Nine Ilu...

Sonic... sonic is on fire!

And has magenta eyes now!!!

:0c!!!

He exploded the dr omg...

:)

Uhoh...

N-Nine........

NINE !

This hurts!!! but its so good

Oughhgh the pain... but also, the conflict... good

Yeah...

He did! But also, he’s a bit of a dummy, he’s just like that

:(

I’m corncobbing right now aough, the ep only has like a minute left aaaaaa yelling and screaming

Oh sonic

Suffering

You could still hang out tbh

Yeah...

Aaaaaa..................

Oh sonic

Well.... there he goes...

oughaoguhgohguhouhgh *I’m being crunched, like a paper sheet at the moment*

I still love nine though, he can do this, he shouldn’t, but he can

screaming

He’s going to kill sonic for real now ghghhghghg

WELL THAT WAS IT!!

Good batch of episodes, yelled a lot, what will happen! Well who knows, gosh, feeling emotions rn

[twistedmusings]

Doing Anything for Heat

“Do you always refer to yourself in third person when writing these up?” 

“Legalities, Prefect, although I do not expect you to know anything about that.” 

Guess who can’t write as much anymore because she got a nasty bite at work! So yes, I was working on requests so diligently and then bam--this happens. 

As an apology for my late ass writings, please take this mini scenario for the Octavinelle Trio! Azul’s SSR card got translated and I just...god I love these boys so much q wq  Reader: [G/N]  Warnings: Casual flirting, possessive thoughts from all the boys and just MC striking up a contract with Azul and taking a very creative approach towards it~ 

“[Y/N]!!!!” Grimm pulls at your arm as you sit down across from Azul, the man holding out a contract to you as he tilts his head with a smile. “What will it be, Prefect?” 

Your hands sweat as you rub them on your legs. “Hehe~ Little Shrimp looks so scared~” 

The contract is placed in front of you slowly, Azul taking care of minding his manners as you lean back and go over the simple specifications. Made simpler, of course, since Azul had ‘such’ a kind heart. 

What a con artist. 

Winter was hitting Night Raven College hard but was hitting Ramshackle even harder. 

How many blankets had you bought from Sam’s shop? Ten? Twenty? You honestly didn’t know but you and Grimm were close to freezing some night and you had just about enough of living in an ice cube for a dorm. 

You were acting out of desperation. 

And, ever the businessman, Azul had stretched out his hand for your unfortunate soul. 

“Bring sixty customers during our lunch rush tomorrow and Azul Ashengrotto will personally see that a heater is installed in Ramshackle the same day.” 

You put the contract down and look him in the eye. “Do you always refer to yourself in third person when writing these up?” 

“Legalities, Prefect, although I do not expect you to know anything about that.” 

Great, more insults towards your intelligence. 

Sixty customers. If you were to break that down it would be ten from each dorm not counting Octavinelle. You could rope Ace and Deuce to come, guilt trip Jack for not helping you with that assignment due last night, kindly ask Epel to make his way over here and maybe if you promised Sebek that you would listen to him rant about his dorm leader he would reluctantly agree. 

But that wouldn’t be near enough. 

Azul clicks his tongue while Jade speaks up, “We will have to take that answer today, [Y/N]-san. If not, I guess maybe we could let you take some blankets from Octavinelle--” 

“Fine! Fine.” you sign your name on the dotted line and hand the contract back to Azul, the other grinning as he handed it towards his right-hand man. “How wonderful! I’ll be waiting with baited breath to see what you bring us tomorrow~” 

You give Azul the fakest smile you can muster, waving goodbye to the twins as you make your way out of the lounge with Grimm by your side. “Fgnaaa~! We are screwed! [Y/N] how could you! We are going to be stuck waiting tables for ETERNITY now!” 

“Not if we bring them what they asked for.” you bite your bottom lip as you look at the Monstro Lounge, your eyes falling on the small stage. 

Oh right. Some students played here. Well, students deemed worthy enough to play. You remember the Music Club trying to do a gig here but failing miserably the moment Lilia opened his mouth. Despite the failure, it did bring some people in to get Azul over the red. 

A floorshow. 

That’s right! A floorshow! 

“Grimm!” you grab the cat and bring him close as he freaks out. 

“What--what!” 

“I got it!” you hold him out in front of you, “We are going to have to let go of our pride a bit and this experience might humble us but...we will have heat!’ 

“[Y/N] you are scaring me--” 

Grimm barely gets to say what he wants as he is dragged back into your arms, your feet running as fast as you can into Mr.S’s shop for the stuff that you will need.

--------

“Ah! Little Shrimp!” 

Jade looks up from the numbers he was crunching, smiling as he sees you approaching the table. You wave at Floyd and nod politely towards Jade, sitting down and tapping your fingers against the bar. 

“You are here rather late, [Y/N]-san. We have two hours until closing time.” 

“I’m just…putting my plan into action. Azul said he wanted sixty by tomorrow, after all.” Floyd grins as he finishes cleaning up the remaining glasses. 

“Eh? You are doing something tonight, little Shrimp?” 

“...yes.” 

He leans close, smiling wider as he sees a certain change in your appearance. The Monstro Lounge was always dark in order to provide a more atmospheric mood at night but with the little light he had to work with he could clearly see traces of makeup all over your face. “Little Shrimp looks so shiny...just like a pearl.” You pull away as he tries to get closer, putting your hand out to stop him and turn your attention towards Jade. “Right. Do you have a backroom next to the stage? I just need to get some things ready--” 

“Go into the kitchen, farthest door to the back. There should be a door that leads you towards the back of the stage.” “Do you guys have a light booth--” “Next to the stage.” Jade’s eyes shine, interested in what you are about to pull off, “Do you need our help--” 

“Nope that is alright I can take care of this myself thank you.” 

Both twins watch you trot towards the kitchen, Grimm following close behind and about three ghosts ‘matching’ his step. 

“...Floyd.” 

“Yes?” 

“Call Azul. I think he’ll be interested to see what is going on.”

--------

“For heat. For heat. For heat!” 

You were doing this because of your situation. The situation was desperate so you had to take desperate measures. 

Grimm clears his throat as you finish fixing his bowtie, the transparent fabric looking beautiful with the stitched shells all over it. 

“Are the ghosts ready?” you ask. 

“Just waiting for the curtains to close.” 

The crowd goes quiet as you press a few buttons and close them, hushing the late night crowd as you step onto the stage. You try to step softly so that the click of your heels won’t be heard while Grimm opens up the rather large shell in the middle of the stage. This was usually used as a promotional device, customers taking pictures inside it to promote their visits to the lounge. It had a soft cushiony seat inside and could fit a whole student. 

You give a thumbs up to your other roommates, the ghosts smiling as their instruments manifested in front of them. 

Spectral instruments really came in handy in these situations. “Breathe...Breathe…” you sit down inside the shell and pull your legs up with you, fixing the train of your dress and touching the small shell tiara on your head. It was fashioned after King Triton after all, maybe Azul would get the reference?

Or rather, you hoped Azul wasn’t watching at all. “Okay...close it, Grimm.” He nods and brings the top of the shell down slowly, trapping you both inside as he gave the cue to start up the lights. This was all for a heater...and maybe some tuna. 

-----

-At first he wanted to laugh as he saw the curtain slowly being drawn back, when was the last time they used this stage? Student players just weren’t ‘in’ as much anymore and he had to keep up with the trends. What were you planning to do with this? 

-Yet his mouth clicked shut as the lights landed right on the shell, the music starting as your voice rang out softly from inside. 

-He barely paid attention to the band as the shell slowly opened, Grimm flying out elegantly as he opened it while your frame was slowly being revealed to him as every student’s jaw almost hit the floor. 

-Azul clutched his cane as he watched you cradle your legs close to yourself, the lyrics completely blowing past him as you stretch yourself out to show off the outfit you had on. It seemed to shine like a pearl under the lights, your chest being accentuated by how snug it fit against your frame. 

-He licked his lips when his eyes landed on your undecorated neck. It was as if you were begging for it to be decorated with bites. Surely he could make a nice necklace for you. 

-Dammit he should have sat closer, students were actually getting up from their booths and moving to any tables that were closer to the stage as you start getting up, the train of fabric in your outfit resembling the top of a shell as it brushes across the ground as you make your way to the floor. 

-He bites his bottom lip as he sees you making your way around the tables, your voice soft and melodic as the students watch the performance flabbergasted. You are letting your fingers glide against the tables, winking at some of the more bold students who put out their hands so they could touch yours.

-If you were to look at his face you would see no trace of emotion but inside his head he was screaming at you to pass by his table already don’t you know anything about customer service? 

-You finally make eye contact with the table he was sitting at, Azul feeling a shiver go up his spine at how your flirtatious eyes suddenly turned nervous. Nobody else had gotten that look.

-Again, he needed to see you looking at him like that again. 

 -So this is what you were planning. How interesting~ 

-He watched from behind Azul, taking off his coat and laying it on the back of the plush booth as he took in your form. Where had you gotten such a cute outfit, he wondered. The color made you shine like the rarest pearl and every time the light hit you just right he could see the glitter in your eyelids as you started to approach their table. 

-You made eye contact with him, clearly trying to keep up the act of ‘mysterious’ floor show guest but failing as his eyes took you in the closer you got. 

-The students groan when they see you sit right next to Azul, pressing close to him as he dares to put an arm around your waist and squeeze. Oh he could bet Azul was happy with how jealous all the students looked. 

-Jade couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him when you took Azul’s hat and shoved it in his face before pulling away as quickly as possible. 

-He follows your movements as you walk behind him, the sudden hand on his back making him hum in thought as the idea of pinning you right to the back of the booth so you would sing only to him suddenly seeming like the only thing to do in this situation. 

-You really had no idea what you could awaken in him if you kept playing around. 

-His eyes meet yours as you start walking away but his hand catches your wrist as he tugs you back to him--!

-But Jade, ever the unpredictable man, only presses his lips to your hand before letting you go.

-You were doing a floor show for the customers after all. Didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be talking to you later~ 

-Floyd had moved himself to the table closest to the stage, tie undone and smile wider than anyone had ever seen as he watched you pay attention to almost every table. The table he was sitting at had been filled with students who deemed themselves rather lucky to get so close only for them to scram when they saw who was approaching it.  

-He waves at you when you finally make eye contact with him, licking his lips and smiling as he sees your reluctance to get near him. 

-Which he didn’t mind, the fact that you were so wary of him made you all the more adorable. 

-You try your best to be as flirty as you had before, merely touching his hand as he holds it out to you but for Floyd that is not enough. The moment your fingers pressed against his palm, he snatched your wrist and brought you to his lap, students gasping as his hands landed on your sides. 

-Oh the material was so soft! He ran his fingers up and down as you press hand to his chest while you sang the last few notes of the song. 

-Floyd couldn’t help the little giggle as he saw the embarrassment on your face, your hand clearly pushing on his chest but his hands clearly weren’t letting you go. What were you going to do, little Shrimp? 

-His eyes widen at your sudden improvisation, your hands taking his and pressing them to your face so he could cup your cheeks. Instinctively he pulled you closer as the song suddenly stopped---

”Floyd-senpai, I have to go.” 

-The whisper is only for him to hear as you catch him off guard with that soft look and pull away, you holding out the last note of the song as if you had planned to be caught by him all along. 

-He clicks his tongue and leans back, eyes watching you go back up the stage and sitting inside the shell as you pull your legs closer to you before blowing a kiss to the now applauding crowd as Grimm closed the shell. 

-Surely the kiss had been for him, right? If it had been for any of these other bottom feeders...well no matter. Even if it hadn’t been for him, Floyd would make sure to squeeze you real tight the moment you got off stage. 

-----

You lay down on the cushion as you put your arms over your eyes, groaning as you tried to get your thoughts together. 

If this worked out the way you thought it would, word of mouth would get around and you would bring around sixty customers so that they could partake in what they had missed tonight. 

Has it cost you your dignity? Yes. 

Was the outfit embarrassing? Yes. 

Did you have to flirt with all three Octavinelle members so they would see that you were serious about finally going to sleep without shivering? Yes and yes. 

At least it was over. 

“Yo Grimm. Can you open this? I want to change!” 

Your hands tap the top of the shell, sighing in relief as it slowly opened. 

Only for you to yelp as hands pin you down to the cushion, a very familiar face grinning down at you as Floyd laughs merrily. 

“Ahaha~! Nee, that kiss was for me, right Little Shrimpy? You blew that my way, right?” 

Jade sighs and steps behind his brother, pulling him up by the collar so that you could get your bearings. 

“It was at the customers, Floyd. I believe [Y/N]-san wanted this to be spoken about tomorrow, correct?” 

You nod as he lets go of Floyd and holds out his hand for you to take. 

“What an interesting plan...right Azul?” 

The Octavinelle dorm leader isn’t really looking at you, he is still staring at everything that you had on taking it as much as he could before your voice brought him back. “So...how did I do?” 

Azul blinks before smiling as he steps close and holds out his arm for you to take. 

“I have yet to see the terms of the contract be met but...we can discuss how you did in my office. Mind telling me how you came up with this plan? ” 

“Y--Yeah! Sure!” 

You take Azul’s arm and speak about your thought process, not noticing the grins on the eel’s faces as they hold themselves back until they reach Azul’s office. 

How nice, it would be the first time you would be staying over at Octavinelle, even if you didn’t know it yet.  

[orange-waterfalls]

Unnecessary Feelings

The Host x gn!reader

ty anon for the request

A/N: BRO. Bro. Bro I. I am so proud of this one don’t even look at me. Also happy spooky month! Might do something with that, idk though. This is more of another character study with the Host, I’ll be honest. I still think it’s pretty cute, though. I didn’t read back through this, lmk about any mistakes. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k

Unnecessary Feelings

Host isn’t particularly looking for a relationship, of any sort. Not necessarily. It would be nice, but it isn’t at the forefront of his mind. It’s not that important. Change is weird. He’s been in his same office, writing the same kind of stories, with the same kind of people. That’s fine. He likes that. He likes his novels, his protagonists, and his office.

He explained all of these things to Wilford and Darkiplier, but neither was having it. That’s how he ended up staying at the manor for a while, while his place was being “renovated”. He didn’t know how much he trusted Wilford to “renovate” correctly. 

Wilford likes pink. A lot. Host doesn’t. He can't see it, but he knows it. Pink was loud. Pink smelled like raspberries and icing and cherry blossoms and shrimp. It sounded like fair music and joyful screaming and chalk scraping on the ground. It felt smooth and soft and squishy. It tasted like sugar, sugar, sugar, too much to be healthy. Pink made his brain hurt. He doesn’t like pink. Wilford likes pink. Wilford… Wilford fucking loves pink. And Wilford will say it’s pink, and Host will know it’s pink, and even though he can’t see it, he’ll be upset that it’s pink. He doesn’t like pink. He doesn’t know how to say it. So he doesn’t. And he copes.

He takes the opportunity to talk to the others staying at the manor, which was pretty much just Dr. Iplier and… you. Dr. Iplier was a… reasonable man. He was boring. Very boring, really. He directed every conversation to discuss your health or a weird patient he had recently, neither of which really interested the Host. He didn’t enjoy talking to Dr. Iplier too much. 

You, however…

Were also kind of boring?

Well, you mostly just wandered around, reading, cleaning, sleeping, not doing much else. He didn’t initiate conversation and neither did you. If you sat next to him on the couch and he sat a little straighter and breathed a little faster, that was simply a coincidence. And the urge to talk to you about his novel for hours was simply boredom. And the desire to listen to you talk for hours was… it was none of your goddamn business is what it was. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t dislike you either. He felt nothing. You made him feel nothing. This didn’t mean anything.

Really. 

It didn’t.

But, entirely too fast, Dark and Wil were done. Or rather, whoever they hired was done. Which was good. Host bid you two goodbye. Dr. Iplier told him to drink plenty of water but not too much, and you told him you’d keep an eye out for his newest novel. He felt like he should be blushing right now, he felt it in his face. Nobody commented, so he assumed he didn’t. He felt a thing happen in his chest as he looked at the two of you. 

He didn’t like either of you, and if he kept telling himself that, maybe it would come true.

He received a new office. It was much cleaner and brighter, and he actually had room to think. There was an espresso machine in the corner atop a pink table, a “dandelion” yellow couch next to it, a pastel pink desk against the opposite wall, and a few “motivational” posters on the baby blue walls. At least from what he’d heard. Wilford did his best to explain the room. He appreciated that the walls were not, in fact, pink like he expected.

He had to walk around a few times, keep track of his steps, and get used to the new layout. It’s a good room. Clean. No nails sticking out of the floor, no rats scurrying around, no cobwebs, no holes, no nothing. Clean and quiet. Clean. And. Quiet.

… 

He fucking hates the goddamn room.

Who likes silence? Who enjoys that? Who wants to be stuck in a suffocatingly clean office with nothing but their thoughts for hours at a time? Homicidal people, that’s who.

Ignore the fact that he has homicidal tendencies and has almost killed/has killed several people, that doesn’t matter right now.

He can just sit and deal. He can take the office, try to coax the rats into coming back, buy some spiders, and write. No big deal.

Except what if he didn’t deal? What if he told them he hated it and couldn’t work in these conditions? What if he was forced to stay at the manor again? What if he could… talk… and interact with people? Without anything barring him from doing so?

He’s… not lonely. 

He’s not lonely. 

He’s not.

But if he stays in the manor again while Wilford talks about how he has no taste and Darkiplier decides to be in charge of the renovation now, that’s not his fault.

Bim, Eric, and you were staying at the manor when he had to. For the second time. Bim had a thing for rom-coms and dramedy movies, and Eric had started to pick that thing up. You and Host also watched the movies, but whether you actually liked them was beyond him. Usually, you made fun of them together. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear a lot of the ridiculous dialogue. He could drop two random people in a closed-off room together and they’d have more chemistry than half of these Hallmark Christmas Movie couples. You were very quiet during “To All The Boys I Loved Before”, however, so either you loved it or you hated it. He couldn’t really tell.

You two talked a little less than before, you being preoccupied with Eric. Host was fine with that. He could just… talk to you whenever you were done. But you apparently had a low social battery and trapped yourself in a room whenever you were done talking to Eric. That was fine. Host didn’t need to be happy anyways. 

He may or may not have showed up at your door first thing in the morning sometimes to get the chance to talk to you. You didn’t know, so it was fine.

But Eric and Bim were smart. They picked up on the Host’s… “feelings” and desire to talk to you. If either were in a room with you and Host, they immediately left so that you could talk. It worked, and Host was happy, but he felt kind of bad.

No. No he didn’t. He felt no emotion towards anyone or anything. The suit he bought for Bim and the journal he bought for Eric meant absolutely nothing. It was a business transaction. You can’t prove anything.

Somehow quicker than before, the room was fixed. Again. And you, Eric, and Bim saw him off. Eric’s voice sounded wet and Bim sounded a little sad as well. You sounded… fine. But he had a suspicion that you knew you were going to see him again soon. And Host was not upset, of course not. And if he was thankful his eyes weren’t exactly working properly because otherwise he might have shed a few tears, it was completely unrelated. You can’t prove anything.

The new room was completely black and white. Black laptop and a white desk with a black chair. White walls and a black floor. A white couch against the wall. No espresso machine this time, which slightly disappointed the Host. 

Darkiplier sounded proud when he explained the room. Host could see why, it sounded very pretty. Which he tried to say when he turned to Darkiplier. But his traitorous mouth instead said:

“Host asks if this room is meant for the Host or you?”

The Host was teleported back to the manor this time. Wilford was standing out in front, Host knew because he heard the man’s distinct yell of surprise. He also smelled gunsmoke and wine.

“Wilford.”

“Host. What are you doing here?”

“The Host asks what you are doing here?”

“... I asked you first.”

“The Host asked you second.”

“... business. You?”

“... business.”

“Ah… well, cheers.” Quick footsteps get quieter as Wilford runs away. Host stood for a moment,  debating whether or not to apologize to Dark. Before he could decide, the door opened.

“Host?” You asked. Host instantly felt himself straighten up and ball his fists.

“Hello.” He said stiffly.

“Another renovation?” He heard the smile in your voice and forced himself not to smile back.

“Host assumes so.” He nodded.

“So…” You sighed.

“So?” He tilted his head.

“Are you coming in?” You asked. Host let himself smile as he walked into the manor.

He didn’t see you all too much for the rest of the week, and he was severely disappointed. There wasn’t really anybody staying there, just a few people visiting over a few days. Yancy, Illinois, and maybe Bing, if the sound of a skateboard at 3 in the morning was any clue. He was pretty much alone. And that was fine. He was usually alone. He was used to it. This was fine.

Maybe he should stop lying to himself so often.

All too soon, he was on his way back. Again. You were the only one to see him off this time.

“Well… um…” You started. The tension between you two was like a punch to the gut. You were perfectly fine before. What happened?

“Host bids you farewell,” He nodded politely and turned around. Maybe if he left quickly, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Wait, Host!” You called. He froze. “I’m, uh… I’m coming with you.” He spun around to face you.

“Host… asks what you mean?”

“I wanna… see your office. I mean, if I’m… allowed to visit?” You said meekly. Host felt his heart quicken.

“The Host would love-like that,” He coughed as he corrected himself. 

“Ok, good,” He could hear the smug smile in your voice. Damn him and his… feelings.

The commute to his thrice-new office was almost silent. Neither of you said anything. You most likely wanted to wait for the Host to start the conversation, but he didn’t want to bother you if you didn’t want to talk. It was a little awkward. But after a while, it became comfortable. He liked just being in your presence.

He thought that was what he would miss most about the manor.

You both stood outside of his office door when you arrived.

“Well… here we are.” You whispered. Host nodded solemnly. “Do you want to do the honors.” Host lifted his hand to the doorknob, feeling himself shake. He clutched the doorknob, not moving an inch. He could feel your eyes on him. You were worried. This was fine. 

You could visit. But what if you didn’t want to? What if you saw his stories? What if you thought he was cruel? He was, but not to you. He would never be to you. He could stop. He could write different stories. He could write a romance! It would still affect people’s lives, but for the better? At least until the story ended and he had no control over it. What if you wanted him to stop? He couldn’t just stop. Would you give him an ultimatum? You wouldn’t… would you?

“Host--” You started. He whipped around to face you.

“The Host does not want to enter the room.” He said, voice wavering a little. He cleared his throat. Embarrassing.

“What? Ho-”

“The Host wants to talk to people. The Host… wants friends. The Host wants to stay with you and the others.” He grits out. God, this was pathetic. Was he begging? 

“Host, open the door.” You sighed. The Host froze. What? Why were you… what?

Oh. So that was it. You were seeing him off… for the last time. You didn’t… you… didn’t like… 

Right. Yeah. You were a polite person. He should’ve known.

“But…” He trailed off and faced the floor.

“Host, I really think you should open the door,” You said, the smile clear in your voice. His eyebrows furrowed. Well, you didn’t have to be so eager about it, Jesus.

The Host grabbed the doorknob and threw the door open with a crack against the wall.

“Jesus, man!” Bim’s distinct game show voice sounded from inside the room. Left front corner. “What’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“I always thought he was a boxer-briefs man.” Dr. Iplier said from the opposite side.

“I can confirm that he is, in fact, a boxer-briefs man.” Google said from the same place as Dr. Iplier.

“I honestly would’ve thought commando.” Eric’s voice was muffled, as if he was facing away from everyone else.

What… What the fuck?

“What. The fuck.” He said loudly. You clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Surprise! We’re invading your office. Please don’t resist.” He could, again, hear the smirk on your face. He almost wanted to be mad. Almost.

“What?” He turned to you. You let go of him and stepped in.

“We fixed your room! You got your bland-ass beige walls, your hardwood floor, cobwebs, dust, and I think there’s a rat somewhere in the walls…”

“His name is Remy!” Eric said happily.

“Sorry, Remy is somewhere in the walls.” Host didn’t move, still processing this whole situation.

“The Host… doesn’t understand…” He rubbed his temples.

“Well, you seemed… lonely. And we like spending time with you. So… we’re gonna spend time with you!” Bim explained.

“You don’t have to do things alone anymore. Just… call someone up and we’ll come hang out.” Dr. Iplier said.

“Only if you ask, though.” Eric added softly. Host didn’t move for a long while.

The others began to fidget, thinking they did something wrong. Eventually, he took a breath, and everyone else held theirs.

“Is… is the Host’s equipment still here?” He asked.

“Your writing stuff? Yeah, it’s on the desk.” You answered. Host went quiet again, thinking.

“Do… You guys want to help the Host write something?” He mumbled.

“Hell yeah we do!” You clapped your hands once. Host made his way over to his desk. All the others, including you, crowded around him as soon as he sat down, pushing each other to get a good look.

This was slightly claustrophobic and pretty uncomfortable… 

…

It was perfect.

[beardedmrbean]

(about that abortion post) I hate the whole debate about when "life" begins 'cause, let's say I drop a ball at time t=0. At this exact moment, is the ball moving ? No, it hasn't started had time to accelerate so its speed is 0. One second later, at the moment t=1, is it moving ? Yes, because it has been accelerating so its speed is not 0. So then when does the ball start moving ?? You might say t=0, but we've just said it's not moving at this moment. There's no right answer, because the question is nonsense in the first place. Movement is something inherently based on time, and we're asking about movement happening in a single moment.

It's the same thing for life. Every single criterion for living beings is based on some change or movement of some kind : Ability to reproduce, to grow, to use energy, to adapt and respond to its environment. All of that takes time to happen, it can't exist in a single moment. Life itself can't exist in a single moment, it only exists in durations. So why are we making such a debate about when "life" begins, when the initial question is nonsense to begin with ! Life happens incrementally, over time, and there's no single moment where the universe goes "Ah that's it, it's a living being now"

I'm not sure which post you're referencing, I usually do my best to stay out of that particular debate publicly at least.

Gotten into it with some friends in private on here, much better way to do it imho because a person that knows you is far less likely to put words in your mouth.

You're also going philosophical instead of scientific for some of what we've got up here, no biggie to me I can do either if you want.

Just because i don't talk about it doesn't mean I don't have an opinion.

I will be doing my best to state nothing coloured by my own opinion here and keep it short too.

From a philosophical standpoint, you make a fair case, there's stages and all that good stage where it runs into problems still from a philosophical standpoint is if you believe the "potential" for life is good enough or not to call it a life.

Scientifically speaking

even if you want to claim that the zygote is a complete human, you've still got 4 to 6 days for post exposure prophylaxis, after that there's no more wiggle room for people that firmly believe life begins at conception.

Which then all goes back to philosophy and what is life, how is it defined, is the soul real ect.

There's never really going to be a agreed upon consensus with this either sadly, not one that I can see at least. __________________

Gonna ramble, main thought is over now will likely put a last thought in but we'll see

I will say one of the funniest things I've seen is couple people screaming at a girl who opposes abortion, and they were doing the standard thing where they start spouting off lines and laws from the Torah/first 5 books of the Christian Bible and asking about that whole clothes made of 2 types of cloth, no shrimp or bacon, no cheeseburgers, sit outside in a menstrual hut and be ritually cleaned after so you can be around people again (for some reason they never seem to get to the point about what happens if you assault a woman and trigger a miscarriage, weird that)

I hate all those arguments to begin with because as Christians we have a different set of far less stringent rules, but in this case it was double funny.

After they did their whole song and dance about how she was a hypocrite for selectively shilling for some laws and not others she hit them with a wonderful whammy.

"I'm an atheist"

Funny stuff they no clue how to respond to that one. I think that whole thing with the "produced by" whoever and the funny music started, been a long time. ________________________________

Continuing thought to close up.

This is going to be a subject fraught with anger and emotions and everything else under the sun for a long time, wish there was a easy solution where both sides could feel like they managed 80% or more of a victory.

But we'll see eventually I think.

[ff-imagines]

Can i request some nsfw headcanons for mantis shrimp? I read through your blog and let me just say: I'm a big fan. Btw if you dont wanna do them thats fine as well

Salt and pepper shrimp: nsfw alphabet

I did the whole alphabet bc? Why not! Side note I rly wanna write a fic going off my thoughts ab his experience level >:)

A - aftercare

Look, getting him to release you from his hold to go to the bathroom on a regular night is a battle enough. After sex? Phew I wish you luck. Might wanna just put some water on your night stand beforehand. You would be able to convince him to take a bath with you pretty easily though, he likes how the warm water feels very much. Make sure to cuddle him in the bath still, he's in a very vulnerable state right now and he really needs some good old tlc.

B- body parts

he’s got a weird fixation with your hands. He likes to compare hand sizes, whether your hands are bigger or smaller isn’t what he likes, he just likes to admire them. He loves sucking/biting your fingers while he’s got you in his lap. Lacing your fingers with his with one hand while bringing the other to his cheek, nuzzling into your hand while he bounces you on his cock.

On himself, there is tragically little that he genuinely likes. He views himself as a weapon, getting him to unlearn that will not be an easy process, trust me, Boston has tried. Complimenting his eyes does seem to make him a little more flustered than other praises, and he has a hard time staring you in the eye during sex…. maybe we can start there.

C - cum

His cum is pretty thin but there’s a shit ton of it. Enough that if he cums inside you swear you can feel the warmth as his cock pours rope and rope of his seed into you.

He doesn’t actually care where he cums, just ask him and he’ll comply.

inside you? sounds good.

On your back? Say less.

On the floor? You’re cleaning it, but sure.

He did discover he’s got an affinity for watching his cum on your tongue. I don’t know how you’d be able to swallow it all, but any attempt you make will be met with shrimp getting hard all over again.

D - dirty secret

He secretly thinks it’d be really hot for you to dom him. It’s gonna take a very long time before he’s comfortable letting you have that Linda control over him, just the thought of being tied up, hands behind his back while you praise him for being such a good boy, its a fantasy he’s visited on many sleepless nights.

E - experience

Nope. Nada. To be frank, I think he’s the definition of Demisexual, and he has yet to meet anyone besides Boston and the anti-human gang who he genuinely wants to get to know better. He definitely hasn’t met anyone who wants to get to know better for romantic reasons.

He doesn’t know enough about human customs to know that it can be embarrassing for someone to be inexperienced, but he does feel very very nervous the first few times. He’ll need a lot of reassurance, give him praise and he’s putty in your hands.

F - favorite position

I'm gonna be boring and say missionary. It’s simple, easy, and since he’s brand new to all of this it’s the least mentally overstimulating. He very much likes that he can see your face.

If he’s feeling extra spicy he might grab onto the inside of your knees and push you into the mating press, though he really only does this if he’s upset or jealous.

If you ask nicely he might let you sit in his lap, as a treat. Bouncing on his cock as he litters your chest with bite marks, what a treat it is <3

G - goofy

…. yea for sure definitely. He’s a real jokester.

On a serious note, he himself is not a goofy person whatsoever, but he would actually like it if you were. Outright making fun of him or harsh teasing is an immediate turn off, but light jokes to ease his nerves is for sure welcomed since he’s very tense the first few times.

Give him time and you might even catch him cracking a small joke himself, all the while giving you a weak, nervous smile.

H- hair

He doesn’t trim or shave anything lmao. He’s busy, and also doesn’t care literally at all. He’s got a thin happy trail that can be easy to miss since he's blonde.

He’s got the same energy with your body hair, he doesn’t care. If you do shave he might ask why, just out of curiosity. If your reason is insecurity, he’ll probably suggest you let it grow, he doesn’t care and he’s the only one who’ll ever see it lmao

I- intimacy

It’s an awkward “i hope to fuck I’m doing this right” kind of intimacy. He fumbles and messes up a lot, he might even accidentally miss when thrusting and end up just kinda rubbing himself on you but he’s really trying. Just from the fact he’s willing to try this at all with you is a big sign that he’s really trying his best to be as intimate as he can with you.

J- jerk off

Before meeting you, not a lot actually. He mostly just did it if he ever woke up from a wet dream and knew that if he didn’t take care of it now he’d never be able to get back to sleep.

After your first time together, his first time, he thinks back the immeasurable pleasure a lot, finding himself in need of relief a lot more than he ever did before. You are the catalyst to his drive, and you are also the only thing he can think about that can help him cum. It’s kinda sweet in a perverted way.

K- Kinks

He will bite you. It’s just so easy to bruise you and it makes your relationship status to others so obvious, he can’t just… not bite you.

Marking, going along with the biting kink. This goes both ways, he’d love for you to scratch at his back enough to leave red marks, to bite as his collarbone, grip his hips tight enough to bruise. He likes looking at the marks later, they remind him that he did good, he made you feel good, that’s all he really wants.

He doesn’t exactly have a breeding kink as much as this goes along with the marking aspect. Suggest to him that he cum deep inside you to mark your insides… he might give you 2-3 loads just to make sure you're nice and full, completely claimed.

He also kinda likes to make you cry. Overstimulating you to the point of tears gives him a sense of pride he hasn’t really felt before.

He really likes temperature play as well, dragging ice cubes and hot wax across your skin and watching you flinch and squirm just does something to him.

And of course, light bondage. He probably found out it was a thing after reading some kinda erotic fiction and immediately went to you like “why did you not tell me about this?????” He adores how to look all tied up and stuck, right in the palm of his hands. It makes him feel emotional as well, that you’re willing to give him such a powerful amount of control over you.

Last but not least, please praise him. During sex as well as day to day. Let him know he’s so pretty, he’s doing so good, he’s cock feels so so good, he might cum on the spot.

L- location

The first time he’d really need it to be in a secluded, safe area. He’s gotta feel comfy if he’s gonna get into the mood.

Every other time? Babes you’ve awakened a beast, he’ll get random spikes of “if I don’t at least try to fuck them I will scream”. You could be in the middle of a forest running from an axe wielding murderer and this horny bastard would still find a way to pull you aside and rail you against a tree.

There most likely isn’t a spot in your home that he hasn’t fucked you against.

Peaceful moment of washing dishes? Think again, he’s plopping you on the kitchen counter and diving to mouth at your neck.

Writing some papers? Just sit on his lap, you’ll feel much less stressed with his cock buried to the hilt, won’t you?

Doing laundry? Might have to rewash them cause now he’s using the clothes as a bed to fuck you on. He’ll apologize and help you fold them after they’re rewashed bc he feels bad lmao

M- motivation

Like I said, he’s set off by the smallest things. A little stretch, wiping some water off on your pants, humming a song, all of it can randomly make him feel the need to fuck you.

The most intense and quickest way to rile him up is either playing with his hair, or massaging his back. It starts out innocent but he just can’t take the thought of your pretty hands working so lovingly and not at least trying to reciprocate and make you feel good too.

N- no

No sharing. He doesn’t want someone else to see you, and he doesn’t want someone else to see him. It’s just not something he likes.

He also hates humiliation. He… would tolerate it if you asked for it, even if he doesn’t get why you’d want him to outright insult you. But for himself? Fuck no, he hates it so fuckin much. He’s a sensitive insecure puppy that wants your attention very badly, pls don’t hurt him like that :(

O- oral

Oh please give him oral. He’s begging. Well, he’d never outright beg but the way his eyes fixate on your mouth a lot is his way of silently pleading for you to wrap your lips around his cock. His soul ascends a little every time he sees his cum dribbling down your face, he might be even willing to make out with his cum still on your tongue.

As for giving, he’s got no clue what the hell he’s doing but he’s nervously eager to try. Guide him as best you can, he’s good at measuring your reactions so he can handle the rest. Tug on his hair a little bit if you wanna drive him crazy.

He’ll get a lot better with time, his eagerness to please however, does not leave him in the slightest.

P- pace

The first time? Slow and unsure, then he realizes “oh fuck this feels stupid good” and his pace becomes almost punishing. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s unknowingly going deeper and harder than you've ever been dicked down in your life. If you want him to, somehow, go harder? Grab his hand and place it over your stomach to make him feel his cock enter you through your skin, his hand slides down to grip your hips and slams into you, wiggling his hips without withdrawing to gain some of his sanity back before he’s back to a punishing pace.

Q- quickies

Oh hell yea. He lives for them. Sudden moments of horniness come to him all the time and since this spike in desire is brand new, he hasn’t really… learned to live with it yet. He pulls you aside into closets and alleyways all the time, he can’t help that you feel so warm and snug :(

R- risk

He doesn’t exactly enjoy the thought of a voyeur, he really doesn’t want to share you with anyone. But… there is a deeper part of him that finds a sense of pride if someone were to hear you getting absolutely pounded by him, desperately crying out and whining for him to go deeper, even better if they were someone who pined for you….

S- stamina

Well, to be frank he cums pretty quickly. It’s all so brand new to him, he really can’t help it. Lucky for you, his refractory time is crazy low. He can cum once, watch you do some mindless motion you always do and he’s right back to being hard again in minutes.

T- toys

Not against it, but is again, brand new to all this shit. He’s very interested in using your own toys against you though. Would definetly use a vibrater to edge and overstim you. He’d be interested in a cock ring, only if you were willing to endure a vibrator while he fucks you, he doesn’t wanna be the only one struggling lmao

U- unfair

He can be, yea. He kinda likes edging you, but not as much as he likes overstimulating you.

He loves to hear how you beg under him when he’s pulling you so close to the edge, keeping you just far enough to drive you insane.

Overstimming though? The way you twitch and beg, how your chest heaves and your mouth hangs open into a silent scream, eyes shut tight and watering, now that’s the good shit.

V- volume

Doesn’t talk much, but for sure gives out a lot of groans. This is something he’s never felt before in his life, the first few times you're going to get a lot of whines and surprised yelps, check up on him and make sure he’s still doing alright, he’s just very nervous.

As he gets more comfortable, he gives you quiet praises and promises to make you feel good. He also groans quite a lot, but since his voice is deeper it can be hard to catch.

W- wild card

He really wants to try using his prosthetic arm for temperature play, he’s just not at all confident in himself enough to bring it up. He likes the thought of you jumping and squirming under his touch, for now he can just stick to wax play.

X- X Ray

Mans is actually pretty fuckin big. He’s got no idea how big he is though. If you were surprised and a little nervous about his size he’d be pretty confused, is there something wrong? Did you change your mind? The concept of him being well above average is something you’ll have to explain later. It boosts his ego quite bit, even if he’d never admit it.

Whine about him being too big and you can just see the pride swelling in his chest, giving you no mercy with his thrusts.

Y- yearning

Often. Very very often. He’d fuck you multiple times every day if he had the time. However, you’re both busy, and you’d probably get a UTI with how many times this man wants to dick you down lmao. He’s got his cock buried in you at least 4-5 times a week.

Z- zzz

Actually pretty quickly. Even if he prefers being in control during sex, he kinda likes being the little spoon as he drifts to sleep. Give him some soft praises about how well he did and he’s turning into jello in your hold.

[aka-indulgence]

Take Me by the Hand

So I wanted to post this on valentines (it’s not exactly valentine-themed, I just wanted to put something out hjdsk), but decided it was better to post now -w- this is a little fluff fic for @yeosin-n!! She has a really cool au called underwaves, and of course she makes just wonderful wonderful stuff and i love them all- and then its an undertale au!!!! in the ocean!!!!! ahdjkshd I kinda instantly fell in love with it... and UW Sans (Naut) as well, so uh!! Here’s a fluffy self-indulgent fanfic!!

Naut (UW!Sans)/Reader :D!!

"heheh, ya look like a big duck, darlin'."

  You try not to make a frustrated noise at him (lord knows he's already having WAY too much fun with you) and choose to simply mumble to yourself quietly as you take step by heavy step towards the innocently splashing waves, as if taunting your predicament.

  "I'd appreciate some help right about now, I could do without the remarks." You snap (softly) at him as you waddle your way over the sand, your heavy diving equipment jostling a little with every step.

  Naut had been helpful enough to put all the weight on you, and you wanted no more than to strangle the grin off the bastard's face.

  He's lucky you're dating him and love him too much to do that.

  Naut only chuckles for a bit, in your face, and you're about to throw your flippers at him when his laughs finally die down.

  "sorry, sorry," Naut lets a few more chuckles out as he wipes the "tears" away from his top set of eyesockets.

  You could swear you saw his lower eyelights turned into hearts for a second…

  "couldn't help myself. ya sure are a cutie," he says, and you would've made a sound of indignation if you didn't see the flowers happily popping into existence near the hole in his skull, floating down as if a slow waterfall was carrying it.

  You're the one with the happy little flowers, you want to tease, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to hide it. It was cute and pretty, you loved seeing him happy and relaxed.

  Without realizing what he's trying to do, Naut's already by your side, going behind your back. Before you could ask him what he's doing, you make a "hup-!?" Noise when he hoists your tank up.

  "better?"

  He was.. helping you carry your equipment.

  "Y-yeah!" You startle (you're not sure why, but the fact that he's actually helping you makes you feel.. sentimental).

  "ok then, let's keep going,"

  With the help of Naut, the journey to the water’s edge wasn’t as painful as it was when you started trudging down the sand, and you eventually got about chest-deep in the water.

  Naut let go of your tank, keeping you steady while you fit your dive boots into the open heel flippers. You fit your mask onto your face, and Naut starts drifting into deeper waters, now bobbing in the waves (how do skeletons float…? Of course he came from the ocean but… it’s like he has invisible floaties on!). He snrks a little. You make a face at him (well, as much of a face you could make with a mask covering half your face).

  “What?”

  “heheh… nothing. ya just… ya kinda look like a fish? with the goggles…” He makes two C-shapes with his phalanges, bringing them up to his sockets. “oh glowing waves above, i just wanna pinch you.”

  “H-hey! Stay focused!” you fluster, holding your hands out to him as if he was going to bite you. 

  Naut chuckles. “yeah, you’re right… i can always pinch ya later.” he teases, and before you could protest more, he gestures with his hand. “ok, check your second stage first, and let’s swim slowly…”

  You give the purge button of your second stage a couple of times, before attaching it to your mouth, floating towards your sea-lover. You release the air from your BCD, and Naut takes you by the hand, gently guiding you into the water.

  Everything feels different as soon as you are completely submerged, the sounds around you switching from air to water; your surroundings turning blue in an instant. For a few moments, you can only hear the sound of your breathing, the bubbles burbling around you.

  “you doing ok?” Naut’s voice snaps you out of your momentary awe, sounding practically as clear as he does outside the water. “don’t forget to equalize the pressure in your ears.”

  The sand slopes down, and you tilt your head this way and that, giving Naut the ok signal when you think you’re good.

  He’s dropped his teasing and playing around as he slowly brings you away from the surface; you vaguely feel like someone with a blindfold on while someone else’s pulling you somewhere to show you a surprise. He has to keep looking behind him to make sure he doesn’t run into corals or sharks or whatever.

  Your world completely changes around you- not that you’ve never seen ocean scapes before, but actually being in it to see it for yourself sure is a special experience. You see your first fish, catching your eye as it darts away from below you. The sandy bottom keeps going down, and down, and down….

  … Until eventually, you reach a spot where it stops, turning into a plain of sand.

  Naut sits down- just, sits down on the sand, and it's so weird how he just so casually sits, legs apart below you, underwater. He tugs you a bit, pointing to the sand.

  You descend, knees hitting the sand with a soft ‘pwsh’... your hands inadvertently fall onto Naut’s ribcage.

  You see all four of his eyelights looking down, then lighting up, and you have no idea if he can see you blushing underwater-

  But thankfully, Naut knows to set his priorities straight, and right now it’s making sure your diving goes smoothly and safely.

  “good?”

  For a second, seeing Naut completely at home in this environment, you nod your head without thinking- shaking your head before giving him the ok sign.

  His grin grows and he laughs.

  Damn. Even underwater he still sounds smooth as hell…

  “heheheh… ok, bubbles. let’s get started then, shall we?”

  After about a minute of buoyancy practice, Naut kicked off the sand with his slippers (how did they stay on his feet under- you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t question the physics of underwater monsters so much), letting you follow him in your own pace.

  Not too far from the water’s edge, corals started sprouting out from the sand, and no longer than that, more sea life appeared. A rainbow of fish were milling about, shrimp and crabs skitter over the ‘living rocks’, and a sea turtle lazily swims by.

  Naut easily backpedals towards it, and it circles around him.

  Your eyes are taking in the underwater scene all around you with splendor; if you could smile, you would. It was all just so pretty, and your boyfriend’s over there becoming some sort of disney princess, as a few cleaner fish swim towards his skull. You don’t need to hold in your laughter on account of the regulator in your mouth, but your metaphorical smile gets bigger as you watch the tiny striped fish look around his crack while he’s completely unaware… he looks like he’s about to say something when his eyelights go out, as one of them starts nibbling.

  He flaps his hand like he’s swatting a fly away, and maybe you’re being tortured right now because you just want to let out a raucous laugh, purposefully shoving it in his face.

  “oh, of course, you’re entertained.” Naut lids his sockets a little, feigning annoyance, though the cute little flowers only continue to flow out of his skull.

  You want to gesture a “sorry (not sorry)” at him, but without knowing sign language, the most you could do is open your hands for a hug. He’s been wonderfully non-teasing the whole way down, and you think he deserves some credit, especially showing you… all of this.

  You’re thinking about how thankful you are to have him with you when you see his eyelights dart somewhere else with his grin turning mischievous. He points to the turtle still swimming nearby and asks “hey, what kind of turtle do you think that green sea turtle is?”

  … What.

  You blink at him a couple of times, trying to convey your “what kind of question” emotion you’re feeling right now, knowing he’s smart enough to realize what he just said-

  “hahahah, i’m joking i’m joking, i know it’s Chelonia mydas. c’mon, i’m no loggerhead.”

  w-

  …

  Loggerhead. Loggerhead sea turtle.

  …

  You raise your fist at him, and you hope he could hear your internal screaming at him. Looking at the way his sockets crinkle and his grin practically stretching from non-existent ear to ear, you think he can.

The dive was relaxing and pleasant, with Naut completely in his element, giving you the reassurance that you’ll be alright with him. He brought you to different parts of the reef, highlighting some of the animals similarly as to how he addressed the sea turtle.

  He brought you swimming closer to the seafloor, showing you clownfish in their stinging friend-homes, and with a straight face he said, “keep your friends close,” he put a ‘friendly’ arm around the carnivorous invertebrate, “keep your anemones closer.”

  You swam away from him then, closer to whee the sand starts sloping again. You met a singular jellyfish there, to which Naut poked away from you- it could just fit in your palms. You watch with mild glee as he gently poked it around… you know it’s a living creature… but wow did you want to bounce it and play around with it like a toy. He moved it away from you and sent it bobbing in the direction of the open ocean, and he turned to you to say “are you jelly you didn’t get to play with it?”

  You wanted nothing more than to show him a flat face, if you were brave enough to take the regulator off your mouth. You followed him back towards the reef, swimming through a large school of fish that parted as you did.

  “how you feeling seastar? i’m feeling fin-tastic.”

  He turned around to gesture at the school. “aren’t they like living artwork? so beautiful. i like to consider myself sofishticated, you know.”

  You almost couldn’t focus on the reef around you as you were both delighted and desperately trying to hide it from him, that you’re enjoying a diving buddy/instructor that could talk to you as you dive.

  You swam leisurely ahead of him, looking for more “landmarks” (sea… marks…?) to look at before you run out of gas, when you heard a rush of water behind you.

  You almost let the regulator out of your mouth when you see a huge eel flapping about near you, with Naut holding its tail end and keeping it from coming at you. He reeled it in towards him, holding its head.

  “don’t know what got into this guy. maybe your fins surprised him.”

  He goes silent for a while.

  “but i guess thaaat’s a moray for you.”

  Old jokes!!! He’s too much!!!

  You wished you could’ve said something to him so you weren’t simply being subjected to his continuous puns, but at that point it looked like you might just get that; when you saw that your pressure gauge showed less than 100.

  Naut quickly looked to you when you made a wave at him, giving him a 9-0 signal, trying to convey an “up?” as best you can.

  “oh. oh yeah let’s get you up, bubbles.” He said as he swam towards you.

  It was like- he had a switch for professional diving instructor and ‘regular Naut’. He quietly guided your ascent, slowly and steadily, making a stop below the surface to decompress, before finally swimming all the way to the surface and inflating your BCD.

  “Blah!” you ungracefully spit the regulator out, letting it sink into the water and take the mask off your face. “My teeth always feel weird afterwards…”

  “cus’ you’re clenching it all the time.” he floats towards you, putting an arm around you. “how you feeling, gull friend?”

  You open your mouth, only to stop when you realized what he said- as if on time, a seagull keows above you.

  You give him your best attempt at a seething glare, but you take a breath and smile, putting an arm around him as well. “You know what? That was really nice. I haven’t had this much fun in a while. … or really, I didn’t do that much before I met you. I liked this, Naut. Thanks for taking me out here with you.”

  You watch with satisfaction as Naut’s lazy expression and smug-ass grin fade away, his main sockets becoming wide and a light blush colors his cheekbones.

  Ha, gottem.

  “o-oh. you- yeah. i… you're welcome. anything for you, seastar. i’m glad you liked it.” his eyelights shift away from you.

  “Yeah… though not gonna lie, you really were a sun of a beach down there. Punning when you know I can’t say anything to you- it was like, water you doing!”

  “ha, yeah i know, it was-” Naut paused. And then he turned to you, seeing how smug and proud you looked of yourself.

  You watched how his eyelights dilated in his sockets, sparkling like sun rays dancing in the water.

  “heh… heheheh….” he chortled, “oh… don’t be mad now… it’s not a good idea to get too tide down to your emotions.”

  “Well- high tide or low tide, I’ll be by your side.”

  “better make sure you weren’t pier-pressured into that.”

  “Nah. I’m a girl who just wants some sun with my bonefriend!”

  He was smiling like a downright lovable idiot right now, eyelights shining like the sun.

  “hhhhoooh my god, i want to kiss you.”

  You give him a smirk.

  “Oh! So you’re feeling… naut-y?”

  Your grin weakens a little when Naut stops grinning, and his eyelights shrinking back to their regular sizes, shimmering. For a moment you worry if you said something wrong somehow, but your worry was unfounded- just moments later you watch as cute little hearts start coming out of his skull, with four of his eyelights turning into the same shape.

  “i don’t know why kissing’s naut-y, but it’s in my name-ture to be.”

  You’re smiling just as wide as him, ignoring how far he had to reach to make that pun. He closes his eyes and you let him lean in towards you, meeting him in the middle. He wraps his arms around you and kisses you while you reciprocate happily; bobbing in the waves under the sun.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: None

Word Count: 2682 words

Summary: You have a chat with your soulmate

Prologue

“So, you want some?”

He  takes your stunned silence as no, checking that the crab is fully dead before pulling off a leg and biting the meat inside. His teeth catch the light of the setting sun, glinting white in between chunks of crab.

“So were-”

“Soulmates? Yeah, looks like it.” He, your soulmate, cracks off another leg and begins to chew. You find yourself transfixed watching him, mind reeling with questions. He uses the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers to dig out more meat. You’re not even sure where to begin.

“What do we do know?”

He shrugs, sucking out the last of the crab leg and tossing it aside.

“Dunno, guess this mystery is solved though.” He taps his wrist and you get a closer look at his soulmate mark.

It loosely resembles a human compass, yet alien in it’s design.There’s eight large symbols, none of which you recognize, and the arrow is slightly misshapen before straightening to a point.

“I always assumed my soulmate was in the Atlantic or something, maybe even a selkie. When that thought always drove my ma up the reef.” He sighs, pressing his chin against his palm as he lays against a rock. “Wonder how she’ll take this. Maybe she’ll turn a whole new shade of blue.”

His chuckle is low, rough against your ears, but not entirely unpleasant.

You can see more of his backside as he scoots closer into the tidepool. The first thing you notice is just how big he is, his tail stretching from his hips to the open ocean. The second thing you notice are the defined muscles which stretch and flex along his back.

Okay, what the fuck.

There’s a pressure building in your temples and you think you're beginning to overload. Your fucking soulmates eyes wander, looking nonchalant as can be beforeperking up when he sees another crab. His body slithering away from you to snatch it up snaps you out of shutdown mode.

“Uh, I guess….what’s your name?” He doesn’t take his eyes off his soon to be snack, only humming to acknowledge he even heard you. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?” That at least gets you a chuckle, followed by a tiny crack!

“Cruz, you can call me Cruz.” You make eye contact as he takes a long, languid bite of crab. Your furrow your eyebrows, face unimpressed. He lights up with a mischievous grin.

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” Cruz says, popping the p and breaking open a claw, “But I don’t think you could pronounce my name so…..”

The tension in your jaw tights as he turns away from you once more,humming to himself and letting out a soft “Oh!” as the other leg reveals quite a bit of meat. You rub your brow and sigh.

“My names _____”

“Neat.”

In high school, your mom got the yearbook epithet “biggest social butterfly.” Your dad, however, was barely presentable on picture day and a social circle consisting of the three fellow chess-club members. You were a lot like your dad in many ways.

The conversation, to say the least, seemed to float on the water like a dead fish, and you had no idea how to resuscitate it. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t that missing piece yoru guidance counselor said it would and dammit, it’s kind of pissing you off. You’re pissed off that it’s pissing you off, because when has making first impressions ever been easy for you? Did you think this was going to be different, because what, a stupid mark on your wrist? That has no basis in logic, not even a little bit.

You refuse to dignify any emotions similar to disappointment which begin to well inside you, because it’s ridiculous. You worked hard to get to California, you’ve worked hard your whole damn life, what's stopping you from working now?

“Welp, seems I scared away all the other crabs.” Cruz huffs and places his hands on his...hips? “Been nice chatting _____, but I got dinner to catch.” Cruz looks back at you as he slinks into the water, sending a salute and a wink.

The words bubble up in your chest before you can catch them as he begins to swim away.

“Wait, but, um, I-” Your commands fall clumsily out of your mouth and barely leaves a ripple on the water. Cruz doesn’t turn around.

You feel the heat sizzling up your neck and face as you look at his back. Flashes of him, the arrow, your mom, that stupid guidance counselor paint the inside of your eyelids.

No.

“Will you wait a second!”

The scream barely echoes in the small tidepool, but it’s enough to catch Cruz’s attention. He whips back to you, eyes slightly wide. You realize just how hard you’re breathing.

“I-, just, can you meet me here? Tomorrow?” Cruz's expression stays still, only the slightest bit of confusion crossing his eyes as he raises his brow. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

….

….

“What time….. do you want to meet up?” Cruz looks far less mischievous and much more sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand and looking up at you from under his eyelids.

“How about 5PM?”

Cruz narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ah, right, merman.

“About three hours before sunset. I mean, do you know how long an hour-”

“Yes, I know how long an hour is. I’m not a pup.” Cruz rolls his eyes

Well, the sass returns.

The two of you stay in that position for a little too long. You begin to rub your arms as the cold of the sea breeze and your social anxiety slowly come back to you.

“See you tomorrow, I guess.” With a hesitant nod, his black-blue eyes looking pensive, he submerges. Your breath comes back to you in a wave as your soulmate swims into the open ocean.

The walk back to civilization is a blur, the pounding voice in your head drawing out all other noise yet barely making sense itself.

You’re not sure what you expected of the first meeting with your soulmate, but it certainly wasn’t that.

---------

The next day, Cruz is waiting for you at the tidepool by 4:55 PM, shucking an oyster with one of his claws. He looks up as your feet splash into the tidepool. You wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s an understatement to say the silence is uncomfortable. You take a beach towel out of your bag and begin to lay it on a large rock. The task helps keep your mind distracted, but you feel Cruz’s eyes burn into your back.

“So, I guess, what are you exactly?” You say, sitting yourself down.

“Merman’s best word I’ve heard you humans use, so that.” Cruz has shifted his focus  back on his oyster, which he then downs with one swallow.

“I see, I see. Are all mer-folk as big as you?” That catches Cruz’s attention. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face as he puffs out his chest.

“Not at all. I’m a Great White and we’re one of the…” Cruz extends his arms art in front of him, flexing his fingers and his biceps in a decidedly braggadocious manner, “bigger species out there.” He finishes his statement with a playful wink. A tiny smile crawls on your face.

Interesting. Male Great Whites are typically around 12 feet, but Cruz is only about 9 feet. I wonder why that is?

“I can see that.” Cruz shifts, ego now lifted, and lays his weight on his right elbow, facing you. “You mentioned a mother, do you have a clan?” Cruz nods.

“Yup. It’s my ma, my dad, my two older sisters, and me. Plus two other families. My ma’s parents were from this reef.”

It’s difficult for you to fight the instinct to whip out your notebook and jot all this down.Your inner scientist screams to pry into the complex social hierarchy and behaviour patterns of this new species. But the more sane part of you knows that would probably be pushing some boundaries.

“Wow, so you’re a true Californian, huh?” Cruz squints his eyes at you. “Uh, that’s where we are. The territory Santa Cruz lies in.”

He gives a low hum, reaching for another oyster  nearby. This movement is far more natural than his earlier show, but you still get a full glimpse of his cut shoulder muscle and tight abdominals. It stirs something in you.

Would he have the swimmer’s V? Okay, stop, focus.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He pries open the oyster, staring at the soft meta inside. “A member of the clan, born and bred.” Cruz brushed the pad of his finger on the shell, his voice holding a quiet bitterness, tinted somber.

Should you comfort him? He’s within touching distance, but the thought of grabbing his hand feels too intimate, soulmate-ship be damned.

Before you can make a move, Cruz throws his head back and gulps down the oyster. He shakes his head and lets out a small “Ah~”, then pushes his short hair back against his skull. Whatever emotion that was there before, it’s gone.

“Where are you from?”

“East Coast, bordering the Atlantic. So you weren’t too far off.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.” Cruz winks at you, but his eye catches a scuttling crab nearby. He gets low in the water, moving slowly to catch it by surprise. You don’t hum the Jaws theme, despite how much you want to.

“No siblings, just me and my parents.” Cruz doesn’t look away, even as he kills the crab.

“Lucky. How big's your clan?” The familiar crack of the shell follows.

“We don’t really,” crack “...have those. Humans can-” crack “We typically live near each other-” crack “but don’t get that-” crack “....close.”

Cruz hums contently, but you can clearly see it’s from the crab and not your one sided conversation. He sucks juice off his fingers. Seems you’ve lost him once again.

I didn’t expect this to be so difficult.

“Have you ever had cooked crab?” Cruz perks immediately, slowly turning back towards you.

Got ‘im.

----------

You return with two warm lobster rolls, a bag of crab legs, and some shrimp scampi. Cruz’s black-blue eyes just peak out of the water, suspicious.

“So these two are lobster, actually, but this,” You shake the crab-bag, “is all crab. I thought I ‘d get you a couple things to sample.”

Cruz’s nose (Is it a nose? There’s a ridge but you’re not sure if the slits count as nostrils. Questions for later.) just breaches the water as you set the crab-bag down and settle on your rock. You grab a couple of legs for yourself before nudging it  closer to him. “Have at it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You say midst a large bit of your lobster roll. The whole meal was not cheap, so you decided to indulge in this treat as much as you can. You’ve had a stressful couple of days.

Cruz slowly approaches the plastic, snatching it up quickly before looking inside it. His eyes widen and there's a small smile on his lips as he pulls a long leg out. His smile only grows bigger.

“Oh, also!” You clap, pointing towards the bag and jolting Cruz out of his food-induced joy. “There’s sauce, garlic butter, shit like that in those little plastic containers at the bottom. You dip the crab meat in them.” You take another large bit of lobster roll and hear Cruz break into a crab leg. Cruz gets his mouth ready to take a big bite before pausing. His eyes flit between the lef and the garlic butter, before he slowly pulls the lid off and dips the meat in. Cruz then takes the tiniest bite possible.

His eyes, black as they are, light up. He quickly takes another, larger bite. It’s quite adorable, like a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Cruz devours the leg quickly before snapping into another sauce.

“You like it?” Cruz nods, cheeks stuffed with crab meat as you giggle.

“What kind of craf is fiss?”

“Dungeness. That’s commonly eaten by humans. They’ve got some of the highest meat value and they're all over  the West Coast.” Cruz nods, though you’re not sure he understands parts of your sentence. “They’re also pretty sustainable to fish, although ocean acidity is kinda fucking with their babies. It’s also been fucking with Red King Crabs, which sucks because their only found in like, four places and are so beautiful and also sustainable and-” Cruz has stopped eating and is staring at you. After a big, long breath in you realize how fast you were talking. You feel the what of your blush on the base of your neck. “Sorry, I’ll let you eat. I just...really like crustaceans. A Lot of aquatic animals, but crabs especially are… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” You take a large bite so you won’t have to talk for a couple of seconds, avoiding eye contact with Cruz. You’re sure your chest and arms are bright red; It’s an embarrassing symptom of when you get too excited.

Cruz just keeps staring at you. Frankly it’s the longest he's looked at you and not a nearby snack. You chew the slowest you possibly can, the brioche bun becoming mush in your mouth, to fill the silence.

You don’t see it, but a small smile widens on his face. He picks at his empty crab shell.

“I think those facts are crab-tastic.”

You immediately choke on a bit of lobster roll, pounding your chest as you sputter between mouthfuls. When your eyes stop watering, you see Cruz has moved closer to you, hand outstretched and a couple inches from resting on your calf. He jerks it back when you look down at him.

“Wow, thanks, but puns aren’t really part of my vocrabulary.” You obnoxiously wink, scrunching up the left side of your face. Cruz laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full, belly laugh.

“Well I find them quite crab-tivating.” A larger laugh bursts from your chest as he mimics your wink and shoots you another big smile.

The sharp teeth are beginning to grow on you, adding to Cruz’s boyish charm. You feel the hot blush in your chest crawl up your neck once more.

Oh fuck.

Cruz reaches for another crab leg but hits the bottom of the bag, a playful pout now on his chin.

“Here, try this next.” You hand him the second lobster roll. “Probably don’t want to get this one wet, it’ll be soggy.” With no hesitation Cruz digs in, perking up once more and going to town. His teeth serate through the bread like butter. Within 4 bites, the entire roll is gone.

“Dang, I’ll make sure to bring some more food next time.”Cruz pauses, mid-lick of the butter on his claws and looks up at you.

“Next time? You want to meet up again?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Well yeah, don’t you?”

Cruz stays quiet, no sassy comment or a sarcastic look. Just staring, mildly shocked.

Your embarrassment bubbles back, screaming you’ve misread this whole situation and the last few minutes. “I mean, we are soulmates. Shouldn’t we meet up again?”

Cruz's eyes narrow as a barrage of thoughts seem to flit across his head. His smile recedes back into a straight line, that little spark leaving his eye.

“Yeah, I guess we have too.” He crinkles up the plastic bag, shoving it against your calves. “See you tomorrow.”

A pit rolls in your stomach as he quickly moves to leave.

Did I say something wrong?

“Uh, I’m actually busy tomorrow. Can we do Thursday-er, 3 days from now?” Cruz nods, not turning around to face you before slipping back into the water and swimming away.

The pit doesn’t leave your stomach, an empty sauce container rolling across the rocky shore.

What just happened?

[potteresque-ire]

Gg,

I’ll say this using the simplest way too. I’ll also say this, knowing it doesn’t solve anything ~

You didn’t start the culture of comment control (控評) and the fan circles that execute them, which stifled any rational discussions about entertainers. You didn’t start the culture of treating constructive criticisms—even opinions that fall short of being praises—the same as malicious slandering, something to be buried under a pile of positive comments, of rainbow farts. You didn’t start the longstanding frustrations among netizens, who felt they couldn’t even gossip freely when entertainment is all about the gossip. You didn’t ignite the antagonistic views of non-fans against fans that would one day turn into support for that movement against you.

You didn’t criticise fan circle culture on one hand, and encourage the practice of comment control on another. You didn’t tie the act of comment control to patriotism, didn’t mobilise fan circles to perform comment control on message boards in support of the Hong Kong police in 2019, taking advantage of the fan circle’s high level of organisation, their experience in performing such task, and their intense need to be seen as patriotic such that their idol will be viewed favourably by the government. You didn’t praise these fans who were there for their idol 阿中哥哥 (Chinese GeGe) — a virtual idol who personified the Chinese government—and called them patriotic. 

You didn’t make performative patriotism a pre-requisite for entertainers to survive in c-ent. You didn’t require performative patriotism to be placed above logic, above personal preferences in expression. You didn’t portray performative patriotism as a goal sufficient to justify any means. You didn’t teach impressionable young fans that as long as the cause was deemed by the powers-that-be as patriotic and honourable, one can ignore the laws, scale the Great Firewall and go to otherwise banned websites; one can cause havoc on and trample on their perceived enemy’s communities. 

You didn’t equate silencing one’s opponent with patriotism.

You didn’t market reporting culture as an honourable, noble deed. You didn’t resurrect reporting culture from its Cultural Revolution’s grave, with the knowledge that it had always been a weapon against people expressing different opinions. You didn’t ask your media arm to pen articles about the rewards to be made by reporting. You didn’t list the people who had reported on your official website like they had made honour roll. You didn’t make reporting so open, so righteous-sounding that many didn’t think twice to join the effort, even if it was only about a piece of fiction they didn’t like.

You didn’t make reporting of certain content on a website sufficient grounds for censoring an entire website. You didn’t make censoring a thing. You didn’t censor one of the few remaining websites left with relatively free expressions, while the rest of your team was already performing heavy-handed censorship on a certain pandemic—a certain pandemic that had killed, that had brought much anger, sadness and frustration. You didn’t put a chokehold on people who had already felt they had no room left to talk, when they were bound to their homes and could do little but talk. But vent.

You didn’t create a system where venting against the powerful could get one into trouble. You didn’t marry the politically powerful with the commercially powerful. You didn’t build the society where the few people left with perceived higher social status and who could still be attacked with little consequences were entertainers—especially young, recently break-through stars with little backing from the media companies, and the commercially and politically powerful people behind these companies.

You didn’t start 227.

The moment the axe fell on AO3, Gg, there was very little you could do, very little you could say. 227 was indeed an explosion, from too high a pressure from freedoms of speech that have been too strangled. They said you were mute? So were the theys who called you that, who didn’t have the guts to take their complaint to those who deserve it. You became the eye of a storm you didn’t brew, the eye that could’ve been anyone else—anyone else who wouldn’t have known better what to do. 

Offer guidance? Exactly what kind of guidance? Tell your fans that AO3, which does host material offensive to the Chinese government, has the right to remain inside the Firewall? Tell your fans that reporting is wrong? 

Is your guidance asking the solo and cp fans to keep their peace? Fans fight. Solos and cpfs fight. These fights happen on a daily basis, and there would’ve been no 227 if they were the cause of 227—because everyday would’ve been a 227. 227 became 227 because one of these fights, which happened to be between your fans, also happened to have knocked upon one of the most important pillars that prop up an authoritarian dictatorship: suppression of the freedom of speech; it stumbled upon what had already been a field of landmines, the buried anger of the people who have been silenced, censored over the years.

COVID put in a full, fresh layer of landmines, still buried shallow and waiting for inexperienced youngsters—who could be fans or non-fans, fans of any idol—to trip over their sharp corners.  

These days, people call the youngsters who tripped over them the shrimps.  One explosion triggered another and in the din, you were accused of not warning the youngsters, and thrown into the exploding field for punishment. To set off all the other landmines in danger of exploding. No one asked why the landmines were there. 

Appropriately, perhaps, or ironically ... have you thought about this, Gg? That your silence might have played a role to your survival in the industry, the support you’ve got lately from the state media? Because you took one for them, for those who created the storm and buried the landmines, who did all the things you didn’t do. Because you became a convenient punching bag for a country of 1.4 billion who needed something to punch. Because you took the blows gracefully and without complaint, didn’t utter a word that would’ve made obvious the instigator of the damage you’re now apologising for. You eased the guilt in the people doing the punching by having so many gifts they didn’t have; it must have given some people cold joy to land their fist on your gorgeous face. You’ve gritted your teeth and stayed silent even after the water armies, the yxh’s entered the scene, eager to feed on your corpse. The rot they smelled was the commercial value on you.

Have you thought about this, Gg, that you might’ve already performed the social responsibility implicitly demanded of you and in flying colours, by being the punching bag, the landmine sweeper? That when you promise to take more social responsibility in the future, that you may be asked to do something similar?

No one asked why the landmines were there. They’ll pile up again.

Yes, I’m frustrated. I read your letter and wanted to scream. I understand why you said everything you did, understand the realistic need to issue an apology and I respect and adore you, as always, for your maturity, your emotional intelligence. This letter is therefore neither a complaint nor a criticism against you; this is me, venting my frustration, from that half of me that knows painfully well that your letter is necessary and the right thing to do.  

Still, the other half of me wants to say your letter is utter nonsense.

Because your only mistake, Gg, is that you’re too likeable, and too likeable, perhaps, at the wrong time. You have too many fans who made all these issues you didn’t create so much more visible. You had too many fans at a time when COVID took too many victims, when the whole sociopolitical climate demands one voice and when every fan of yours is an individual with their own voice, their own likes and dislikes. You have too many fans who dearly love you but also require you to become a “public figure”—I’m putting this term in quotes as you did—a “public figure” who can help them decipher the conflicting messages the society is sending them re: the meaning, the responsibility of a fan, a “public figure” who, as you admit yourself, requires construction from Gg the Idol and Gg the regular person from Chongqing.

Gg the Idol and Gg the regular person from Chongqing who, you also said, require mutual acceptance. Gg the Idol and Gg the regular person from Chongqing who, therefore, must have significant conflicts—mutual acceptance isn’t necessary otherwise.

Who’s this “Gg the public figure” that will emerge? Or, what? How human will he/it be? How much will he/it still be you? Where are you going to be in this “public figure”?

And that’s the most difficult thought to endure this morning. To become a better self—you keep emphasising, as if you weren’t good enough, kind enough, courteous and respectful and professional enough to begin with.

A better self, may I ask, to who?

[atsuminthe]

Chef’s special

—Atsumu is sick of his brother making him his lab rat and having him test all of his dishes, so he invites you over to have some lunch with them.

atsumu version here!

note: i'm having so much fun with these i swear <3

taglist: @nakizumie;

"It needs. More. Salt," Atsumu grumbles, punctuating every word with a sharp stab of his chopsticks into the bowl of rice next to him. "A told ya, season it properly! What did ya even put in this?! It tastes like a wet cardboard box!"

"Shut it, ya can't even make a sandwich without lighting the entire kitchen on fire! A ain't takin' complaints from ya of all people!" Osamu retorts, turning around at the counter and continuing to mix the ground meat with the multitude of spices he's put in it. It has a nice color, the texture feels good, the meatballs might just be perfect this time. His brother's grumbles reach his ears and he throws a spoon at him, grinning victoriously when the blond groans.

"Fine, fine! A'll shut up!" Atsumu whines, when his phone dings, signaling a message from you. He taps the screen absentmindedly, lips puckered in an exaggerated pout. His brother snorts. "Waitin' for a kiss, Frog Prince?"

"Mind yer own business, Alaskan bull worm," the blond snaps, frowning. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, he scrolls past a particular message then quickly returning to it. A lightbulb goes off over his head, and he thanks whatever deity is up there for this amazing opportunity of leaving the "taste tester" spot vacant.

The message?

"I'm hungry".

You knock a few times at the door of the Miya household, arranging the straps of your very comfortable overalls. Atsumu invited you over to grab a bite with him and Osamu, since, in his words, "Samu's cooking and he's been force-feeding me for hours now". You laughed at the way he put it—a lab rat is the exact term he used for himself—but decided to come over nonetheless.

The door swings open and Atsumu absolutely, positively beams as he screams when his eyes land on you. He glomps you into a quick hug, letting you inside after a little idle chatting.

"So what's cooking?" your voice echoes down the hall, and Osamu freezes for a few seconds. You're here, he realizes—that's why that bastard kept smirking like an idiot. He'll get him later. Your voices get closer and closer, and his hand tightens on the spatula as he fries something in a pan.

"Oh! That smells great, Samu!" you beam, going to sit behind him, placing your small hands on his broad shoulders to raise yourself a bit so you can see what he's doing. "Is that fried shrimp?" He nods, trying to not burn anything from the storm of emotions that hit him. He can feel his twin's smirk burning through the back of his head—Atsumu's so, so dead after you leave.

Your voice takes him out of his trance when you ask, "Can I get some, please?" in that cute tone that makes him melt. He turns his head, smiling—ears tinted red and eyes glinting—and nods. He freezes again when you rest your head on his shoulder, but relaxes after a few seconds.

He could get used to this.

It's just you and him in the kitchen, the blond long gone after he threw a shrimp at his brother—and was therefore banished from entering it until you left. You laugh at the antics of your friends, munching happily on an onigiri Osamu made for you with the leftover rice he had. Whatever he says about his cooking—good or bad—everything he makes is delicious.

"Hey, Samu," you say, resting your chin on the table as he hums, letting you know he heard you, "what's your secret?"

"Ma secret?" he repeats, unsure of what you meant with that phrasing.

"Yeah, like—when you're cooking!" you continue, cheerfully. "There has to be an ingredient that makes all the food you cook delicious. A secret ingredient—a chef's special!" He laughs at your enthusiasm, but corrects you nonetheless.

"A chef's special is usually a dish, not an ingredient."

"You get the point, now tell me!"

Your impatience makes you resemble a child, and it's endearing to see you so invested in something he likes to do. Then again, you've put your heart and soul in anything he liked—from his favorite subject in school, to volleyball and now to this. He ponders for a bit, searching through his mind for an appropriate answer, placing the fried shrimp on a plate and turning off the stove.

"A guess," he starts, voice just a little shaky, and your ears perk up, "a guess it's love." Your head tilts, confused at the answer, but he shushes you so he can continue. He doesn't really realise the words that leave his lips—just lets them flow. "It's—a suppose it's not just the love for something. It's the other types, as well. Ya know... Ma general love for food, for ma family—for ya. A always think of ya when a'm mixing something, or chopping vegetables, or molding onigiris. Would ya like this one? Should a put more of this particular thing since a know it's among yer favorites? How would ya decorate this cake?" He laughs, quietly. "A guess ma love for ya is a major factor in this."

He realizes what he's said after he stops, and a crimson blush explodes on his face. Shame courses through him as he tries to avoid your gaze—but your soft hand grasps his, and holds it tight.

Your face is the same shade as his, but you don't look embarrassed. Quite the contrary—your smile is so wide and warm that it blinds him for a few seconds. You beckon him to lower his face, and when he complies, you press your lips on his in a sweet peck.

"I love you too, Samu," you whisper as you circle your arms around his neck. His hands land on your hips and he bends down to kiss your forehead.

For the first time in a while, he feels content. Maybe Atsumu's idea wasn't so bad, after all.