#specially when i never refer to him as ‘she’ in those drawings

[sunclown]

Begging u pls dont tag my zoro art as genderbent or fem zoro or ill kill myself in front of u 🙏 he just got boobs thats all

[austinswife]

DADA’S GIRL - Austin Butler

FROM SERIES — THE BUTLER FAMILY CHRONICLES

SYNOPSIS — Ever since Austin found out you were expecting a baby girl, he took it upon himself to handle the important task of dropping off and picking up Wren from school. Being the loving and protective dad he is, Austin never misses the opportunity to be there for his little girl. But today, as Austin preps for a special dinner, you pick Wren up from kindergarten instead. Things take a playful twist when some overly eager fans try to approach you, with a few even attempting to flirt with you. Wren, with her usual sass and fierce protectiveness over her mom and dad, handles the situation in her own way, causing a proud moment for Austin when you get home.

WARNING(S) — Family fluff, cute interactions, and a few playful, light-hearted moments, minor references to flirting, but all handled with innocence and humor from Wren’s perspective.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

Morning in the Butler household was always a gentle rush. Austin had woken up bright and early, like he always did, to make breakfast for you and Wren before she went to kindergarten. The smell of freshly made waffle filled the air, mingling with the sound of Wren’s little feet pattering against the hardwood floor as she rushed to her chair at the table.

You smiled, sitting down with your cup of coffee, watching as Austin brought over a plate of waffle with a little smiley face made out of syrup on Wren’s plate. He sat beside her, his eyes twinkling as he watched her dig in with excitement.

“You excited for your first day at school, sweetie?” he asked, brushing a blonde stray curl out of her face.

Wren nodded enthusiastically, her mouth full of waffle. “Mhm! I wanna play with the toys and see new friends!”

You and Austin exchanged a smile, your hearts both swelling with pride and a little bit of that bittersweet feeling that came with watching your little girl grow up so fast.

“She’s going to be just fine,” you reassured Austin, who had been extra protective ever since you’d found out you were pregnant with Wren. He’d insisted, from that very moment, that it would be his job to drop her off and pick her up from school. He couldn’t bear the thought of missing any of those milestones.

Austin chuckled, but there was a trace of emotion behind his voice. “I know, I know. I just can’t believe how quickly time’s flying.” He turned to Wren. “You ready for dada to drop you off at school?”

“Yesss mama!” she beamed, her syrupy hands in the air.

The morning drop-off had gone smoothly, like always. Austin waved goodbye to Wren as she confidently toddled into her classroom, her little backpack bouncing behind her. She gave him a big, gap-toothed grin over her shoulder before disappearing into her world of finger-painting and story-time.

With the day free, Austin decided to plan something special for dinner. He was feeling inspired, and since you’d been working extra hard on a film project lately, he wanted to surprise you with a home-cooked, fancy meal. So, as he spent the afternoon prepping ingredients in the kitchen, you took the chance to swing by the school to pick up Wren, giving Austin more time to focus on the surprise.

The afternoon sun was warm as you stood outside Wren’s kindergarten classroom, waiting with the other parents for school to end. The school bell rang, and before long, the classroom door opened, releasing a flood of giggling children, including your sweet little Wren, who ran straight to you with her arms wide open.

“Mamaaa!” she squealed, throwing herself into your arms.

You laughed and hugged her tight. “How was school, baby? Did you have fun?”

“Mhm! I made a picture for you and Dada!” she exclaimed proudly, pulling a crumpled drawing from her backpack. It was full of colorful scribbles that vaguely resembled a family portrait—you, Austin, and Wren holding hands in front of what appeared to be your house.

“Oh wow, this is beautiful,” you cooed, kissing her cheek. “I’m sure Dada’s going to love it very much, hon.”

As you were getting ready to leave, with Wren holding your hand, a group of young guys approached. At first, you didn’t think much of it—they seemed to recognize you from one of your recent roles, offering polite greetings. But soon, a few of them began to hover closer than necessary, clearly hoping for more than just a casual chat.

One of them reached out toward your arm with a cocky grin. “You’re even prettier in person,” he remarked, his tone a little too smooth for comfort.

Before you could react, Wren, with all the sass a two-year-old could muster, stomped her foot, glaring at the stranger. “Hey! Don’t touch what Dada’s!” she snapped, her voice full of toddler indignation.

The men blinked in surprise, taken aback by the fierce little girl standing protectively in front of you. You bit back a laugh, too charmed by your daughter’s loyalty to be annoyed.

You knelt down to Wren’s level, squeezing her hand gently. “Let’s go home, sweetheart. Dada’s waiting for us, and he’s making something yummy for dinner.”

Wren, still glaring at the guys, huffed. “Yeah! My Dada’s waiting!”

The men, realizing they were no match for a two-year-old’s determination, sheepishly backed off, offering quick goodbyes before disappearing down the street.

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked Wren up and carried her to the car. She wrapped her arms around your neck, leaning her head on your shoulder as you buckled her into her car seat.

“You’re so brave, Wren,” you said, still giggling to yourself as you started the car.

“I know,” she replied matter-of-factly, already distracted by her drawing. “Dada always says to protect you, Mama!”

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling at the thought of how protective Austin had always been of both you and Wren.

As you drove home, you asked Wren about her first day at kindergarten, and she happily chattered about the new toys she’d played with, the new friends she’d made, and how one of the boys in her class shared his snack with her.

“Did you have fun?” you asked as you turned onto your street.

“Yeah! But I missed Dada… and you!” she added quickly, her big eyes looking at you through the rearview mirror.

You couldn’t help but feel a little twinge in your heart at her words, but you smiled softly. “We missed you too, baby.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, you could already smell the delicious aroma of whatever Austin had been cooking up. Wren wiggled excitedly in her seat as you unbuckled her and led her inside.

The house was warm and inviting, and in the kitchen, Austin was busy setting the table, a proud grin on his face as he saw you both walk in. “There are my girls,” he said, his voice full of love as he scooped Wren up into his arms and kissed her cheek.

“Dada!” Wren squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, bug,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How was your day at school?”

Before Wren could launch into her story, you touched Austin’s arm, trying to hide your grin. “Oh, before I forget… you might want to hear what your daughter said earlier.”

Austin’s brow quirked in curiosity. “Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

You stifled a laugh and explained, “When I picked her up, a few guys tried to come over and talk to me, and one of them even tried to touch my arm.”

Austin’s eyes immediately flickered with protectiveness, his hold on Wren tightening just a little. “They what?”

You held up a hand, still smiling. “Before I could say anything, Wren piped up and told them, ‘Don’t touch what Dada’s!’ in her sassiest little voice.”

Austin stared at you for a moment, processing the story, before a wide grin spread across his face. He threw his head back and laughed, full of pride. “That’s my girl!”

Wren beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Yeah! They were trying to touch Mama, but I told them no!”

Austin hugged her tightly, still grinning. “That’s right, bug. You protect Mama, always.”

After a few more proud comments, Austin set Wren down and told her to wash her hands for dinner. You watched her dash off to the bathroom, still smiling at how much she was like her dad.

Once Wren was seated at the table, you all dug into the delicious meal Austin had prepared—perfectly roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables, along with a small dessert of chocolate mousse for afterward. Wren, with her little hands clasped together, kicked her feet under the table as she munched on her food.

“So, bug,” Austin said, his voice soft and full of warmth. “Tell me about your first day at school. Did you have fun?”

Wren nodded excitedly, launching into her innocent, toddler version of the day’s events. “I made a picture for you and Mama, and I played with the blocks, and a boy gave me his snack ‘cause he said he liked my braids.”

Austin exchanged a glance with you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, he did, did he?”

Wren nodded earnestly. “Mhm! But I told him my Dada makes the best snacks.”

Austin chuckled, his chest swelling with pride again. “That’s right, baby. No one makes snacks like your Dada.”

As dinner wound down and the night drew on, you watched as Austin scooped Wren up and carried her upstairs for bed, the two of them whispering and giggling together like they always did.

It was moments like this, these quiet, everyday moments, that reminded you just how lucky you were. Austin wasn’t just an incredible actor; he was the most devoted husband and father you could have ever hoped for. And with Wren in his arms, safe and sound, you knew that everything in your world was exactly as it should be.

[midnightlazule]

{NSFW} Virginity [Doflamingo x AFAB!reader] (2023 KT)

Summary | Becoming a personal maid for Doflamingo, the man who was most feared in the city you lived in wasn't on your bucket list. But when he takes a special interest in you, things change drastically, and soon, you find yourself falling for the devil himself.

CW | AFAB reader / she/her pronouns / obessive Doffy / mentions of pregnancy / loss of virginity / p in v sex / oral (reader receiving) / choking / marking / corruption

You walked alongside Gladius, nervously picking at your fingers, you looked up at him. He was a rather tall gentleman, someone who was looked at highly when it came to the Donquixote family. He had dazzling blue hair, formed in spikes that traveled upwards, with blue glasses that blocked out any view of his eyes. His mouth was covered in a pure white face mask of sorts, adorned with gold pins that glinted in the hallways warm lighting.

"Uhm.. sir?" your quiet voice echoed in the corridor, he paid you no glace, but leaned towards you to show he was listening, "why does Doflamingo wish to see me?" you questioned, referring to the letter you had received of him requesting your presence.

"I'm not allowed to tell you such things" Gladius' voice rang out, slightly muffled. You bit the inside of your cheek, curling your fingers into your palms. "Am I in trouble?" you asked yet another question, Gladius remained quiet. A nervous dread settled in your stomach, you had no idea what you had done to catch the eye of the feared mafia leader.

Surely you hadn't angered him?

You wracked your brain, searching for any kind of mistake you might have made in the recent months that would've required you to see the fearsome man. Sweat collected on your brow, and the nervous biting against your cheek grew worse. You winced, biting hard enough to draw a bit of blood, the metallic taste caused you to grimace.

Gladius sighed, sensing your nervousness, "you're not in trouble" was all he uttered, going back to being silent. Those few words managed to quell the sick feeling that had risen in your stomach. All went silent once again, only the sound of your shared footsteps remained.

You glanced around, looking at all of the expensive, high quality furniture and decor that adorned the corridor. The carpets were a beautiful red, you could only assume that they were made from expensive material. Nothing in this mansion was cheap, you were well aware of this, since you had been hired to clean the place a year ago. But this area was new, you were never allowed through this section of the mansion, it was stated that they had special maids who had been promoted to clean such areas.

You often wondered if that was a blessing or a curse to work so close to the most feared man in the city. One slip up and you'd likely be shot dead, or tortured, you didn't know, as you had never made a mistake. At least not to your knowledge.

Being too involved in your thoughts caused you to lag behind, not paying attention at all when Gladius had abruptly stopped. Nearly bumping into the man, you offered a quick apology for not paying attention. He motioned his hands forwards, turning you were met with a beautifully decorated mahogany door. Gold engravings of the Donquixote symbol glittered, raised wood in the shape of elegant flamingos and leaves ran up the sides of the door. Finally, your eyes landed on the intricately decorated gold handles that looked far to expensive for your hands to touch.

Giving one last glace to Gladius, you thanked him, giving a polite bow. And with a deep breath, you knocked on the door, feeling your body tense and shake with anxiety that gripped your heart like a vice. A deep laugh emitted from behind the door, a voice calls from within, beckoning you inside.

With shaking hands, you push open the doors, greeted by warm lights and pink hues from the chandelier that hung high from the ceiling. A man sat at the far back wall, elbows resting on his dark walnut desk. "You needn't worry about knocking, dear, I already knew you were there" he smiled devilishly, "please, take a seat" he motioned towards one one of the two chairs that sat across from him and his desk.

Not wanting him to wait too long, you quickly made your way forwards, trying to control your nerves. Taking a seat, you tried to sit up straight, not wanting to look too comfortable incase you insult the man. "Do you know why I called you in here today, ___?" he asked, despite the glasses he wore, you could feel his gaze piercing you.

"I- uhm.. n-no sir" your voice shook, looking at him with wide, scared eyes. All of your efforts to suppress your nervousness had failed, and now you were sitting across from this fearsome man, shaking like a leaf. He chuckled, licking his lips, he was thoroughly enjoying how terrified you were, like a bunny in a trap.

"I called you in here because I was informed of you talking about a rather taboo subject" his voice rang around the room. You felt your heart seize up, tears welled in your eyes, struggling to keep yourself composed you took a deep, shaky breath. There was no telling what he would do, but you knew lying to him was an immediate death sentence.

"I- yes.. I had spoken to the other maids of my section about uhm.." you stopped, feeling your face warm up at what you were about to admit. "I had talked to them about sex, and what it was like, since I have never.. done.. anything like that" you wanted to look away, to fall into a pit of darkness to avoid the embarrassment that was crawling up your spine.

A low hum sounded from the man, "You do know it's inappropriate to speak of such things while you're working, yes?" you averted your gaze for a moment, "yes, sir.. I am aware, I'm sorry" you knew it was too late to be apologizing. A deep sigh startled you, causing you to flinch rather roughly.

"Relax dear, I'm not going to hurt you" he chuckled, "I appreciate your honesty, most of you maids would sit and blame each other instead of fess up so quickly, I admire that" he raised from his seat. Your eyes widened, seeing him stretch to his full height, and suddenly, you felt much more intimidated than before.

"Tell me, darling, are you afraid to die?" he asked, you grew confused with the sudden question, but answered quickly regardless. "Yes, sir, I am afraid to die" you kept your gaze lowered as he walked around your chair, running his hands over the top of the seats backrest. "Then I must ask why you took up this job" he stopped in front of you, looking down.

You gulped, trying to keep your eyes from roaming to all the wrong places while he stood imposingly tall. "It was the only option I had" you answered honestly, "was it?" he hummed thoughtfully, "and what is it that you look for most in this job? Is it the promise of wealth?"

"I worked for the promise of a better life, sir" you flinched when you heard him laugh, the loud, booming sound echoed off the walls. "You're an interesting little rabbit, probably the most interesting I've had in a long time" he clicked his tongue, walking back around to his desk, he took a seat once again.

"How would you feel about being a personal maid of mine?" he smiled. Your eyes widened, opening your mouth to reject his offer, you stopped yourself. A sudden dread washed over you, realizing this wasn't an offer, it was more of an order, one you couldn't reject.

Because if you did, it surely meant your demise.

Calming yourself, you fixed your expression, dipping your head with gratitude. "It would be an honor, sir" your voice waivered, betraying your fear. "What a smart little thing you are" he smiled, "I'll have some maids down to collect your things, you'll be moved to the vacant room that's five doors down from mine" he grabbed a key from one of the drawers in his desk.

"I will have Gladius show you how to do your tasks as my own personal maid, make sure you're awake every morning before seven am" he laid the key in front of you on the desk, "do not disappoint me, little rabbit."

-------

Your new room being elegant and expensive was an understatement.

It was beautifully decorated, with intricate trimming on each wall. A dark mahogany dresser and vanity sat over on the left, while a massive walk in closet was over on the right of your room, filled with various kinds of clothing that were strangely, all already in your size. It had shelves upon shelves of different kinds of shoes, purses, anything that would be a dream for any other girl.

To you however? It was all too much.

Who needed these many shoes? Or hundreds of different kinds of purses? All different colors, shapes, and sizes. It was all too much to look at. The clothes were extravagant, all adorned with beautiful jewelry and stunning, intricate lace, something you couldn't even think about putting onto your body, it was all too beautiful.

You had compared it all to the few outfits you had, that were rather plain and dull from being washed so many times. The only 'expensive' thing you owned was your maid outfit, which you had been relieved from. Instead, you were given an elegant soft pink dress, one that raised a little too high over your thighs for your liking.

A pair of white heels were given to you as well, which were somehow worse than the slip on shoes you had to wear as a regular maid. You weren't horrible when it came to wearing heels, but you certainly needed to work on your balance in them.

A knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. Switching off the light from the closet, you quickly made your way to the door, opening it enough to peak your head out. Your face lit up a deep red when you realized it was Sir Doflamingo himself.

Quickly opening the door, you apologized for your rudeness, which only received a deep chuckle. "Are you settling in well? I hope the clothes were to your liking, along with the shoes and whatever else it is you women enjoy" he said carelessly, as if buying that many things was like spending a dollar on a chocolate bar.

Blinking up at him, you gaped, finally realizing that none of those clothes, shoes, purses and whatever else hadn't just been there. He had bought all of that, for you. "P-pardon my rudeness sir, but there was really no need to spend so much on me, I am not deserving of any of it" you sputtered, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He laughed, looking down at you with a smile, "if you are to be my personal maid, then yes, you are deserving of it. I wouldn't want you to walk around in rags while you served directly under me, it would be an embarrassment" you flushed red, realizing that telling him you didn't deserve such extravagant things was a direct insult to him. "I apologize sir" you bowed your head.

He waved you off, "I trust that Gladius showed you the ropes?" you nodded, "yes sir, he did, he said I began tomorrow, and that I should get rest" Doflamingo hummed, "I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow" he leaned down, having to kneel just a little to get to your level.

"Make sure you clean up, I look forward to having you" he smirked, his breath fanning the side of your face. You gulped, giving a curt nod. "Yes sir." And with that, he got up, leaving you behind as he shut the door.

What had you gotten yourself into?

---------

You woke up at three AM, tired, but aware that the clock was ticking. You had four hours to wash yourself, get dressed, and prepare everything for Doflamingo. Figuring you best get started, you made your bed and prepared the clothing you had been instructed to wear, setting them neatly on the vanity table.

The bathroom that was attached to your room was just as extravagant and beautiful like the rest of the room, a massive shower stood with a tinted glass door. Beautiful marbled countertop, and wide mirror.

You had done plenty of gawking already, but it felt like ever where you looked there was something new. Stripping out of your clothes, you tossed them into the clothes hamper and entered the shower, setting it to your desired temperature.

The warm water ran over your nude body, soothing all your aching muscles. You allowed your mind to wander, thinking about how so many things changed in just a couple of days, whether these changes were for better or for worse, you would fine out soon enough.

Washing your body and hair in scented products, you figured these were also chosen by Doflamingo himself, wanting you to smell a specific way. At least he had a good nose, a mixture of coconut and passionfruit. It was an interesting combination, but it smelt wonderful.

You had taken upwards of thirty minutes in the shower, a little longer than you had wanted, but at least you smelled good. Pulling on your outfit, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Fixing your hair, and making sure your dress was pulled down far enough to cover the middle of your thighs.

Not like pulling it down really mattered, with every step you took it rode up, causing you to constantly adjust it. You couldn't wear anything under the dress, meaning all you had was your underwear to keep your lower half covered properly.

Sighing, you took one last look in the mirror, it was time to begin all of your morning tasks before Doflamingo woke up. You felt sudden anxiety course through your body at the thought of having to see him again, scared that you may end up making a mistake, you could only hope he'd be merciful enough to forgive you.

Leaving your room, you made your way to Doflamingos office, where you'd tidy everything up from yesterday. You had to learn how to sort his files, all in a specific order, along with cleaning his desk and chair. You had to dust the room, clean the windows, and make sure everything was in tip top shape before he came in.

Thankfully, you didn't have to worry about his breakfast or coffee, which you silently thanked whoever dealt with all of that. You weren't a good cook, and most of the time you made the coffee either too sweet, or not sweet enough.

Straightening the files, you remembered Gladius' rule of not paying any mind to what was written on them, that it wasn't your business, and going against said rule could only lead to punishments. He never specified how awful the punishments could be, but you assumed they'd be worse than death.

All of his paperwork was private matters, things that went on in the darker areas of the mafia family, things you didn't need to be apart of if you didn't want to lose your life.

Placing everything back into its rightful place, you checked the clock, you still had two hours left before you had to be finished. Grabbing your cleaning supplies you began wiping down his desk, lifting everything up and getting every crevice, you concentrated on removing every speck of dust you could see.

You had an hour and a half left to dust the room and clean the windows.

But before you began, something had caught your eye, noticing a golden ring sitting out of place, you picked it up. Raising an eyebrow, you brought it over to the desk, not really knowing where it was meant to be. Placing it off to the side, you figured if Doflamingo asked about it, that you would let him know you didn't know where it belonged.

Surely he wouldn't punish you for that, right?

Clapping your hands together, you began dusting everything you could reach, having to stretch your arm upwards to get all the hard to reach places. You'd have to talk to Doflamingo or Gladius about a ladder of some sorts in order to get everything, especially since both men were much taller than you, and could likely see all the high places you missed.

It took you nearly a full hour to get everything dusted, you had almost knocked a few things over but with fast reflexes and the will to live you put it back into its rightful place, all in one piece. Now all that was left was the windows...

-----

Fixing your hair, and adjusting your dress, you stood idly by the side of the door, preparing to greet Doflamingo as he entered. You were nervous, scared even, while you listened for his footsteps. You started mentally checking off everything you had gotten done, trying to make sure you hadn't missed anything.

Regardless if you had or not, it was too late to finish cleaning, hearing footsteps approaching the door. You tensed, swallowing hard you straightened yourself, watching as the knob turned. Doflamingo walked in, you opened your mouth to greet him, but immediately went quiet upon seeing his angered expression.

He didn't have his usual glasses on, and was wearing nothing but a fluffy pink robe. He made his way over to his desk, glancing over it, his eyes landed on the ring that was sitting on the side of his desk. Looking up at you, he shook his head, clicked his tongue, and shoved the ring into one of his drawers.

Sighing, he rubbed his temples, it was clear he wasn't a morning person. "Tell me, darling, what was todays schedule? It was written on one of the documents I had sitting on my desk" he yawned, looking over at you. The blood drained from your face, eyes widening you looked at him.

There was a schedule?

Fingers digging into your palms, you held eye contact with the man, opening your mouth to speak, you felt like you were about to faint. "There was a schedule.. Sir?" it was barely a whisper, yet he still heard you.

Clicking his tongue once again, he rubbed his face, standing up from his chair he walked over to you. You took a step back out of fear, he didn't look angry, but this man was unpredictable. Raising his hand, you closed your eyes and flinched, waiting for him hurt you for not paying close enough attention.

"How amusing, you really are terrified of me, aren't you?" he smiled, he couldn't deny it, seeing your small, trembling form was a massive turn on for him. He had stayed awake last night, his mind racing with thoughts about you, about how you'd feel, how you'd react feeling a cock stuffing you for the first time.

You'd be broken in half most certainly, you were half the size of him. But the thought of you wrapped around him, squirming and mewling over his cock? God, he'd take you right here and right now, but he didn't want to ruin your purity just yet.

He wanted to take his time with you, allow it to build up nice and slow until you were practically begging him to fuck you. Surrounding you with wealth and fancy things was his first idea, he had been surprised when that backfired, not expecting you to be so against the idea of having fancy and extravagant things.

He had even gone through the trouble of 'misplacing' his favorite ring, and pretending there was a schedule hidden among important documents just to see if you'd fall into his trap. He wanted you to take the ring, to look through his documents, just to see if he could use that as an excuse to punish you.

But that had backfired as well.

You were definitely a mindful little thing, clearly aware of how terrifying he was, and the dangers you were in by working directly below him. You had so much power and you didn't even realize it, being his personal maid meant having power over the others to get things done for him.

All of these factors, he had used to try and lure you into a trap of his own design, but you had walked through each one like it was nothing. What a tricky little mouse you were. Though, one thing he realized, was how dull you were.

You didn't pick up on anything that could be taken remotely sexual, and that just drove him deeper into the hole of wanting to slowly corrupt you. To see how long it took before his words finally got to you, he wanted to hear you moaning his name in your room, pleasuring yourself while thinking about the man you feared most.

A delighted shiver ran through his body, realizing he'd been staring down at you the whole entirety of being stuck in his mind, he cleared his throat. You were standing there like a deer caught in headlights, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"You're dismissed, be back in my office by noon" Doflamingo waved, turning on his heel, he walked back to his desk and sat down with a huff. He watched you bow, eyes flickering down to your exposed cleavage. You left the room in a hurry, closing the door behind yourself, he heard your footsteps fade.

Just how long would he have to wait?

------

Months had passed.

You were somehow still alive, continuing with your usual routine of cleaning Doffy's office. Nothing much had changed in terms of your duties, though you had taken up responsibility of sorting his calendar and reminding him of appointments.

But the way you viewed Doffy, and the way you felt about him had changed drastically. You had begun looking forward to seeing him everyday, your growing feelings towards him were nothing short of concerning, but the more you worked around him, the more you felt like you were being pulled towards him.

It was as if he had casted a spell upon you, the feelings settled deep into your bones, causing your yearning for him to embed itself deeper and deeper into your being. It was a dangerous game to be playing, falling for the man you worked for.

Though a few notable things, was that you had grown increasingly more confident around him, figuring out what boundaries you couldn't cross, and which ones you could. Of course you still had your moments of anxiety, especially when Doffy was having one of his outbursts. All you could really do during those was stand still and agree with anything he said.

The way Doffy treated you had also begun changing. At first it was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but then it became increasingly obvious. He had given you permission to call him by 'Doffy' a nickname only those who he feels are deserving are allowed to use. He gave you permission to enter his bed chambers, to read whatever books he had on his shelves, he even went as far as allowing you to rest in his bed if you felt that yours was too lonely.

He had even begun talking to you about specific affairs that you really weren't supposed to know about, asking your opinion on certain things, and how they should be handled. His trust in you had expanded so much that it was terrifying, but you found yourself not wanting to disappoint him, wanting to keep him happy.

A knock sounded on your bedroom door, startling you from your thoughts. Quickly, you opened the door, bowing your head in respects to Gladius who stood there, looking down at you. "Doflamingo has asked that you see him in his bed chambers, it is wise to not keep him waiting" he said, giving you a small nod before walking off.

You watched him leave, Doffy wanted to see you at such a late hour? Did you do something to upset him? Anxiety started to claw at your chest, and it was now that you reminded yourself why getting too comfortable would prove to be dangerous. Grabbing a robe, you threw it over your nightgown, hoping it didn't upset the man further with how casual it was.

Leaving your room, you departed quickly for Doffy's room, bare feet padding along the soft carpet. You had forgotten to put on slippers, but it was too late now. The corridor was quiet, much too quiet than what you were comfortable with. Approaching Doffy's bedroom door, you knocked before letting yourself in.

"Doffy..? Sir? You wanted to see me?" you called out, his room was dark. Squinting your eyes, you looked around, spotting his bathroom light on you waited patiently for him to come out. Shuffling on your feet, your anxiety began to swirl in the depths of your stomach once again, making you feel queasy.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you felt a chill of cold, raw fear run through your body. Doflamingo sat on his bed, eyes trained directly on you. Taking a step back out of instict, you called out to him with a shrill voice. "S-sir?" you stuttered, alarms were blaring in your head, telling you to run. You so desperately wanted to leave, to return to your room and forget you ever saw the horrifying look Doflamingo was giving you.

His eyes were wide, unblinking, staring off almost as if he were in a trance. Swallowing your fear, you took a step forwards, slowly creeping closer to the man. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, your heart thumped madly in your chest, and you could hear blood rushing in your ears. As you moved to the side, you realized he was jut spaced out, not actually staring at you. It was just by pure chance that his eyes were focused on the exact area where you'd be standing.

Relief washed over your body, a relieved laugh fell from your lips as you combed your hair back with your fingers. All that worrying and fear for nothing. Making your way up to the bed, you were about to crawl onto it to try and get Doffy's attention before you heard running water. Paying Doffy one last glance, you turned and tip-toed over to the bathroom.

Cracking open the door, you poked your head in and gasped. You had never once seen the inside of his bathroom, it was beautiful. A massive in-floor bathtub with a standing glass walled shower off to the side. But that was enough gawking, looking around, you spotted the handles for the bathtub, turning it off.

The bathtub was just about to overfill, which meant that the water had been running awhile. But that didn't make any sense, Doffy wouldn't of called you into his room if he were about to bathe, and from the looks of it he wasn't in the right state to be bathing. Biting the inside of your lip, you thought back to Gladius and how he told you that Doffy wished to see you.

Could he have been lying?

Shaking your head, you left the bathroom, there was no point in thinking about that now. Making your way back to Doffy's bed, you climbed on, scooting your way forward until you were right in front of him. "..Doffy?" you called softly, waving your hand in front of his face. Worry had begun to settle in, you didn't know what to do in this specific predicament.

Leaning forwards, you hesitated for a moment, fear and doubt began to swirl in your mind.. What if he got angry? Surely he wouldn't want you seeing him like this? Swallowing, you leaned forwards anyways, wrapping your arms around him, you squeezed him into a hug.

He was warm, so very warm, it felt wonderful. Scooting a little closer, your legs pushed against his, your covered chest just barely hovered above his own. A shaky breath left your lips, raising one of your hands, you started to lightly run your fingertips along the back of his head. Slowly, drowsiness began to take over, fighting to keep your eyes opened you relaxed against Doffy, finally giving into sleep.

------

Where were you?

You could feel water against your skin, where was your robe? The wet fabric of your nightgown clung to your body, the feeling of it mildly uncomfortable. Your face was laying against something hard but warm, whatever it was, it moved against you, it was breathing.

Opening your tired eyes, you looked around, keeping your head against the hard object. You were in a bath? When did you get here? Why where you in a bath?

A chuckle startled you from your thoughts, going completely rigid, you held your breath. "Well, there's really no point in pretending you're still asleep" Doffy hummed, "tell me, ___, why were you in my room?" he questioned, "I know I gave you permission, but I find it quite strange that you came in during one of my most vulnerable moments" he didn't sound angry, just curious, though you're pretty sure your heart stopped hearing your name on his tongue.

Slowly moving your head up, you turned your head to look at him, eyes wide and lips parted. "Sir... I- I had been informed by Gladius that you wished to see me" you swallowed, "I came in and you wouldn't respond, and I noticed that the water was still running so I turned it off, a-and then I came back to you to try and make sure you were alright" your voice waivered, the words falling from your tongue almost sounded like a well constructed lie.

"I didn't know what to do, so I thought hugging you would help, and I ended up falling asleep against you, I-I'm sorry sir" you politely bowed your head, keeping your eyes trained on everything but his face. "Please forgive me" a deep chuckle emitted from his chest, which soon turned into a fit of laughter. You awkwardly sat on top of him, feeling the water around you ripple from the vibrations.

"Oh my dear, you have no reason to be apologizing, it is Gladius who should be sorry" he wiped a tear from his eye, "you are in no trouble, I just wish you had left me be... though I appreciate you turning off the water" he chuckled. Propping his face on his hand, he stared at you. "I must say though, you look absolutely divine in that skimpy little night gown of yours" he purred. "I could only hope that you had put it on just to try and impress me" a smirk graced his lips, bringing a hand forwards, he lay it on your hip, brushing the wet fabric.

Your face reddened at his words, suddenly feeling very self conscious of what you were wearing, you attempted to cover yourself. Doffy sat there, amused. Lifting his hand, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. "There is no reason for you to hide yourself from me, darling" he brought himself closer, his breath ghosting your face. You swallowed hard.

A grin stretched his lips, wicked and cruel, "I've seen the way you look at me, the way your eyes would linger a little too long on my lips" your own face visibly paled, "do you take me for a fool, ___? perhaps maybe you think I'm simply just not bright enough to notice the way you started to wear your dress a little shorter than usual, or the way you allowed your cleavage to show just an inch more... Tell me, ___ did you enjoy letting everyone else see what is so rightfully mine?" he hissed, eyes blazing with arousal and anger.

"I- no- Sir I never- wait.. what do you mean..?" his words had finally registered, "Oh you stupid girl..." he laughed, lifting a hand to his face, he covered his eyes. "You're so unbelievably dull and oblivious, it is truly amusing" he scoffed, voice laced with sarcasm. "Are my words not making sense? Must I explain to you better?" he glared at you.

His grip on your chin tightened, bringing you even closer to his face, you could practically feel his lips against yours. "If I see you making a whore of yourself again in front of anyone else but me, I will take it upon myself to show everyone in this damned mansion just who you belong to" he snarled.

Staring at him completely dumbfounded, you tried to comprehend his words. Was he jealous?

The man you feared most, who held you close to him with an invisible collar, the one who could kill you in a heartbeat, was jealous.

A sudden heat washed over your body, traveling down to your core, your breathing growing heavier. "I-i'm afraid I don't understand, sir... It sounds like you're wishing me to continue misbehaving" the sudden bout of courage that had drawn you to say such a thing was immediately smothered by the look Doflamingo gave you.

"It seems I really have been too lenient with you" he removed his hand from your chin, and placed his slender fingers around your neck. "Do you wish to have me tear you apart? To stuff you full and split you in half? I have been holding back for the sake of you, my dear, but you are making it difficult" he breathed, voice shaking with anger.

Feeling his fingers slowly tighten, you raised your hands and grabbed hold of his wrist. "Well? give me the word, ___, tell me you want me to ravage you, to corrupt you and steal that purity you hold so dearly" you fluttered your lashes, opening your mouth to speak, all that came out was a pitiful, choked whine.

Releasing your throat, he pushed you off of his lap, not at all caring that he nearly rendered you unconscious. "I expect to see you dried and in my room within fifteen minutes, do not make me wait" he peered down at you. Stepping out of the bath, he grabbed himself a towel before walking out.

Grabbing the side of the bath, you laid your head against the ground, breathing heavily. You could feel the bruises already beginning to form along your neck, and knew very well that they'd be too dark to cover up. Though, Doffy would probably end up placing more than you were willing to cover up after tonight was finished. Uncertainty and fear settled in the depths of your gut, was being with him really what you wanted?

The way he drew you in, showed you a new part of himself, then cast you aside had begun leaving you hungry for more. Wanting more of his attention, more of his love, regardless of how toxic that love may be. You were completely addicted with the fact that his power was tied around your neck like a noose, one wrong step and the chair below would be no more.

Water sloshed around you as you weakly pulled yourself out, sitting against the cold tile floor with a wet 'plap' you took steady breaths. Fifteen minutes was all he had given you, but you weren't sure how long you'd been sitting in the water. With a heavy sigh, you raised yourself from the ground.

Your head still felt terribly heavy, taking small steps towards the towel rack, you stripped out of your sopping wet night gown.

.........

Leaving the bathroom, you had taken a quick peek at your neck. A frown pulled at your lips, there was a clear as day imprint of Doffy's fingertips at each side of your neck, each one a deep purple outlines in a sickly yellow.

Grimacing, you could only imagine just how bad all the other ones were going to be.

Shutting off the lights, you exited and saw Doffy standing at the base of his bed, his towel still tied around his waist. He watched you with cold eyes, his arms crossed with annoyance. "You're a minute late" he spoke, sounding just as upset as he did when he left. "I apologize sir, I have no excuse" you bowed your head, keeping your eyes low.

He hummed, clearly displeased. Motioning with his hand for you to draw closer, you did so, willingly. Stepping up to him, you clutched your towel a little harder, fingers digging into the fabric. "Remove your towel" you swallowed, giving a curt nod you allowed your towel to drop. It fell to the floor, landing in crescent shape around your feet. You heard Doffy exhale loudly, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out and grab you.

His eyes ran over your nude form with a dark hunger, motioning for you to climb up onto the bed, you obeyed. "Lay on your back, keep your legs hanging off" he growled, standing still as he waited. A shaky breath left your lips, but nevertheless, you followed his order.

Getting into position, you felt nervous and shy having your body fully exposed, but the worry that he didn't like what he saw ate at you most. Watching as he got in between your legs, small shudders left your body feeling his hands rub against your skin. His fingers ghosted the inside of your thighs, prodding in between, closer and closer to your core.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, looking up at him with a lidded gaze, your breathing becoming heavy. His hands continued to travel upwards, feeling past your naval, up towards your breasts. His gaze was intense, watching every twitch of your body as he felt the soft skin against his rough hands.

Your eyes watched his face, the way his lips curved slightly upwards, the sudden urge to place your lips upon his became urgent. Despite the fact that he'd likely punish you for it, you placed your hands against his chest, dragging them upwards you lifted yourself and hooked them around his neck.

Raising your face to his, you looked him in the eyes. Though they flashed with annoyance, and a hint of surprise, he did nothing to stop you. Once again that feeling of uncertainty swirled through your body, you knew there was no going back after this. After you accept the beckoning call of a demon, you would be tied to them forever.

Swallowing, you casted away those thoughts and leaned forwards. Your lips connected with his, the feeling of them against you felt so right, yet so terribly wrong. But that no longer mattered, the contract was signed, and your fate was sealed.

A heavy pressure placed itself over your body, it took you a few moments to realize he had pushed you back against the bed, lips still on yours. A burning sensation spread throughout your veins, and a pleasurable throbbing struck your core. Was this what euphoria felt like? Confusion spiraled, and a pained cry left your lips. You could feel teeth sinking into your skin, marking you.

It was the mark of the beast, one could say.

Doflamingo could no longer help himself, feeling your soft lips against his own, he completely lost it. Pure raw want and need washed over him, controlling his every action. And soon, he found himself sinking his teeth into that delectable flesh that now belonged to him. His teeth left deep imprints, ruining the perfect, smooth feeling. Oh how he wished he could consume you, to take away all of your purity at once and leave you an empty husk of who you once were.

What were you doing to him?

He swore you were a witch, one sent to entice him to the point of starvation, to hand him a platter of meat and take it away at the last second. You were a meal waiting to be devoured by him, and him only. The scales in his head weighed heavy, tipping back and fourth as he fought with himself. No matter how much he wished to take it slow with you, to corrupt you over time, he knew he couldn't. That wasn't the kind of man he was, he was the kind to take what he wanted in a heartbeat, to not think twice.

But you... Oh you were making this beyond difficult, for once in his life he fought with the idea of taking a person swiftly. You were a delectable platter of food, meant for savoring and not scarfing down like some starved animal. He knew he had to savor each and every moment with you, to save mental images of each face you made while he fucked you into oblivion.

The scales tipped, and he had his answer.

Removing your arms from around his neck, you shivered, the stinging pain of his bitemarks throbbed all over your body. Doffy stood to his full height, wiping his chin from his own smeared saliva. His kept eye contact with you as he lowered himself, hands spreading apart your legs, you whined.

"Patience" Doffy growled, glaring at you, "or I will stop right now and send you back to your room" he lowered himself further, his breath ghosting against you. "Look at you" he breathed, "so wet and needy, all for me" you flinched, feeling his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, leaving yet another mark.

Wrapping his arms around your legs, he forcefully kept them open. "I want you to keep your eyes on me, if you close them or look away I will stop, that is your punishment for being late" he spoke. Before you had time to answer, you felt his tongue flat against you, sliding against your slick folds.

A gasp left your lips, followed by a deep groan. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt his fingers dig into your thighs as a warning. Focusing your gaze back onto him, you struggled to keep your eyes on his. His tongue lapped skillfully at your folds, probing your hole and circling

Pretty soon you're writhing and bucking against Doffy's tongue, your clit burning with such a desire, one you've never felt before. Doffy tightens his hold around your thighs, keeping you wide open for him as he brought you closer and closer to your first release. You bring a hand up to your mouth, biting into it, muffling the whimpers and moans.

Doffy removes his tongue from your clit, earning a deep whine from you that quickly turns into a surprised yelp as he bites into your thigh yet again. "I want to hear the noises you make" he glares at you, and begins his ministrations once again. A pitiful mewl is pulled from you lips as his tongue meets your clit again, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, you arch your back.

You're trembling at this point, muscles tense and abdomen coiled, you continue to moan out, eyes remaining on Doffy's face. Drool was falling from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin. You were so close, so so close to such a delicious feeling.

You were about to beg Doffy to do anything to allow you to finally cum, but when he locks his lips around your clit and sucks, you feel the tension in your body finally snap. With a jolting shudder, you finally release, juices coating his face as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The feeling of his tongue lapping up the aftermath of your release causes you to flinch and whine out, the overstimulation sending flares of painful pleasure up your body. "You did so good for me" Doffy smirked, standing to his full height. His lips and chin were glossed over from your slick, but he doesn't bother wiping it away. Instead, he leans over top of you, pushing his abdomen against your legs.

Your face ignites, feeling his cock press against the inside of one of your thighs, you can feel pre-cum leaking onto your skin. Placing a hand right next to your head, he slips the other underneath your scalp and pushes you upwards, slamming his lips against yours. A startled moan allows him to shove his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own release on his tongue.

Hands pushing against his chest, you whine, his grip on your scalp grows tighter, pulling at strands of your hair. You can feel him bucking his hips forwards, cock pressing against the soft flesh of your inner thighs as they become slick with his pre-cum. He's eager to finally fill you, to force his cock deep into the depths of your untouched virgin hole, and hear you scream his name.

Finally, he releases you, allowing your head to fall back onto the bed. Breathing heavily, you can feel your own slick coating your lips. Rough hands wrap around your legs and pull you forwards, feeling Doffy's cock press against your throbbing cunt, you look down.

A sudden sense of panic washes over you, feeling the size of him against you, how heavy he was, there was no way he'd fit. You look up at him with wide eyes, finding he's already staring down at you with a smirk, "don't worry, it'll fit, I'll make sure of it." You whimper, he leans forwards, placing his hands on both sides of you head.

Bucking his hips forwards, you inhaled sharply, feeling him grinding against your wet folds. "D-doffy" you whimper, "hm?" he smiles, "I thought you were afraid it wasn't going to fit? Are you that eager?" he chuckles. "N-no I was just... I was going to ask if we could change positions.." you looked away from him, biting the inside of your cheek.

"Oh? and what position do you presume we should do?" he hummed, bucking his hips forwards once again, a light groan sounding from his lips. Opening your mouth, you quickly closed it, you were unsure what position would even be possible given the drastic size difference.

With a sigh and roll of his eyes, he let go of your legs and motioned for you to move further up onto the bed. Obeying, you scooted farther back, closer to the headboard. "Lay on your side, and raise one of your legs" he crawled up onto the bed, laying behind you, he waited.

Getting into position, he scooted forwards, his chest against your back. "You're afraid I wont fit, so we'll just make you slick enough to fit" pumping himself a few times, he coated his shaft in his own pre-cum. You were confused about what he meant, until he positioned his cock right against your slick cunt and closed your legs around him.

Curling an arm around your abdomen, he kept you in place right against him before bucking his hips forwards. His cock rubbed against your slick cunt, the wetness of his own pre-cum and your juices coated your thighs. "Be grateful for my mercy, ___, if it wasn't for the fact that I like you I would've already had my way" he growled in your ear as he kept pumping his cock in between your thighs.

A whimper left your lips, "thank you, sir" you whispered, biting your lip as you felt his tip rub against your clit. "Don't be thanking me darling, I am only making it easier for myself" he groaned, hand tightening around your abdomen as he slowly began to lose his composure. Using his free hand, he slid it under your neck, curling it around and placing his hand under your chin. Pushing your head up, he forced you to look up at him while his thrusts slowly became more and more erratic.

Sweat was beginning to build on his brow, grabbing your hip, he groaned out. "Keep your legs closed" he shuddered against you, placing his forehead against your own. With a few more thrusts and a deep moan, he came in between your legs, coating your cunt with his cum. Squelching noises sounded as he kept going, trying to make sure you were fully covered.

Your face was a deep red, you hadn't expected him to use his own cum as a lubricant, just how many rounds was he going to have you endure? Though you couldn't lie to yourself, the feeling of his warm fluid against you caused the fire in your core to grow wild.

Panting, his breath fanned your face. Keeping himself in between your thighs, you remained still, not wanting to ruin his moment of afterglow. Though that was short lived, as you already felt him hardening again, cock throbbing against your cum covered cunt and thighs. Pulling himself out, he pulled away from you, and you already began to miss the feeling of his chest against your back.

"Hands and knees" he lolled his head, cracking his neck as he waited. "But it'll drip on the-" he cut you off with a glare, "I don't care, they can be changed" you gave him one last look before obeying. Getting onto your hands and knees, you shivered at the cold in between your legs, you could already feel some of it slowly dripping down your inner thighs.

Getting into position behind you, he ran his hand softly over your ass cheek, slowly trailing it up your spine, he pushed your torso down onto the bed. "Stay in this position, don't move" he muttered, leaning down. You flinched feeling his lips on your spine, "Doffy?" you called, feeling nervous "shhh, I wont hurt you" he said softly, the sudden change in his voice left a strange feeling in your gut.

Slick noises sounded as he slid his cock against your folds and clit, feeling his tip prod at your entrance pulled soft mewls from your lips. He was taking his time with you, deciding he'd be courteous enough to give you time to actually adjust to him and his size. Though without warning, he grabbed his cock and slowly pushed himself inside. You gasped, feeling him stretch you for the first time.

"D...doffy~" you whined, fingers digging into the mattress. "Taking me so well, darling" he praised, something that was a rarity. He hissed out as he managed to push in more than half his length, and when he finally bottomed out, he groaned. "Fuck" he snarled, "you feel so much better than I could have ever imagined" You were a moaning mess, drooling all over the bed as he throbbed inside of you.

Despite the fact that him stretching you hurt, the feeling of him inside of you felt divine. He was completely snug inside of you, hips pressed against yours, your eyes rolled the back of your head when he leaned forwards, placing his chest against your back. He had pushed himself even farther inside of you, hips rolling against yours.

Placing a kiss against your shoulder blade, he groaned against your skin, "I expect you to be as loud as you can" he smirked, "I'll be able to tell if you're holding back." Raising himself, he figured he'd given you plenty of time to adjust to his size. Grabbing your hips, he slowly pulled out, ignoring the way his cum from the previous round had slathered against his base, coating his pubic hair.

Noises and incoherent babbling left your lips as he started with a slow pace, pulling out completely before slowly pushing himself back in, you swore you could see stars. Doffy's name rolled off your tongue like a mantra when he thrusted against a particular spot, pleasure soared through your body.

Shoving your face into the mattress, your next snivels and moans were muffled. "Come on darling, don't muffle those noises of yours" he groans, trying to keep himself composed. His thrusts were slowly, gradually, becoming more rough by the second. His self restraint was slipping, and the need to roughly fuck you was bubbling up.

Doffy tsked when you ignored him, leaning forwards enough to tangle his fingers into your hair, he pulled your hair back. A pained cry left your lips, this time no longer muffled as he forced you to stay on your hands. "Stay on your hands, or we'll have a problem" he hissed, grabbing your hips, he gave you no warning as he started up a rough pace.

You almost fell back down onto your chest with how rough he was, body being rocked back and forth as he completely abused your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix. Your moaning and cries of pleasure grew louder and louder, to the point where everyone likely knew what was happening. Doffy's own moans grew louder, along with the growls that were ripped from his throat with every clench and flutter of your cunt around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it" he groaned, watching the way you took him with ease, "you look so good filled to the brim with my cock, darling" he purred, tilting his head back in pleasure, "how I hope I get to see this more often."

Turning your head, you peered back at him, eyes lidded, face flushed, and drool falling from the corners your lips. Your breathing was labored as he pumped into you, breasts bouncing forwards with each thrust. "D-doffy~!" you moaned out, voice completely laced over with lust. He swore he could feel himself grow much closer with the way you said his name, the absolute want and need in your facial expression was enough to nearly send him over the edge.

Though, despite being close himself, he continued to work you up to your next release, feeling the way your cunt was slowly tightening around him. "That's it" he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows, "cum for me, ___, I want to feel you" a drawn out moan is ripped from his throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and suddenly, you feel yourself cumming hard enough around him that your front completely gives out.

Doflamingo let out a string of curses as you clenched and fluttered around him, thrusting into you a few more times, he leaned forward, rutting into you as he spilled his hot release inside of you. You mewled against him, feeling him rock his hips against yours for a bit longer, trying to make sure he gets every last drop out.

He collapses against you, chest against your back as the both of you try to catch your breath. "Doffy?" you whimper, voice a bit scratchy. "Yes?" he hums, circling his arms around your chest. You flinch when you feel him mindlessly messing with your nipples, the feeling sending small shockwaves of pleasure through your body, despite being completely spent.

"You didn't.. have any protection did you?" you tried to look back at him, "no, I didn't, but that's okay" he kissed your shoulder blade, you hummed, not at all capable of thinking of what that might inquire.

"I'm going to go run a new bath for the both of us okay?" he spoke softly, "stay here, I'll get you a towel" you whimpered feeling him pull out. Your vision was slightly blurred, turning to watch him leave, you could've sworn you saw what looked like horns on his head.

How silly..

Closing your eyes, you slowly sunk down onto the bed, allowing sleep to overtake you.

If only you have stayed up long enough to see the wicked, obsessive smile on his face, or the way he spoke softly in your ear about how happy he was to have you be the mother of his children.

[ttshihiro]

pspspps.. totally not golden groovy woops

ANYWAYS HII!! heard u were open for requests. may i request tammy + qiu with and an artist reader :00

requests of my favorite fandoms are my catnip good gof woa who could this be‽‽ my reqs and my ask box are like always open btw >◡<

extra note/s: I refer to step 1 Qiu as he/him. Uhhh take this as platonic or romantic, I'll add an indicator for romance (𐙚) ^^

more under the cut > o

✧ At 10 years old, QIU's fascinated. How he discovers your interest and skill in arts varies but his reaction doesn't. He's impressed! Whether digital or traditional, Qiu would love to participate especially if you asked him yourself.

For this reason, he carries an extra pen and even those colored ones just in case you get bored or if you're suddenly struck by creativity when you two are playing :3

✧ The first time you show him one of your doodles you made during class, he's compelled to do the same whether or not you actually give him it. And ever since, you two've been exchanging these sketches during class. It's the cutest scene to walk into.

✧ URGH AND THE THINGS HE DOES WHEN YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ART BLOCK DEPENDING ON HOW AND WHAT YOU DRAW

You're into drawing sceneries? Trust that he starts telling you and Tamarack about more "special things" in the forest and/or the town.

Like the sky? There's this clearing a lot further into the forest at your backyards. Stargaze, watch the clouds and the sunset together?

✧ It's also necessary for me to mention that unlike his notes, lazily pressed against eachother and constantly on the run, anything you give him goes to a safe space probably in between a books pages, under the the matress of his bed or inside a drawer/container.

"They broke into my backyard accidentally, 'cause they were on a crazy investigation about a paper airplane. Plus, they got here a day ago and they're already looking out for me. Normally, I'm the one doing that."

"Besides, they're pretty. And they make me pretty. Look! Look how they drew me!"

✧ As for 10-year-old TAMARACK, she's curious. The things you draw, are they based on actual places? Actual people? Oh, you draw based on your imagination? Elaborate.

✧ At some point in the prologue, she says "All the forests in the world are different, and some places don't even have forests. I can show you good spots to find things since you're newer to this forest than me."

And I can't not think of her running up to you to give you all of what she gathered for you to draw like omfg

With all those leaves and tiny branches sticking out of her hair and sweater, she smiles brightly with her hands filled with her treasures. AUGH SHE MAKES ME SO SICK I LOVE HER

✧ Like Qiu, she has her own safe spot designated for only your drawings if you've given her any.

She shows off all of them. Especially if you've drawn her?? It'll be the only thing she talks about during literally any time for the rest of the month and the few months after.

"Out of all the friends I have here, you're the best one. We came to the same exact neighborhood, almost at the same time, and are he same age. You have fun outside and I do too."

"I think you're pretty. How you draw me is pretty! I've never met a kid who was just like me. That's important. That's serious."

✧ Now, 14-year-old QIU's pretty much no different. They're even more impressed when they see just how much you've improved. Nonetheless, they treasure your old drawings just as much as they do they new.

They take the liberty of providing you with both a pen and paper to draw on when you're together, in case you don't bring your sketchbook (if you own one).

On those days where you two just sit in silence in their hideout, their gaze drifts to your side quietly a few times to watch your progress. After a while, they settle with sitting right next to you and watching the stroke of your pen against the paper as the scene forms with each hatch.

✧ As a teen, they've actually been a tad bit farther off the town when they feel like taking a ride on their bike. They've seen many sights and burn the route into their brain for them to tell you about. They'd even be happy as to bring you there themselves.

✧ If you ask them to be your muse, good god you'd need to tell them what to do.

It's almost a funny sight. Qiu, the kid who knew what to do their whole life asks you, "Should I pose? Where do I look? Ah- what's my good side?"

𐙚 They can feel their breath hitch under your scrutiny. Suddenly, they're concious of every single thing about them. Where do their eyes go? Should they move their hands? Is their hair in the way?

They avert their gaze flusteredly, their head ever so slightly moving to the side when they do so.

And good god do their hands clutch the fabric of their pants when you tell them to look at you properly.

✧ Same goes for TAMARACK at 14. She's as intrugued as ever to hear about your work. She admires (you)r style from then till now and has learned to appreciate the time gone into things as simple as this, whether or not you've made it with her in mind. BUT GOD IF YOU TELL HER IT IS, it's always sitting on her desk and she thinks constantly about what you've done for her.

✧ And while she doesn't exactly bring you a pen, she's more than glad to hand you hers when you need it.

✧ Unlike before, she'd now be at your side when you two hung out at her backyard. She'd be sitting across from you, practicing the cello. The hum of her instrument accompanied by the sound of nature and the scratch of your pen against paper gives her a sense of calmness.

This may also be when she realizes she's been your muse! Her fingers trace over where your pen has been and boy appreciate isn't even enough for her to describe how she felt. It was definitely happy, but that wasn't the word either.

𐙚 Her heart pounds alarmingly as she admires your work. It's almost concerning to you that she sits silently with a blank expression as she held your sketchbook in her hands.

But that concern washes off you as soon as a warm smile curls the corners of her lips, tender adoration displayed all over her face.

[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[richea]

Inomata’s Design Notes & Memories - Destiny Cast

Some notes:

I’ve linked images of each thing she references below.

Unlike the first batch of Eternia characters I previously posted, these were in Japanese. And unlike the Destiny 2 ones I translated, she talks about her experiences with the characters in the game and not just her design processes!

The book in question is this one.

What I think about most when designing characters is their colors and the components to their look. The characters are displayed as such small sprites, so in order to be able to differentiate them from each other, I give each of them a specific color palette and unique accessories to each of their outfits.

Stahn’s thing was his scarf. I also made sure his shoulder pads, gloves, and boots looked huge.

Rutee is supposed to be a thief, so I made her look a bit like a ninja. I didn’t want her to look too girly, so I gave her shorts and exposed her navel. For colors I went with red and black, since that’s a distinctive palette. Whenever I’d do boss battles, she’d always be joyfully picking 2 gald off the ground instead of healing my very low HP characters (laughs). I thought about removing her from my party to prevent this, but then I’d feel bad, and it just made me think “this is all part of her plot” (laughs).

Philia is a priestess through and through. I went for white and green to give her an earthly feel (laughs). Her glasses and braids were a strong request from Namco. I came up with designs for her, but they didn’t have the glasses or braids, so they were repurposed for the priests in Straylize Temple. It was the basis for Philia’s design as well as Elraine’s in the sequel. Philia has her eye on Stahn, but he eats too much and he oversleeps. I feel like they’d work out better if Philia was more the assertive type herself (laughs).

Woodrow is an archetypical handsome man, so I didn’t have much to stress about when designing him. He’s a king, so I wished he had a stronger atmosphere behind him. I almost never used him when playing the game though (laughs). When you break into Dycroft, I thought, “it’d be really cool in a narrative sense to use him here, but he’s just so weak”. But you get special dialogue if you take him along, so I went “tsk” and brought him anyway. “Just stick to the backlines and don’t die” (laughs).

Leon’s really easy to draw, so again I didn’t have much to stress about when drawing him. He has a princely vibe to him, so I gave him white tights, but everyone was taken back by it! I thought, “is it that weird?” and ended up making them less tight fitting (laughs). He acts a bit snobbish, gets seasick easily and refuses to eat vegetables, so he really crosses off a lot on the “young master” list. He’s also really fun to use in battle (laughs). He has a really low defense stat but he hits fast, so it’s crucial that you string your combos together. When paired with Stahn, if you can isolate your bosses in the far side of the screen, they go down quite fast. Then I see the popup that Rutee’s picking gald off the floor again and I just use healing items on him (laughs).

I wanted to make Chelsea cute and small, so I based her image off of little birds. I gave her a palette of pink, green and blue, and made her hair look like a cockatoo or parrot. Her bloomers look like a paper lantern and I find them quite cute (laughs). Her life story makes me want to cry though. She’s fine and all in the first game, but in the sequel, she’s still wearing those bloomers from when she was a kid, living all alone on a snowy mountain. And if you go through her drawers, you can take something that Woodrow gave to her. I felt so bad, I thought “even though it’s so out of the way, I’ll go buy all the items you need!” (laughs). Then she makes all of these bows for you, but by then, I’d already enhanced my weapons a lot… But I felt so bad that I never Refined them and thought, “I’ll keep these on me forever” (laughs).

Johnny’s original idea was “troubadour,” but as the story progressed and I gave him his hat and all sorts of plumes, he came out a bit comical (laughs). He’s a really fun character to have in your party though, and I fell in love with him right away. I love that his tone-deafness does physical damage to the enemies (laughs).

With the Swordians, they have the will of humans and I wanted to incorporate that into their designs, but it didn’t seem to fit so I went for something more inorganic. Berselius alone has a creepy aura to him, and when Destiny 2 came around I thought “But his owner is such a nice person! Is it really okay for him to have such a creepy design?” but then I thought well, maybe Harold just likes things that way (laughs).

[violetsiren90]

The Lighthouse Keeper

~a What the Moon Saw drabble~

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends, angst

Summary: Life moves on. The moon blooms and wilts. The tide sinks away from the sands and returns with new waters. Yoongi stays.

Content warnings: PG rating, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; drinking and drunkenness (set in a cantina); cigarette smoking; Yoongi gets hit on; longing and pining; sad Yoongi 😔; some ogling of a female character by Hoseok; reference to the death of a minor character; allusions to domestic violence; allusions to semi-homelessness; allusions to casual sexual encounters; this is just pure angst, honestly.

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my WIP folder, and in the wee hours of the morning last week I sat in a hospital cafeteria with the shittiest cup of coffee I've ever tasted (that I was nonetheless grateful for) and finished it up. Poor, sweet Yoongi . These two are my comfort couple and coming back to them has a way of reminding me that "nobody knows how the story ends - live the day, do what you can."*

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

*"Nobody Knows", the Lumineers

"Alright, old buddy, what's got you down?" 

     A slim, dark-haired young man slid into the booth across from Yoongi. The older man's eyes softened slightly, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile as he regarded his companion over a swig of Pacifico.

     "Who says I'm down?" he asked in a mildly affronted tone, drawing a hand over his beer-slicked lips.

     The other man's mouth broke into a toothy smile, his lips pulling into a heart-shaped grin as he let out a boisterous peal of laughter.

     "You never call these days unless you are," he rejoined, grabbing a foggy acrylic standee from the center of the table and squinting at its small list of beverages. "Geez, they really don't have much of a selection here, do they?" 

     Yoongi snorted.

     "Since when are you an alcohol connoisseur? You don't even drink, Hoba."

     "I do too!"

     A waitress sidled up to their table and slid a food menu in front of Hoseok, who trailed wide eyes up her tattooed arm to her bright blue pixie cut with a thick swallow.

     "Our mango ahi tacos are on special tonight," she hummed with a wink.

     The young man's ears flushed a bright shade of crimson as he stammered something about passing on the food but wondering if they had any ciders. She pocketed her tongue in her cheek as she flicked her eyes to Yoongi.

     "You hungry?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow and tilting a hip clad in low-slung cargo pants and a studded belt in his direction. Yoongi looked up at her and shook his head, taking another sip of beer.

     "Hm, damn shame," she hummed, flicking her eyes over him a last time before sauntering back to the bar.

     Hoseok tracked her every move with a slack jaw, craning his neck to watch her slip through the kitchen door before turning his face - features, still frozen in lascivious astonishment - back to his friend.

     "Holy shit, hyung," he murmured, covering his mouth with both hands, "You could see her nipple piercings right through her shirt!"

     Yoongi grunted in assent, trailing a cloudy gaze over the table's waxy surface as he picked at the bottle's damp label.

     "You gonna get her number?"

     "What?" Yoongi shifted in his seat, eyes refocusing on his friend.

     Hoseok sighed.

     "Nope, you're not. How long's it been, hyung?"

     Yoongi glanced down at his beer again, then raised it to his lips and drained the bottle.

     Jung Hoseok had met Yoongi the summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school. He had attached himself instantly to the older boy, an unusual experience for Yoongi, who was used to people as sunny as Hoseok steering clear of his little storm cloud. He was one of the few friends from those days that Yoongi still called up, on occasion. One of the few who knew the context of his life - the sandy paths on which he'd come of age...what he'd found there, and what he'd lost.

    "Don't, Hoba," Yoongi murmured lowly, his voice suddenly thick in his throat. 

    Hoseok hummed, lips pulled into a thin line. The waitress returned with a hard cider, a Pacifico, and a plate of nachos they hadn't ordered. While Hoseok changed shades like a chameleon on a tomato and attempted to stammer his thanks, Yoongi cast his eyes out the window.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, the gulls pushing their yellow legs from weathered wooden perches to soar beyond the edge of the pier and into the little golden space between the fading light and sparkling waters. The sandy beach stretched around the edge of a rising rockface, dappled with lush green ice plant and yellow sea asters, a few miles to the north. Around the other side of the stony promontory was a place Yoongi knew well. The shore there drew inward and curved into another swell of land as the cliff rose; near its highest stretch an old wooden stairway weaving down its face.

     Tucked away to the side of those stairs was a ledge - a few meters wide and about as deep - that jutted out as the cliff sloped down to its base. It was smooth and fairly even, nearly level with the closest steps; a perfect little hideaway barely visible from above or below. Perfect for two children to sit, huddled against the rock, as they whispered their dreams and fears; for a boy and a girl to hold each other through nights that couldn't be spent at homes far less warm and gentle than each other's arms; for a young man and woman to give themselves to one another at last and too late.

    It was where Yoongi had sat utterly broken, on the last morning of a summer ten years past, his head tilted back against the stone as he wept up to the sky, praying to any god that would listen that you would run fast and run far - that you would finally spread full your beautiful wings...that you would forget him.

    But Yoongi never forgot you. Not one word that you spoke, not one touch of your gentle fingers or your soft lips.

     He had left the ledge that day, but he had carried you with him - down the beach and back into the horrid little shack where three nights later Yoongi's father hit him for the very last time. Yoongi had carried you with him to the doorstep, as he threw the man out into the dirt. Then he had carried you with him to every couch and car and dingy apartment that served as a night's shelter until he had saved up enough for a little place of his own; had carried you around with the tools and lumber as he spent long, hot days building the tiny workshop beside it. And he had carried you, on a some miserable nights, into the beds of strangers - who, through no fault of their own, could never ever compare.

    "My dad died," Yoongi said drawing his eyes away from the window. He said it with a quiet simplicity that he seemed to embody more and more with age.

    Hoseok looked up from the plate of nachos, mouth full. He looked as if he were sorry, but didn't want to say that. Instead he got up and slid onto Yoongi's bench of the booth, gently shoving the older man over to stay flush with his side. Yoongi wouldn't usually tolerate that sort of closeness, but with Hoseok it was different. Hoseok knew.

    "How's your mom?" he asked softly.

    Yoongi nodded.

    "She's okay. She's taking it better than me, actually. Already talking about leaving."

    "Are you going to?"

"What?"

    "Leave?"

    Hoseok's voice sounded hopeful. Yoongi's right hand slipped instinctively into his jacket pocket, slender fingers curling around a little whittling knife with a pink heart painted on its handle. 

    "I don't think so, Hoba."

    The younger man sighed through his nose. He was quiet for a long moment before turning to his friend.

    "I got an offer from a high school down south. VP. I start there in the fall."

    Yoongi raised his gaze, his small smile affectionate and his eyes soft. He wouldn't let the sadness reach them - he'd learned how to push it away.

    "They'll be lucky to have you," he murmured sincerely.

    Yoongi was used to people moving on. Everyone did...everyone but him. While the world turned, Yoongi stayed.

    "Someday, you need to leave, hyung,” Hoseok urged him quietly. “She's out there somewhere living her life. She'd want you to live yours too."

    At the mention of you, Yoongi felt his heart squeeze and ten years of carrying your memory well up and into his throat.

    Hoseok clapped a hand onto Yoongi's back, and raised the cider to his lips.

Hoseok knew, but he didn’t understand. No one ever really seemed to.

    As the cantina closed its door for the night, Yoongi ushered a stumbling Hoseok into the back of a cab. 

    "You're nah coming?" the younger man slurred as Yoongi stood and moved to shut the door. 

    He shook his head.

    "Gonna walk. Goodnight, Hoba," Yoongi gave his friend a little endeared crook of his mouth before closing the cab door and tapping the back of the car as it rolled away from the pier.

    Pulling a pack of Marlboros from his pocket, he watched the cab's red taillights fade into the evening blue. Yoongi lit a cigarette and turned to walk the path that wove along the edge of the cliffs. While he walked he wondered about you. He wondered if you were safe, if you smiled and laughed. He wondered if there was someone who made your eyes sparkle and your smile shy, someone with whom you could share your joys and sorrows. Yoongi wondered if you had found a home.

      The moon had risen to meet the stars when he reached the little stairway. He gingerly descended its rungs - neglected of repair and worn with their years - until he reached it, the little ledge in the moonlight. He stepped onto its smooth surface, the lower half of the rickety railing long fallen away, and sinking down he closed his eyes.

    The full bright moon washed over him, and for a moment, Yoongi felt it understood. It had seen, after all.

It had seen the boy and the girl and what they had become for each other. It had seen you give Yoongi a home, and it had watched him, in return, teach you to fly - to fly far away.

But Yoongi carried you with him. After all, you were his home, where else would he go? As the wind whipped up off the sea and swept around him, whispering of another summer's end, the moon watched Yoongi stay another season. And if it could have seen his heart, it would have watched him go to its little window, and, as the darkness fell, light a lamp to shine out across the sea.

The moon heard Yoongi pray that you'd never return.

…It saw him stay on the chance that you might.

-Fin-

[t0ast-ghost]

The last one… it’s been coming for awhile…

Here’s my thoughts on Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

(Spoilers for- well— everything)

- Before watching this movie I was trying to figure out why they chose this name and was told by my mom it’s a Shakespeare reference which.. I should have guessed

- “A Nicholas Myer Film” Cool! Now we know who to blame or bow to

- The music is so fucking intense I’m worried now

- I know Christopher Plummer is famous, I can’t place the face though and I want to say I know the name from the muppet show

- WAIT. Michael Dorn… WORF

- Wanna let y’all know that there was a guy (Harve Bennet) who wanted to create a completely different sixth movie that would’ve been more like a prequel where they recasted everyone to have an “academy era” movie with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy shenanigans. Gene Roddenberry didn’t fucking like that idea (cause only he knows how to cast apparently)

- explosion :)

- Teacup that tells you what ship you’re on. I now understand why everyone hates Quark trying to spread his own brand when Starfleet clearly is trying to push their own into every single crevasse

- HIII SULU HIIII

- It’s nice that they gave him the ship he kept saying he was hoping for in voyage home

- I won’t make a fart joke out of “gaseous planetary anomalies” and I definitely won’t say that Q did it

- DAMN NOT THE TEACUP. NBC Hannibal would fucking hate this movie

- Forgot how much I freaking love George Takei and I am so happy they gave him more stuff to do in this movie

- Falling… for about 7 seconds which is about 4 seconds more than normal

- Fairly certain that’s Janice Rand (5:32) (edit: it is! Hi Janice!!!)

- “We have no need for assistance,” and “Stay out of the neutral zone,” sounds like challenge

- Kirk says “What are we doing here?” STARRRING IN THE SIXTH STAR TREK MOVIEE BABEYYYY

- Scotty bought a boat, Uhura teaches seminars at the academy, I love hearing about their lives, keep going

- “Where’s Spock?” Asked in the saddest wettest voice. Kirk’s got his priorities straight. Er- well- not straight exactly but they’re there

- Them trying to hide that the “special envoy” is Spock when Kirk is sitting there looking at him like this

- Sorry babygirl not taking in any of that information. I am taking in those beautiful eyes tho <3

- Ooooh starting this one off with Kirk and Spock on opposite political sides

- Kirk being the one who has to offer the olive branch probably because Spock thought he could trust him to be on the side of peace (which was a miscalculation cause he’s probably still pretty angry with the whole “you Klingon bastards killed my son” thing…)

- “I remind you this meeting is classified” as everybody splits off into chattering gossip

- Kirk actually getting angry at Spock for “volunteering” them. The giant empty room with Kirk in the shadows and only Spock in the light (plus that random person standing in a dark corner for some reason) augh the mise en scène is wonderful

- I don’t even know how to unpack all that. Kirk so prejudiced against the Klingons (finally taking a more antagonistic stance) and saying “You should have trusted me” WHICH IS WHAT SPOCK HAS ALWAYS DONE. Because he trusted that Kirk would ultimately want peace no matter how battered and broken he became.

- They changed Spock’s ears, made the points more curved into themselves

- Why does every new lieutenant like quoting regulations to Kirk? How many does he just regularly break?

- OH FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY DOES HE LOOK OVER AT SPOCK SO SOFTLY

- I love how shape her hair is (draw it draw it draw it dammnit)

- Whenever creating a Star Trek movie you need someone on the production team who loves the ship departing from space dock scenes

- “I can never forgive them for the death of my boy.” Kirk says my boy

- Okay yes, Valeris should have knocked before entering his room but Kirk should also know to lock his door when he’s talking to his diary

- Why is Valeris so involved in this movie? First she’s talking to Kirk and now we’re following her to Spock’s? Strange (my guess. She’s evil.)

- “It is a reminder to me that all things end.” Like your life. Twice. Also that’s a nice sentiment and all but it’s so sad with the context that even his own original timeline ends

- “Logic is the beginning of wisdom, Valeris, not the end.” YEAHHH OLDER SPOCK he’s got a more balanced view on the world and himself

- OKAY I absolutely adore the costume design, especially for Gorkon. Like the golden clips in the hair? The red suit adorned with studs and the giant silver necklace?? The beard??? Amazing

- I like that there’s a “chief of staff” for the Klingons. It’s like the manager at a party city

- “They all look alike” BRO THEY MOST FUCKINGLY DO NOT

- I love the chief of staff being so confused over what the napkin roll thing is. I feel that.

- Ah yes my favourite meal. Blue. With a side of orange of course.

- “I offer a toast. The Undiscovered Country…” Welp. He said it. Time to wrap up the movie

- YEP ITS SHAKESPEARE BABEYYY (thank you Spock for saying that it’s Hamlet, act III, scene I, cause I didn’t wanna look it up)

- “You’ve not experienced Shakespeare until you have read him in the original Klingon.” Quoi???

- Spock actively trying to stop Kirk from starting a war

- I think this is such a good part where the Klingons are trying to state their worries. The gradual (or not so gradual) need for assimilation to be apart of starfleet. This is a particularly big problem for the Klingons because so much of their culture has been entwined with violence which Starfleet seems almost hellbent to take away. As well as hearing troubling language such as “human rights” thrown in their faces

- IM SORRY. Kirk. You didn’t. You didn’t just compare someone to hitler.

- Spock looks actually so fucking pissed at Kirk

- “If there is to be a brave new world, our generation is going to have the hardest time living in it.” Gorkon dropping all the good lines

- McCoy just standing there adjusting his outfit and looking like the most tired man alive

- “I’m going to sleep this off.” “I’m going to go find a pot of black coffee.” Both Kirk and McCoy leaving Spock :(((

- The shaky swoop of the camera as Kirk and the rest of the bridge realize that somehow they just fired on the Klingon vessel

- Don’t care about the rest of the movie I just love the scene where everything starts floating on the Klingon vessel

- AUGH THOSE SPACE SUITS OKAY I DO STILL CARE

- Love me some good ol’ bad 3D graphics blood

- Times like this I wish I’d never skipped my tlhIngan Hol classes

- Floating dead Klingons. What. A. Scene.

- Aw Fuck Dude. The one guy getting gravity back online and everything falling to the ground and blood splattering and AUGHHH. Every time I think this scene can’t get better, it does!

- HIII MCCOY!!! He got to rush onto the bridge just to ask “are we firing torpedoes” and I appreciate that :)

- Kirk and Spock fighting over who should go to the Klingon ship and Spock saying “perhaps you’re right” and then putting his hand on Kirk’s shoulder made me more nervous than it should have. Darn you Wrath of Khan! You’ve given me trust issues. (but you're telling me this isn't supposed to look like a nerve pinch???)

- Also Kirk ultimately still trying to maintain peace. It’s his knee jerk reaction to this. He’s got what he’s said he’s wanted when incased in his own emotions about loosing his son but he knows it’s not right

- and finally, yay! McCoy gets to go on the mission!

- The actor for the Klingon that greets them is so good at the rage mixing with grief and sadness

- McCoy to the rescue!!

- Either Klingon blood is pink (like in that one game) or they wanted to keep it pg-13

- “He’s gone into some kind of damned arrest!” McCoy proceeds to straddle the Klingon on top of the table so he has leverage to do proper CPR… I have no thoughts on this that I’d like to share

- I do not believe McCoy’s punches would be strong enough to restart a heart. I’m sorry but they look so puny

- The blood bubbling as Gorkon dies is so fucking good oh my heart

- This is all happening at 2:00 fucking AM??? No wonder Kirk is tired

- “I sympathize, Mr. Scott.” Love when they make Spock say he ‘understands’ or ‘sympathizes’

- SAREKKKK!! Hehe hiiii

- “We are experiencing technical malfunction. All backup systems inoperative.” “Excellent. I… I mean, too bad.” A banger scene from Uhura and Chekov

- Rosanna DeSoto as Azetbur (the Chancellor’s daughter) plays the part so well. Again their portrayal of grief and anger while trying to get to peace is so fucking amazing. LOOK AT HER FACE

- Maybe I’m not so happy about McCoy being on this mission after all…

- The giant circular judgement chamber is so fucking cool

- MICHAEL DORN 🫵

- The sparking gavel <3

- I love the beginning of a translator translating all the Klingon’s words

- WORF IS THEIR DEFENDANT???

- That one Klingon that laughs at McCoy’s joke, wanna be friends?

- “You say you are due for retirement. May I ask, do your hands shake?” “Objection!” “I was nervous!” “No. You were incompetent.” This is like watching reality tv for me. That’s some good drama

- phew thank goodness they’re not killing McCoy. He’s too pretty to die

- The back and forth slow zoom in on McCoy & Kirk and the judge didn’t have the intensity they were going for but I appreciate the effort

- “Better to kill them now and get it over with.” That’s nice Scotty

- Oh shit Spock loosing both of his husbands in one sentencing. That cannot be good for the economy

- “An ancestor of mine maintained that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains however improbable, must be the truth.” Ancestor? You mean fucking Arthur Conan Doyle?? Or Sherlock??? Either way that’s a hecking lore drop

- They’ve got a murder mystery aboard the Enterprise, this is my dream

- Hey babe, new Klingon dog beast just dropped (Jackal Mastiff)

- I let out an audible “aww” of pity when I saw McCoy wrapped up in a blanket

- I can’t believe I’m only halfway through this movie what is even happening anymore

- Had a brief pause to voice crackedly yell a little bit. Something along the lines of “I do not care. I do not care! I don’t care! I just want Spock- I just want them with Spock! I do not care!” And then let myself breathe for a second or two (and then made chicken nuggets). The outburst was born of a deep sadness from the fact that they can’t just be happy and retired together. Ok, back to the movie.

- Martia just handed Kirk a blunt change my mind

- “Somebody up there wants you out of the way.” of course, it can’t just be about actual politics between the Klingons and Federation, it has to actually be about Kirk and somebody trying to kill him. Dang it.

- “But the killers may still be among them.” …wait a damn minute.. you’re saying there’s imposters- *pulled away forcefully*

- I love how every commanding officer comes into the kitchen absolutely furious that someone fired a phaser

- On that note: why is there a kitchen? And why are they preparing various cooked birds? Who’s having a banquet tonight?

- What kind of bullshit evolution puts a species genitals in their knees?

- Hate how Kirk just lets McCoy go treat the highly dangerous being alone

- “Spock was right” NO SHIT HE’S LITERALLY AN ANCESTOR OF SHERLOCK

- YASSS SULU!!! Now get your rest you beautiful man

- Spock will literally leave no stone unturned for his husbands

- Either Martia has some really good prosthetics in the cave or she’s wearing someone else’s skin… NEVERMIND haha she’s just a shapeshifter

- Chekov was so proud of himself dammit. Too bad he was so utterly wrong

- Also Valeris is so expressive, kinda loving it

- The planet seems kinda nice in the daylight.. minus the dead body I’d say it’s pretty similar to winters in Canada (yes I made the joke, please delete it before posting) (edit: nope <3 just like Canada. Made your bed, lie in it)

- “Leave me. I’m finished.” Goddamn this man’s worst enemy is the cold. Both times McCoy just gives up and tells Spock or Kirk to leave him (First time being in All Our Yesterdays)

- “If they’re even looking for us.” Bones. Spock would literally NEVER leave the both of you. That aside the rest of the Enterprise crew also loves you like crazy

- Everyone laughing on the channel with the Klingons is so funny

- Holyy shit. Is Kirk going to fight.. himself???

- McCoy angel <3

- “I can’t believe I kissed you.” Yeah. Me neither. You didn’t actually have too.

- Poor McCoy holy cannoli oil. He’s knocked out and when he wakes up immediately gets trampled by two versions of his husband

- HIIII JACKAL MASTIFF HIII

- “Since you’re all going to die anyway, why not tell you.” When I go to watch the cinema sins video (I know I’m sorry) on this movie I bet they’ll say “klingonposition” or smt like that here

- If it’s just Chang that wants Kirk dead that’s so disappointing

- McCoy looks over and sees this

- “What you want is irrelevant, what you’ve chosen is at hand.” SPOCK IS ANGRYYYYY SPOCK IS PISSSED

- Please someone let McCoy take a shower, he stinks

- WAIT VALERIS WAS THE ONE SITTING IN THE DARK CORNER OF THE ROOM IN THE BEGINNING

- The distorted wavy angle that almost feels like it’s going side to side dutch angles with each of Spock’s footsteps as he nears Valeris

- I WOULD HAVE SCREAMED IN THEATRES

- Valeris is fucking crying omg what the actual fuck

- I honestly don’t know how to take that apart. I’m still shocked and screaming a little. The reactions from each crew member being just absolutely horrified

- I’m still reeling from that but I gotta acknowledge the fact that Spock says “I prefer it dark” when Kirk enters his quarters. So did I as a teenager and my mom would tell me it was bad for my eyes

- “You and the doctor might have been killed.” “The night is still young.” They are three months from retirement. Goddammnit let them just get to be retired together on a farm or condo or smt. I don’t give a shit just let them rest.

- “Spock, you want to know something? Everybody’s human.” NO THEYRE NOT IN THIS CONTEXT. That was kind of a big point made in this movie. I think the point you’re trying to make is ‘everyone in the whole galaxy forever will always make mistakes.’

- “Doctor, would you care to assist me in performing surgery on a torpedo?”

- Chang just said, “ah the games afoot” why are there so many Sherlock Holmes references in this one? Like I know they have a hard on for famous literature but this one is named after a Shakespeare quote. Just saying it’s a bit crowded.

- They really wanted McCoy to say smt doctory while making the torpedo so they chose “we’ve got a heart beat”

- I think it would’ve been better if Chang said to be or not to be in Klingon like they did at the dinner table

- So they saved the day? Yay? Kirk and McCoy should legally not actually be there- oh they’re all clapping for them who cares

- SPOCK GETS TO SAY GO TO HELL

- Kirk did not just fucking quote Peter Pan. Shut the fuck up.

- McCoy’s look says it all. And by that I mean just let him retire with his husbands. Oh my goodness.

- Just for my mom I'm mentioning the flared pants (Spock and McCoy look kinda goofy tho)

- Ohhh so this is where they change it from “where no man” to “where no one”

- And the Enterprise rides off into the sun. What kind of Grease ending is that?

Awwe okay all of their signatures at the end was a nice touch

I don’t have much more to say here, I forgot how fun but time consuming it was to do these thought posts. I really really appreciate everyone who likes these posts because it means y’all took the time to read this which is just something so meaningful to me.

Thank you all so much <3

Masterpost

[catastrophicdisasters]

alright i need to ramble abt TUA s4 somewhere that isn't at someone who doesn't care lmao

putting it under a see more bc a lot of it is based on stuff that's been said in the recent cast interviews and could definitely be considered spoilers

tl;dr: a theory post about who, if anyone, i think is going to die this season (and why, ranked by how narratively coherent i think their death would be, and how it would - or wouldn't - round off their character arc)

emphasis on the "i think", as obviously this is my opinion on what i think would make a satisfying narrative

so, in one of the interviews from today, Robert is asked how he feels about the "kind of sacrifice" at the end of the story, and his response is "yeah there's a kind of death that happens" and to then wax philosophical about physical death vs the kind of death that happens when the memory or the person is gone, and how there's a "kind of passing that happens"

and like, most people are convinced that someone's going to die by the end of the season, myself included, but i've just had another idea Robert really talked AROUND the word death, saying "a kind of death" and "a passing", and with him talking about that 'do you die when you physically die or when nobody alive can remember you' style thing, I'm thinking that maybe someone gets themselves erased from the timelines

so they still EXIST, as theyre not physically dead, but because nobody can remember them, it's still a kind of death (exactly like Robert said)

whether or not that person retains their memories is kind of irrelevant, though them keeping them does make for a more tragically satisfying arc - they gave up their existence to keep their family safe/save the world, and yet none of them will ever look at them with recognition or love again, and will never truly know just what they did for them. i think that could be done really well, as there's a special kind of beauty in a character who is happy to accept their own end in order to protect those they love (also, if i wanted to get super analytical of that, i could draw parallels between that idea and the trailer's choice of song - The End; the opening song of The Black Parade album, the funeral song that kicks off the narrative album with themes such as the life that comes after death-)

~

now, with that said, i want to go off about who my top choices for death/erasure actually are:

well, first i want to say who i don't think it's going to be, and that's Diego and Lila. and that is because they've set up this little family arc for them via Lila's pregnancy, and right from ep1 it was established that Diego was the most attached to Grace - his mother figure - highlighting the importance of the parental figure in his life. both of them have a strong sense of detachment and independence / not needing anyone else, while actually longing to be part of something, to have a family unit. so with the two of them now being married and having a child together, especially given what Ritu said in an article - that "they are not really communicating and are snapping at each other" - it sets up the perfect arc for them to find their place, together, and forging the family dynamic they both so clearly want.

I could talk more about them (i.e, Diego having multiple instances that make reference to his desire to prove himself to his father, vs Lila collapsing post s2 because she just wanted to know if The Handler - if her mother - ever really loved her), but that's not the point of this post

so working backwards from who i think is least likely (and why, obviously):

Viktor:

- originally i had a big question mark over Viktor, bc ive always kind of struggled to pick up the threads of his arc, but even then i still don't think that death/sacrifice would be narratively satisfying for him? is it possible that he sacrifices himself to save his family? i mean… i guess? he's always been more passive and less confrontational than the others, so even if the opportunity presented itself i feel like someone else would probably beat him to the punch

- BUT, that's still not actually the reason i think it won't be him - it's because i think a more satisfying ending for him would be for him to have everything he was denied in childhood. with him coming out, they've set themselves up really nicely to push an ending for Viktor that has him finding himself, understanding himself, and finally being happy with himself. whether he ends up keeping and accepting his powers or not makes no odds as long as HE makes that choice for himself! let him be surrounded by family/people who love him for who he is, let him choose to live for himself and be happy!

Allison:

- i have a similar problem with Allison that i have with Viktor, in that i don't really know where her arc is going, at least as far as the Hargreeves are concerned. Allison's been pretty clear that her priority is her daughter, getting back to her daughter, protecting her daughter. and now she has her back. and she even has Ray back!

- i've never reeeeally been a fan of redemption through death (though there are exceptions), so the thought of her being the one to die/sacrifice herself to save the rest of the Hargreeves just… doesn't sit right with me. particularly because i'm also fairly sure i read somewhere that Emmy said that Allison is kind of "done" with the Umbrella Academy family stuff, and that she's all about being a mother again, which brings me to my next point;

- Allison dying would actually have more of an emotional impact on Claire and Ray than it would to any of the Umbrellas. and, as nice as Ray is and I'm sure Claire will be, they are not the major characters in this show. they are not the ones we have spent three seasons connecting and sympathizing with. would her death still have impact? of course! but i think that there's too much to resolve (such as the events of s3, the fact that she already feels done with them all) to make her death be tragic and satisfying, and to still wrap up everyone else's arcs and the story as a whole

- her finding a way to accept and love her Umbrella family instead of constantly trying to distance herself from them, and learning to balance the family of herself, Ray, and Claire, with her family within the Umbrellas feels like it would be more satisfying for her than sacrificing herself to save the Umbrellas / the world

- could she still end up sacrificing herself to save Ray/Claire, and that in turn leads to someone else dying? yes, absolutely! or something happens to Claire and she no longers cares about living because she can't lose her daughter again? also yes, but that feels a bit... too dark, even for tua

Klaus:

- i feel a little controversial, putting him so far down the list (he's still placed fourth out of eight, though), but the thing is - with his powers back, he is functionally immortal. at that point, the only way he's dying is if he chooses to die. which could still lead to a satisfying end!! the boy who was scared of the ghosts he saw, who became scared of dying, becoming the man who chooses to die? very tasty potential, there. contrasts very nicely with the fact that he kept bringing himself back to life without even realising

- buuuut, that would conflict with what we've heard so far about Klaus's storyline this season; Klaus becoming a scared-of-everything germaphobe, having to learn "how not to be scared of life", falling back into addiction, and learning new aspects of his powers. i don't really see how all of that would lean into a storyline of him accepting death, ya know? it's a lot to do, with not a lot of time to do it well

- i will say, though, that i do love the idea of him somehow finding Dave in the afterlife, and that being part of helping him to accept death - that he can be reunited with the love of his life (this falls apart, however, when you realise that Dave's actor isn't currently credited for any episodes on imdb. still doesn't mean that he won't be, but... makes it less likely)

Luther:

- i genuinely debated with myself about who gets third slot between Luther and Five, but ultimately decided on Luther (which i'll further explain during Five's section)

- Luther literally has no purpose outside of the Umbrella Academy. in s1, he was defined by his being the only 'true' remaining member of the Academy, and having been sent to the moon for a seemingly pointless mission (and even though we now know that he was sent there to protect Abigail - she's alive now, so that doesn't really need revisting). s2 also had him at a loose end - he was fighting simply because that's all he thought he was good at, he tried to give his relationship with Allison another go once he realised she was alive, only for it to turn out that she's married, and then he was a (frankly, terrible) spotter for Five during the paradox psychosis fiasco. s3 literally had him get kidnapped by the Sparrows without anyone really noticing, and although he did eventual fall in love and gett married to Sloane, she vanished with the resetting of the universe. Sloane, incidentally, also doesn't have her actor listed on imdb as returning for s4

- he doesn't really have a multi-season arc to finish off; in fact, the only consistent facet of his personality is his desire to protect his family and 'do the right thing', whatever that might be

- i feel like for him, a good arc to send him on would be him becoming comfortable in his gorilla-body and maturing into the confident leader that would be expected of a "Number One". but, given the way his character has evolved (or devolved) through the series so far, i don't really see them doing that

- in fact, i think it's much more likely that they kill him simply because they don't know what else to do with him. which, ya know, kind of sucks

- HOWEVER, i do think there is good potential in having the first major leader-like decision that Luther makes - free from the influence of others - being to sacrifice himself to save his family. the one time he stands up and says "no, i've made my decision, and it's time for you all to respect that" while also tying it back to his overwhelming desire to love and protect his family? oh yeah, that'd be some good shit right there

Five:

- my god please just let the old man rest

- so, i think Five is less likely to flat out die than Luther is, but i do think some kind of timeline fuckery is much more likely where Five is concerned

- considering what Adian has already said about Five's arc this season

- "He doesn’t know what his place is in the universe. When he goes on this emotional arc with Lila, for the first time, he feels there is a reason for living." - i honestly think killing him would be an incredibly shitty thing to do. having him finally, finally, find his place in the universe, after getting stuck in the apocalypse at THIRTEEN, where he finds his entire family dead, proceeds to then spend 40 years alone, trying to get back to his family, before being picked up by the Temps, turned into a killer, finally getting back to his family, only to end up stuck back in his teenage body AND having to deal with three weeks of constant apocalypses, to then kill him???? jesus christ that would SUCK. like, i'm aware i have bias because Five is one of my favourites and i think his arc has some insane narrative potential, but i cannot be the only one thinking that if they kill him after all of that it's just going to leave a bitter taste?

- THAT SAID!! that said, i do think that it's likely that he would be the one that ends up getting erased from various timelines in order to save his family

- his whole thing has been about getting back to his family to save them from the apocalypse - to have him find his ultimate purpose being to do exactly that? it makes sense!

- in erasing himself from this timeline in order to save it, his purpose also then becomes founding the Temps Commission, with the intention of preserving the new main timeline that he literally 'died' to create and protect (and considering that they technically exist outside of the timeline, who is to say this isn't all part of Commission Founder Five's master plan anyway? hell, given that the Commission resides in the year 1955, he can go play guitar with Marty McFly and bitch about the perils of time travel while he's there)

- it would also solve the awkward elephant in the room; the fact that as of s4 he looks 18 but is actually in his 60s. he can erase himself from the main timeline, putting himself back into his old man body, and retire in peace knowing he's successfully saved his family and given them a future by also saving the world

- it's so deliciously tragic

Ben:

- oh god okay here we go

- i adore Ben and don't really want him to die, but i'd be lying if i said that his death wouldn't be incredibly satisfying, in the way only a true tragedy can be

- we all know this season is going to be focused on him and how he is going to be the one to cause the apocalypse this time, so it ending with him would make sense

- Blackman (the showrunner) has also said that he "wanted to come full circle with the family relationship". what is the FIRST thing we know about Ben? he's dead

- for the first two seasons, he haunts the narrative in a literal sense by being a ghost that only Klaus can see and so still sort of interacting with things, but considering we don't yet know what the Jennifer Incident is and how it actually affected the Umbrellas moving forwards, it could turn out that he has also been actually haunting the narrative - he's dead but so much has been driven by the nature of his death

- i also just really love the idea that the first thing we learn about Ben is that he's dead, and that also ends up being the last thing we learn about him

- taking it a step further, given that the Ben in the recap was definitely Sparrow Ben, it would be disgustingly, delightfully tragic for the final fate of Sparrow Ben to be the same as that of Umbrella Ben - that nothing any of them did actually mattered, because in the end, Ben was always going to die (can you tell i like a good tragedy)

- also, going far too deep into it (to the point that this isn't so much evidence that Ben is the most likely to die, but just a nice little tie in), parts of Ben's arc very much tie into the narrative of The Black Parade. you know, the MCR album that the song they used in the official trailer came from. The Black Parade, as an album, opens with a funeral song (just like the show opened with a funeral) and then continues to go over The Patient's life after death, the experiences from the afterlife, and even reflecting back on his life. quite fitting for Ben, in a way

- ANYWAY! Sparrow Ben also spent a good chunk of his time in s3 desperately wanting to be part of the Umbrellas, but having no idea how to go about it. the thought of him sharing the fate of Umbrella Ben and therefore becoming just like him, becoming Umbrella Ben? poetic

- there is also my sort-of half-theory, that the reason Ben is being overloaded with the Marigold is that he's actually somehow channeling both versions of Ben, so has twice the amount he should have, thereby destabilising him in some way, and one of the Bens needs to die. but, that doesn't really tie into Jennifer in any way, because that wouldn't have happened in the original/main timeline

- Ben is also the only character to have actually existed as multiple versions of himself in the two timelines - again, it is a perfect tragedy for him to die in both of them. maybe this time they save him from the Jennifer Incident, only for him to choose to sacrifice himself to save them all. ergo, it didn't matter, it didn't matter, he was always going to die

- i really like a well executed tragedy, okay? i also feel like it's one of the few satisfying ways to successfully kill off a character. still hurts like a bitch, but at least it was worth something

~

okay well, this got sufficiently away from me! kudos to you if you read the whole way through, and i do not blame you in the slightest if you skipped through lmao i also probably missed a few things, and maybe got a few things wrong so uh, whoops on that

tl;dr: probably won't die: Diego, Lila unlikely to die, but possible: Allison, Viktor wouldn't surprise me if they died: Klaus, Luther probably won't die, but might end up erased from the main timeline: Five most likely to die (and would be beautifully tragic): Ben

again again - purely my opinion!! and also what i'd like to see, based on what i personally feel can make a good narrative!

good luck for the 8th brellies <3

[that-ari-blogger]

A New Face (Separate Tides)

During its second season, The Owl House had hit its stride and wasn't slowing down. This is my favourite season, and that isn't an unpopular sentiment.

Separate Tides is the opening episode of this season, so it needs to recap the previous goings on and themes in a cohesive way for new viewers, and take the series in a different direction that stays loyal to those themes and plotlines. I think this episode does that well.

But this isn't a summary blog, this is a blog where I find something needlessly specific and gush about the implications of that something.

So... The Golden Guard is so ****ing cool.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (The Owl House, The Harry Potter Series)

I've mentioned in the past that The Owl House uses archetypal storytelling to a truly masterful degree. It takes tropes and meets them on a superficial level, then twists them in a way that adds depth and makes the series unique.

For example, the series is directly drawing inspiration from the works of Robert Galbraith, with Willow being the bullied kid with a passion for herbology, and Amity being the school bully who definitely has a crush on the main character. Both take the archetype and shake it up a bit, as is the way with parody, but the baseline is there.

This leans into the themes of being your own person rather nicely, as it makes the deviations from the archetype more important.

I took great pains to point out that Luz is the only character who doesn't fit the mould at all. She has no analogue and is her own person completely. She has nothing to restrict her.

However, leaves the analogue for the actual protagonist of Galbraith's books. Obviously, not every character from the series is parodied, but the chosen one main character seems like a weird one to miss out on.

I would argue that Mr Potter does have an analogue, Hunter Whittebane (Or Hunter Noceda or Hunter Demonne or even Hunter Clawthorn. Whichever name you prefer, its the same guy).

He is a child soldier, raised by his uncle and manipulated into giving his life away for the cause by an old wizard. He bears a scar on his face, and is technically half witch, half human.

Although we don't actually see any of that in Separate Tides. Instead, we are introduced to the Golden Guard, a character who is suave and cool and confident.

The first time we actually see this character is in the final scene of the previous season.

"Worry not, Kiki. We'll be keeping an eye on the inhabitants of the Owl House."

The Golden Guard is a goon, an elite goon, but a goon none the less. He is simply a character whom Belos turns to in order to get the job done.

But, I find the use of vernacular here interesting. Belos doesn't refer to the Golden Guard with any name, or even as a separate entity from himself. Not "he will be watching them" or "this is the Golden Guard, I trust him to get the job done". This character is referred to as "we". He and Belos are connected. This character is simply Belos' eye.

Then, in Separate Tides, it is established that, when Lilith fell from grace, she was replaced by the Golden Guard.

"He always got special treatment because he was the genius teen prodigy. But he's really just a brat."

So, this is a child, but a gifted child. Lilith is dismissive here, but not of the Golden Guard's skill, just his personality. This is someone for whom things come naturally, allegedly, and who has never had to work for his abilities. Allegedly.

"Unfortunately, you won't have the chance."

The Golden Guard's first line is just cool. He is calm and collected. He is in control. And he has just easily captured one of the protagonists.

I also love the little fact that he has spent the entirety of this voyage in a dimly lit room, eating crackers. The room has nothing to do in it except books. So, he was definitely just sitting there, reading, and had to improvise when King burst into the room. He's a bookworm with an ability to think on the spot.

I'm saying this guy would definitely play Pathfinder or D&D if he was given a chance.

Anyway, the Golden Guard's actual introduction comes fourteen minutes into the episode, and it immediately sets this guy up as a threat. He's martially competent, magically adept, and fully in his element. This is a character who revels in control, just like the Emperor.

And that link to Belos is interesting. Because forgive me for asking, why would an Emperor's elite goon be a child? As in, there has to be a connection to Belos beyond what meets the eye for the Golden Guard to be anywhere near where he is.

We don't get told that here, but we do see that this character's skillset is kinda similar to Belos', in theory. He's commanding, and he gets people to do what he wants. But in practice, this isn't Belos at all. This is someone trying very hard to be like Belos, but coming at it from a different angle.

I do, however, think that the Golden Guard's greatest strength as a goon is revealed subtly in this scene.

"The Emperor ordered me to slay one. I'm just following orders."

We've seen through Lilith in the previous season that Belos covets blind loyalty, and that is what the Golden Guard offers him. He doesn't know or care why the Emperor does what he does, he just follows orders.

Essentially, the Golden Guard is a traditional Disney villain at this point. He is fun, bisexual, charismatic, and a physical threat. The Golden Guard we get introduced to is enjoyable to watch, and it sounds like Zeno Robinson is having a blast voicing him.

However, there is one element of the Golden Guard that we get introduced to in this episode that might fly under the radar. The Owl House is no stranger to masks, and people putting on a show to get the job done, but when we are first shown the Golden Guard in this episode, he is taking it off.

The intro sequence of this season features three characters who are under Belos' command. Lilith, The Golden Guard, and Kikimora. It then unmasks them, with Lilith becoming apologetic, and Kikimora becoming more aggressive. But the Golden Guard sits between them, removing his own mask to reveal... a single purple eye.

The eye is the window to the soul, of course. But there is something to the manner in which this is happening. Kikimora has been angered to the point of lashing out, and Lilith has been brought low with remorse. The Golden Guard, however, is lowering his own mask and staring directly at you with an air of "I'm doing this of my own accord. I see you, you see me, your move."

I wonder if agency is going to be a theme with this character.

Final Thoughts

I love Hunter so much it is obscene, and there is a ton of ambiguity about him right from the bat. What is his stake in this? Who actually is he? And why does he have a purple eye?

As for the rest of this episode, Luz's guilt is starting to be expressed. In my opinion that is for the first time, but I have heard it said that this isn't a new character trait for her.

And Lilith... *sighs* There is a sentiment online as to the expedience of Lilith's redemption arc. Some people like it, others think she should have been "punished" more, and I would like to take a third rout.

I don't believe in punitive justice for fictional characters, and I certainly don't believe in telling writers how they should write. I do, however, think that it could have been slightly more interesting if the consequences of cursing Eda were explored more psychologically.

In any case, however, the series we got is the series we got, and I think it is perfectly fine, if not better, as it is. I don't see a point in getting angry online over what could have been.

Next week, I am looking as Escaping Expulsion and boy, do I have thoughts about Odalia Blight. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[normal-internet-user]

Same thing (I don't know if the last one said 'x reader' or '& reader', but the difference is platonic versus romantic, as an fyi)

Rottmnt & female!reader where Y/N has the sort of big-sis presence April has, but she basically adopts everyone she meets, and her thing is to give them nicknames that relate to something they do or reminds her of them (and she gets mad if anyone else uses them). Torts kinda short-circuit the first time she refers to them by the given nicknames, and she doesn't even realize (but when she does, she kinda blows it off)

~Can be Raph x reader also because he would absolutely melt at a s/o as protective over his brothers as he is~

This is definitely not because I often see Raph angst and think "Nooo bubby it's ok!"

Or Donnie is Tinker. Cuz he likes tinkering

Mickey is also bubby but also lil'Mike

Leo is Baby Blue

Don't bully me this is my head it controls me I don't control it

~🌺👸

This is INCREDIBLE Anon! Don't worry, I'm working on your other asks, but this one CALLED to me! (I did make it romantic with Raph, because he is my favorite boy 😌.)

RISE BOYS WITH A BIG-SIS READER.

Leo:

Leo adores you.

He loves spending time with you,

And it's kinda a competition between him and Donnie to see who can keep your attention.

Raph is winning by default though.

Leo loves that even though you're like a big sister,

You nowhere near as over bearing as Raph.

But he knows you still worry,

So he trys to tone it down a bit.

He gets so genuinly happy when you laugh at his jokes.

Like he will literally, hug you everytime you laugh.

Without fail it makes his day.

As for his nickname,

He's totally not a supporter.

At least that's what he tells everyone.

"Hey, Baby Blue, help me with these boxes, will ya?"

*Dramatic sigh*

Leo goes to you for advice on things he doesn't want the others to know.

Like if he's nervous about how they'll react to something,

He'll go to you.

Because you don't judge.

You just listen, and once he's done talking,

You'll tell him what you think, and how to go about the situation.

Leo loves you, and the second you stepped into their lives, he dubbed you, "Big Sis (Name)."

Donnie:

Donnie likes having you around.

At first he was kinda apprehensive,

But the minute you took on the role of older sister, his vision kinda changed.

He enjoys spending as much time with you as possible.

Mostly because of how good you are at listening.

Never, not once, have you ever interrupted his rambling, or explainations.

You just sit there, and wait untill he's done to ask questions.

And he loves that.

That's another reason why you're the first to see a newly finished project.

Because every single time, you wait for him to stop talking,

Then you tell him how cool it is, and how proud you are, and ask questions about it.

Ngl,

The first time this happened, he teared up.

But don't worry, they were happy tears.

As for his nickname,

He is not a fan,

He will scoff everytime.

"There you are Tinkerbell! I thought I lost ya."

"Scoff!"

You didn't think I meant an actual scoff did you?

Lol.

You have to try and keep Donnie from doing stupid stuff to test his inventions.

And if you aren't there to prevent the stupidity,

You're always there to bandage him up, and scold him.

But he doesn't mind, he knows it's just because you care.

Mikey:

Mikey absolutly loves you.

Whenever you come to visit,

He'll stop whatever he's doing to give you a hug.

Doesn't matter what it is he's doing,

You will get that hug.

His favorite thing is drawing you pictures.

You have so many, you can barely see your wallpaper anymore.

But who cares?

You probably have the best decorated room in all of New York thanks to those drawings.

Mikey LOVES his nickname.

It makes him feel special.

"Where's my Little Dumpling!"

"That's me! I'm her Little Dumpling!"

Mikey does his best to impress you,

He just wants to make you proud.

So he likes to show off when your around,

And it scares the crap out of you.

Just make sure you don't turn your back for to long,

Because he will accidentally hurt himself.

You have pretty much taken on the role of mother around Mikey.

Raph:

The second, Raph met you he was whipped.

Poor boy short circuted for like a full 5 minutes.

He loves how much you care for his brothers like their your own family.

He thinks it's amazing that someone else can love them like he does.

If they ever stress him out,

He'll talk to you about it because he knows you can relate.

The two of you are pretty much parents to three extremely chaotic children.

Raph loves that you give everyone nicknames,

He thinks it's cute.

He loves his nickname,

And he gives you one of your own.

"Big Red! come help me look for my backpack, I lost it!"

"Sure thing Cutie Pie!"

Raph invites you over as often as possible.

Movie nights,

Just some regular old quality time,

Anything he can do to have you over.

He just loves spending time with you.

You two are always trying keep the younger ones from accidentaly killing themselves.

And it is not an easy feat.

But hey,

You two are trying your best.

.........................................

There you go Anon! I hope I wrote this to your liking. It's kinda rushed, but I personally love it.

[queer-ragnelle]

i’m new to arthuriana but love your posts nonetheless

i am just curious about the many references to gawain sleeping with so many people when, to my understanding, in sir gawain and the green knight he specifically breaks this promiscuous behaviour and makes sure he doesn’t sleep with the wife of the duke

(i apologize if this is a stupid question!)

hello anon!

welcome to arthuriana and thank you so much for the kind words. this is not a stupid question at all! the truth is gawain is nothing if not inconsistent between texts haha. he's different from other knights such as lancelot who pines solely for guinevere across text after text, in that it seems every author wanted to create their own special gal for gawain. he therefore has numerous women attached to him, and when readers try to reconcile those many texts into a single story thread, it gives the impression our mans gawain gets around! (and he does!) i have several examples here to illustrate this so i'll put it below a cut.

for all the textual variance, sir gawain and the green knight is the exception that proves the rule—meaning that it's perhaps the only text in which gawain is abstinent. we know this because one of the five virtues attributed to the five points of his pentacle crest on his shield is chastity.

furthermore, on the wife's second seduction attempt, gawain pleas his own inexperience with "love" (ie: women).

whether or not that's true is up for debate, but it's worth mentioning, as it's a departure from other texts where his virile prowess is well-known, and in the knight of the two swords, he openly boasts about his own attractiveness and popularity. (humble guy, that gawain!)

there are several examples of gawain's reputation with the ladies preceding him and actually benefitting his odds of getting laid. one of my favorites is from lancelot part II in the vulgate. gawain had just cured his brother agravaine of an illness and agravaine's amie basically wingwoman's her sister.

goated of her. so gawain pencils it in on his calendar. later, he locates the castle, sneaks in, and succeeds in bedding the maiden. she's not named here, although malory later refers to her as "the lady of lys," and accredits her as the mother of gawain's three sons, (although the couple never formally wed).

among the strangest of examples is the middle english text the carle of carlisle, in which the carle brings gawain to the bedchamber and orders him to make out with his wife. but things quickly heat up...

so the carle stops gawain from outright cuckholding him, then leads gawain to his daughter's chambers, gives them his blessing, and locks them inside. at the end of the text, gawain marries her.

now i would be remiss not to mention my beloved the wedding of sir gawain and dame ragnelle. i think it's notable that ragnelle specifically asks for gawain by name, much like the lady of lys did (according to her sister and her warm reception of him).

now the conclusion of this poem brings us to another theme of gawain's which ties into his many partners, and that is his consistent subservience to ladies. he breaks the curse on ragnelle by granting her "sovereignty" in the relationship. this seems to be another aspect of character which sets gawain apart from other knights, as this is not a chaste expression of courtly love, but a precursor to fornication, and draws the attention of strong-willed ladies, such as ragnelle, with whom he is "a coward," or according to the translation notes, "submissive."

then again in roman van walewein, he's already famous by the time he meets his ladylove, ysabele, and whilst tied up in her father's prison, he leaves the decision of his own life in her hands.

which then results in their coming together because this is a gawain story and he always gets the girl.

even in the post vulgate, which we can all agree portrays every single character at their absolute worst (and is therefore invalid<3), gawain's choice of words consistently upholds the lady's desires above his own. at first, gawain intended wingman for pelleas by pretending he, pelleas, was dead to begrieve arcade. he discovers instead that she's elated by pelleas's supposed passing, so she and gawain fall in love. but even after admitting his feelings, he still takes great pains to frame the final crossing of that line as her choice, and only relents when she makes her intentions plain.

he might also just like it when women boss him around if his treatment from orgeluse in parzival by wolfram von eschenbach is any indication.

similarly to the knight of two swords, in parzival, gawain is aware of his fame, fosters it, and then employs his orgeluse brain worms as a motivation for sparing lives instead of like...morality.

i think what's particularly interesting about gawain's relationship history is that many of his partners are named, whereas it's pretty common for damsels and maidens in medieval texts to exist without identities of their own. there are so, so many named, interesting, fully developed women linked to gawain, it's actually pretty awesome! here are a few more:

lunette in yvain: knight of the lion by chrétien de troyes...

amurfina in the crown by heinrich von dem türlin...

bloiesine in the 4th perceval continuation by gerbert de montreuil...

marjorie in gawain and marjorie by oscar fay adams (if we extend our search through the 20th century!)...

and on and on forever! so in conclusion, gawain has been pulling bitches for many hundreds of slutty, slutty years, and from what modern retellings i've read, authors have no intention of interrupting this trend. i hope that helps clear things up somewhat. thanks for the ask!

[littlemisspascal]

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know. 

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself. 

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here. 

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front. 

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame. 

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums. 

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either. 

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame. 

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers. 

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms. 

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other. 

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

“Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way. 

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms? 

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code. 

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.” 

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes. 

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams. 

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there. 

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go. 

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it. 

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie? 

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible. 

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art  seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways. 

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu. 

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love. 

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. 

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610 

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same. 

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here. 

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself. 

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie. 

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it. 

So you swallow the question down and bury it. 

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000 

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him. 

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too. 

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine. 

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community. 

“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy. 

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots. 

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you. 

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point. 

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

[angelica-arcia]

I actually had these on hand I just needed to grab them.

We have Angel and Angel’s crackship kids Ruka and Ruki.

Not stated on their references:

Angel is a jeweler, specializing in quinque steel jewelry. Someone has to make it after all. Those products are exclusively for the ghoul customers. She does work with regular metals but finds it to be a bit boring.

For the time that the twins exist Angel was not the best parent, they tend to be rather monotone and aloof when expressing regular emotions. It made it difficult to show proper affection to the twins. The twins were never mistreated, they had constant food, guidance and a home. But neither Angel or Uta necessarily gave good advice or guidance.

Let’s be real Yomo was the one giving real parental guidance here.

Ruki works at anteiku, he tends to prefer to get his food this way. Although if times are hard his sister will give him food.

The twins have a strange relationship with either parent. Ruka dislikes them to some degree because she struggles to adapt to human society, having inherited her parent’s inability to hide her kakugan. She also thinks they’re both insane and wonders how she and her brother turned out to be relatively good. Ruki loves his family but he’s also well aware that they’re a bit wild. He tends to wish his parents were more outwardly affectionate.

Do:

-angst

-ship Angel (I generally do so with Uta)

-gore and blood is fine so long as it’s tagged

-change their outfits or hair styles

- draw them with canon characters

Don’t:

-ship the twins

-nsfw of the twins

Ofc this is my entry into @tokyoghoulartfight2024

[feathersandfarmers]

Kip Tweedy headcanons (Or facts, since she's my character??)

(even if no one asked) (For those who don't know, Kip is my Chicken Run OC. She's a human character, but is an ally to the chickens! She can talk to animals, which is a special power only she has!.. In the events of the first movie, Kip would be around 10! For the sequel, she'd be 16!)

-She is related to Melisha Tweedy, but she has Willard Tweedy's last name because the Tweedys adopted her. They are Kipper's legal parents, but she'll still refer to them as her aunt and uncle.

-Kip loves rainy weather! She enjoys taking calming nature walks in the rain because the air smells so fresh.

-Kip is quite multi-talented. She's always been good at arts and crafts, for example! However, she learned her cooking skills from her Aunt Melisha! Melisha (obviously) wouldn't ever really "play" with her young niece. Instead, Melisha would teach Kip skills and that is how they'd mainly bond with one another.

-Kip also learned a lot of "handyman" skills from her Uncle Willard. Yes, Kip loves learning about tools and repairs. When she was little, she'd "help" Willard by passing him hand tools as he would fix something that had broken (that is how she learned what all the tools were called!). As she got older, Mr.Tweedy taught Kip how to use tools safely and efficiently. She's quite good at it. When she reaches high school, she's the only girl to sign up for any woodworking class and is better than most of the boys! (Bonus info: Mrs Tweedy was always nervous about Kip getting hurt, and Willard being too stupid to protect Kip properly, so she was never a fan of her niece messing around with power tools...until she became good at them and could fix things around the house!)

-Her first friends on the farm (when she first moved in with the Tweedys) were Nick and Fetcher! The rats were raiding the house for food and junk, and Kip would always catch glimpses of them from the corner of her eye...maybe she'd leave out snacks for them to take?? (I haven't come up with all the details yet) But I'm imagining Kipper sneaking downstairs at night and chilling in front of the fridge with the rats as they have a late-night snack together in secret. They'd introduce themselves, and become acquainted. A few days later, the rats would thank Kip for the food with a small toy they found on their journeys!

-Kip is scared of needles! She has a hard time handling medical stuff in general

-Her best friend, however, is Ginger! She gets along well with Babs and Mac too. Bunty wasn't a fan of Kip at first because Kip is human and the hen distrusts her. Eventually, Bunty grows fond of Kip when she sees examples of Kip's goodness.

-Kipper is Molly's favorite aunt (Auntie Kip!) and will be overcome with joy whenever she comes over for a visit. When Kip stays for a few weeks, Molly will want to spend each night over with her auntie and her cool tent. The two will listen to music together, eat candies and chips, and maybe even draw pictures together!

-Kip's favorite food are french fries!

(Adding an old drawing of Kip for reference! hehe)

[evilyn-is-gay]

Anyone want some cute/funny ass headcanons in my TSAMS Reality (reality shifting)?

Cuz here you go

Dazzle:

- I play with them and Jack, we’re like a legion of chaotic children (I keep them in check)

- We sometimes snuggle

- They taught me how to do a turnsie!

- They like pets (like on their head)

- They love it when I draw them (we have little drawing sessions, they have a really charming chibi style that a child would use)

- Sometimes steals my Therian tail and runs around with it

- I keep all the drawings they give me

Sun:

- Pansexual but is so fucking oblivious (EXAMPLE: Sun: Oh he has a neat design. Moon: … why are your fans whirring louder- Sun: What do you mean? Moon: It’s obvious you’re attra- Sun: Dramatic gasp and the whirring gets louder as his face heats up WHAAT??? NOOOO)

- Sits in the closet in his room to be covered in plushies when he needs to calm down

- Big squishy and plushie collection (Lets everyone borrow)

Moon:

- Aro/ace but MIGHT like men a little

- Bro listens to music to cope (me too bro 😔)

- Hyper fixated on science (and has since he discovered it while conjoined with Sun in the first year)

- Has a huge collection of fidget toys

- Sometimes he’s trying to explain something but he says it in his head or just says gibberish thinking we understand

- Has fictional ‘crushes’ but it’s just like ‘yo he’s hot I think’ and Sun goes ‘… what’

- Whenever he’s mad he walks into his room (or any room with a pillow/blanket) and screams into it and just comes back out like nothing happened (If he didn’t he would actually explode and start to stim aggressively) (EDIT: I love that this is canon now)

- Did actually enjoy having a tail as a furry but would never say it aloud

- Listens to that one song that used to play for intros to sleep

- His pupils get bigger when he’s excited like a cat (same with the opposite)

Lunar:

- His hyperfixation on bean bags is fading away and he desperately needs a new one (I want to get him to read fanfic)

- His hyperfixations over time are: Bean bags, plushies, LOL dolls, Trolls, Stars, Astrology, creepy pasta, cooking, art, phobias, Baldi’s basics, slime, and ASMR

- Listens to ASMR videos as he charges

- Forgets that not everyone is an animatronic sometimes and says things to kids that don’t make sense

- Will infodump about the weirdest shit (Last night i dreamed i was a bottle of ketchup ass shit)

- Steals my clothes and wears them around the house when he washes his (he just wears my sweaters and those donut pants I have)

- Even when he isn’t washing his clothes he sometimes wears my huge purple sweater thing

- His favorite types of ASMR are wood soups, slimes, and ones that ask questions like an interview

Earth:

- When in distress she floofs up her hair too much and it sticks out weird

- Has HUGE plushies she snuggles

- Has a habit of sticking her face into things that look soft

- loves stardew valley, Animal Crossing, and those Roblox games that are really aesthetically pleasing

- Mental disorders are her special interest/hyper fixation and she spouts it to me

- Her Roblox character is stunning and looks beautiful, she worked on it for a while

- Plays along with ASMR Roleplays

- Tingle immune 😔

- Talks to a Monty plushie when she’s upset, another coping mechanism she picked up

Solar:

- Doesn’t understand some pop culture references due to being isolated by his Moon

- Finds this universe Monty as a significant upgrade to his

- Draws himself as a human

- Amazing at art like holy shit (style is sorta like all the thumbnail artists mixed together)

- Has Aphantasia (BECAUSE I DO AND I NEED REP)

- This has happened → Moon: Hey Solar, have you seen Candice? | Solar: … Who’s Candice..? | Sun: MOON NO. | Moon: CANDICE DI- (Solar slapped him in the face afterwards)

Bloodmoon:

- has been high (I will not elaborate)

Castor:

- “Lunar, what’s a ‘skibidi rizz’?” *COMPLETELY DEADPAN AND MONOTONE*

There’s other characters but these are fun/cute ones 😭😭😭

I know these aren’t canon (a lot of the stuff in general in these aren’t canon and have been debunked) but I don’t care and they’re still part of this so fuck you