#the sheer amount of SHIT this guy has seen

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

hello. it’s me. just over here being MESMERIZED by this face.

[mavnagerie]

haunted

* why deny yourself the finer things in life like a good nap and some good pussy.

roronoa zoro x reader

summary: in mihawks castle, resides another girl aside from perona. spending her days in his library, writing and reading until she passes out just to do it all over again. this is until zoro comes along, finding himself in her presence in his free time

warnings: smut. porn with plot (too much plot) elven!afab!reader. nerdy girl x gruff guy. pnv, unprotected sex (guys cmon), cunnilingus, finger fucking, throat fucking all of the above. pet names/praise (princess and good girl). cumming inside…cum cum cum. multiple orgasms. ZOROS A FREAK! very slight dub con if you SQUINT.

authors note: requests are open

roronoa zoro never really found himself with free time when he was training. eye scar n all, he chose to overwork himself until he passed out. until he was bandaged up. until he felt like all of his joints would give way if he didn’t just stop. his free time lied in those long sleeps he’d take after being ripped open, forced to heal before he could continue fighting.

although, when his training was stunted by these deep cuts and wounds he would wander.

wandering the castle while unable to train was like walking through a maze, and he always did it to clear his head until he’d realize he was lost once again…yet coming across the extensive library proved to be like finding treasure at the end of a map.

zoros calloused hands gripped the knob of the door, peaking his head in, seeing dim candles light the giant room, a tower filled with books covered walls and glass stained windows, all surrounding a floor of stacked books and tables to study at.

while someone stood up against a wall, looking for a book, he has yet to see them. walking in, not addressing anyone to see if he was alone or not. his foots slid across the ground, impressed by the sheer amounts of colorfully bound books covering the walls. although, he was even more impressed at the idea that migawk had collected all of these in his lifetime.

Zoro believed there was this saying that noble swordsman must live by, and that was to indulge yourself in the things that make you happy. at least in healthy doses. happiness provides a clear mind, and a clear mind creates a great swordsman…

zoro was pondering as he walked, thinking of what had been said to him while he found himself staring up into the tower, staring at the peak it formed into from below. he barely made any noise but as he grazed his leg past a pile of books, one fell, clattering onto the ground.

“shit..” he whispers. he has still yet to see the person who calls out from the ledge that circles these walls

“hello?!” a voice calls down, causing zoro to jump, looking up at the walls scanning for a person. finally he sees you, as you’re standing there, your hands placed gently on the railing as you stare down at him, your hair falling around your face.

“hello?” he says, curious to see you here although he’s never seen you before.

“you must be zoro!!” you call from the ledge, smiling down at him, bringing your hand up to wave at him. “perona told me someone had been staying here.. but i haven’t been down since you got here..” a smile formed across your rosy cheeks. “give me a second”

zoro was stunned, not really knowing what to say as you made your way down the stairs, watching as your features became more clear to him. he was mostly shocked that there had been another person in the castle without him even knowing. but he really didn’t enjoy reading, nor was he amazing at reading books and fully comprehending them like nami or robin. he noticed your pointed ears almost immediately, long but covered mostly by your hair, earrings dangling from them.

as you approached him, with a soft smile on your face, you dipped to the ground in order to grab the book at his feet. “this is a book i’ve been studying recently, sorry it’s in your way..”

“oh no you’re.. you’re fine.” he cracked a smile, watching as you put the book onto the table next to him. standing up straight, you look him in the eyes, craning your head back just a bit to see him.

“oh wow you really do have green hair.” a soft laugh leaving you as you held your hand out. “im y/n… i live up here .. well i don’t live up in the library. i live in a room down the hall, but i spend most time up here… sorry im rambling. i get excited when i meet new people because i mostly spend my time with mihawk and perona.”

he took your hand, shaking it gently, watching as his hand engulfed yours. “i’m zoro.” he spoke sternly. “uh what do you do up here?” he said, letting your hand go, watching as it fell back to your side… then around your back… then to your hair.

“i write books for mihawk for him to read, at least that’s what i mostly do. im a writer, i write stories based off real events, i write about mihawk adventures, i write about all sorts of stuff but i just write.” he nods, thinking about how your work could possibly help him once he hears that you write for mihawk.

“does that mean his stories are in this library?” he asked, leaning back against the table, watching as you began to move around. cleaning up so he wasn’t in your clutter.

“yes actually! all of his books are on this lower level. some are small and some are big. i’ve written about his battle with you, actually.” a smile snuck on your face as you turned to him, watching as he flushed with a little embarrassment. “that was one of my favorites, you definitely are a brave swordsman.”

“do you think i could read some of them some time? i want to understand his fighting style a lot more or.. better i guess.” he said, turning around to see you across the room, putting books back and pulling more out.

“yes of course! why else would i write so much if it weren’t for people to read?” your smile grew as he asked the question, knowing you never wanted anything more for someone aside from perona and mihawk to read your writings.

you came back over to zoro, books up to your chin, all about mihawks fights, including the one about zoro himself.

“these are a few of them, they’re genuinely just biographies about his entire life. i’ve been writing for him for a long time now… some are wordy, some aren’t.” you shrugged as you sat them down, encouraging him to come closer. “um… i don’t mind if you take them back to your room but please do be kind to my books, i do work hard on them.”

he shot a gentle smile at you. “yes maam.” he grabbed one. in all of this excitement of meeting a new person, you didn’t really get a good look at him until now, but now mellowing out, you see his eye scar along with the muscles that protrude from his milky colored bandages that cover his torso and arms.

“um.. whenever you need a break… you should come up here.. it’s always quiet..” your mouth goes dry a little as you speak, suddenly gawking at him… at how gorgeous he simply is.

“i’ll remember that.” he smiles at you, his charming manner kicking your ass, feeling your stomach flip. “hopefully i won’t get lost on the way here next time.”

no way you’re actually attracted to this guy you’ve met maybe 15 minutes ago. but you hope that he’ll make his way back in the next few days, just to observe him again.

zoro smiled at you before leaving, you watched the scar across his chest wrinkle in his skin as he turned away. gently shutting the door behind him, your face turned pink, the tips of your ears feeling hot.

——————

sitting at one of the tables, writing, you can hear mihawks voice from down the hallway, speaking to himself as he approaches the library. gentle knocks sound on the door as you’re already standing to go meet him.

“hello mihawk!” you say as you lean against the door, opening it.

“hi, y/n… i have your dinner. i heard you met zoro today?” he said, handing you the plate of food. he or perona tend to bring you food rather than you all eating together. you were always busy in your own world and that’s why mihawk kept you around.

“i did! i gave him a few books to read… about you.. if that’s okay.”

“yes it is. he can afford to learn a thing or two from a different perspective.” a small smile cracked on his face, rare occurrence from the tall vampirish man.

“good!” you beamed when turning to leave. “is that all?” you said, pushing your face over your shoulder to see him again. he nodded, grabbing the handle to the door in order to shut it.

“have a good night y/n. come down once in a while, you don’t wanna become sick from being up here all alone.” he spoke as the door shut, hearing a thud and a click before you sat your food down, sitting down with it to eat.

as you ate the meal, you pondered zoro. you wondered what he did while he was here besides fighting. besides wondering how he can get better. but once you think about what he does… you think about him… his muscles and his hair, his face and his eye. his three earrings the brush up against his skin when he emotes with his hands. his scars are enamoring.

—————————

after that day, sleeping soundly in your bed at the idea of him, you didn’t see him for days. even wandering the halls outside of your library, you don’t see him. right now something aside from writing has peaked your interest and that’s the man that borrowed three books from you that he should bring back any time soon now buy just hasn’t.

“maybe he just doesn’t read fast.” you mumbled to yourself as you walk back up to the library, opening the door to see a tall man looking at the wall of books through the corridor of the library.

“zoro!” a smile formed across your face as a pep was pushed into your step while you walked, although wondering how he possibly slipped past you while you explored for him.

he slowly turned his head, seeing you, your hair put up while a dress flowed past your knees. it was dark, shifting between black and red depending on where it hugged your body. he got distracted, watching your hips maybe a little too long before he had realized you were walking right up to him.

as he fully turned around, a smile forms on his face. “hi, sorry it took me so long to come back up here. perona told me i could fight again so i did that and read my books before i slept.” his hand flew up to rub the back of his neck, showing off the muscle in his bicep as he did so, leaving your cheeks pink.

“it’s okay.. as long as they were brought back in one piece” your voice was cheery

“i left the books on the table over there. i wasn’t sure where they went and i knew you’d rather do it yourself then see me put it in the wrong place.”

you turned around, walking over to the table, observing the books. picking one up , you flipped through the pages making sure nothing had been ripped. staring at them, you suddenly felt a frame against your back, his body heat radiating off of him.

“i … uh..” his voice trailed off, not wanting to piss you off for messing up your book.. “one of the pages got ripped. just in the corner but it was just something that happened.” he watched as you picked up the book. reaching over your shoulder, his bicep pressing against your neck as you involuntarily shifted closer to him, pointing to the book. “this one.” he spoke softly.

“it’s okay” you whisper, opening the book to see the small tear in the middle. “oh this is an easy fix” you say turning to look up at him, a reassuring smile on your face. a smile forms on his face as well, realizing you wouldn’t be upset with him. your body was close to his, your face meeting his chest observing the golden chain around his neck. tilting your head back to look up at him, his cheeks tinted a soft shade of pink while he quickly realizes he needs to step away.

pulling his arm from your shoulder, he takes a swift step back. “do you want to see how i fix them?” you ask as you walk towards a table with materials skewed across it.

“i don’t care too much, but ill watch you do it just to see you..” he spoke just low enough for you to hear, watching the tips of your ears burn a little, trying to mask your reaction on your face with a small smile.

you tried to ignore the burning on your face as you stood over the table, opening the book, working at the rip to fix it. he leaned against the wall, across from you, watching you as your gentle hands cared for the book like it was sentient.

“you seem to care about these books a lot..” he spoke, watching as your fingertips pressed down on the tear as it was fused back together,

“i do. i spend a lot of time making them” he watched as your lips curled into a smile, thinking about how much you cared about what you do for mihawk. finishing up, you turn to zoro “do you want some more books about mihawk? or are you booked out.” tilting your head slightly, he watched you expose the soft skin of your neck unknowing to the thoughts that filled his head as he watched you.

“you can give me a few more.”

you nodded him into the direction of the case, walking over to it while he stood behind you, watching how light your steps were, how your dress held your legs while you walked.

he didn’t really know what had overcome him, but the fact that this beautiful woman had been in this castle the entire time he had been here and he didn’t know, was almost sickening to him. hes not a womanizer by any means but a man has his needs and knowing how much you stay up here alone, a woman does too. ‘i wonder if her and mihawk-‘ hes snapped out of his thoughts by your voice.

picking out a few more books, his thoughts had become more consuming, simply staring at your lips , your eyes, your chest while you spoke…he had to leave or he just couldn’t bare it anymore. where were these thoughts just a week ago.

———

exchanging a few works as zoro left, he pondered how on earth he could find an excuse to see you again, just to see your face, your hair, your body, whatever dress you’d wear… god why was he so whipped over you after only seeing you twice. making his way to his room, he soon let exhaustion fall over him as he fell into his bed, falling asleep.

zoro slept for what felt like hours until peronas voice crept into his ear, whispering about dinner until he shook awake, pushing her away. “PERONA.” he griped, sitting up, holding his head.

she giggled as she handed him two plates. “here! take one up to y/n” she smiled, knowing he had finally found out about her presence by her lack of being able to find him earlier in the day, knowing he must have found the library. his cheeks were a soft pink, perona pretended to not notice as she floated out of the room, leaving him to his own devices.

zoro had pulled on a clean shirt, weird behavior for him, before taking the food up the stairs and down the hallway. gently knocking on the door before entering, you had expected to see mihawk behind the door but was almost overjoyed to see zoro with two plates… was he going to eat with you?

when he had left earlier in the afternoon you sat there in the library, almost bringing yourself to tears as you giggled over him. no man had you giggle like that since you were a young teenager in your hometown and even then, nothing compared to watching his big hands hold your books or the way he reached his arm over your shoulder in order to point to the page. and that gold chain? or the way his arms flexed when you had scared him… or just the way he looked. his eye scar? oh my god you can’t even keep a straight train of thought.

“i hope you don’t mind me eating with you, perona urged me to” he kicked the door shut with his foot, walking up to the table you had been sitting at.

“no not at all! let me clean up the table” you smiled brightly at him, grabbing piles of papers and books, sitting them down on the ground and putting them in different piles, clearing off the table enough for you to eat, as the dim candles and moon light lit the room from above. you cleaned off a chair and allowed him to sit across from you. he sat a plate down in front of your seat, meeting you at his chair. “mihawks cooking is nothing like an old friend of mine, sanjis, but it certainly is good” he shrugged. “but i’m sure you knew that, you’ve been here longer than i have” a nervous laughter filled him, trying to ignore how close he was to you until you went to go sit back down.

“who’s this sanji guy?” you question as you sit down, bringing your knees into your chair, almost like mihawk had taught you nothing in regards to table manners.

“well uh.. i was a pirate but we were all sent to different places to train.. he was our cook.” he forked his food.

“oh that’s right! you’re apart of the straw hats. your captain is monkey d luffy” your eyes lit up thinking about the stories mihawk had told you about them.

“yeah! i’m assuming mihawk had told you about us?”

“yeah but not because you were coming here, it was from when he had fought you guys a year or so ago.. i heard you were only a small crew back then. i assume it’s grown?”

“a lot, i miss my friends but i care more about training right now. i promised to my captain that id become the strongest for him.” you watched the soft smile on his face grow, thinking about his memories with his friends. the two of you sat in silence for a bit while you both ate, gentle hums of joy filled the room. although mihawks food wasn’t the best zoros ever had, it was almost the best you had had. you hated when perona cooked because mihawks was just better.

the two of you had finished eating and your plates were stacked on the table, after eating you continued to talk, sitting on the couch in the nook of the library, in a similar area to where your repair table had been. sitting at opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, telling each other of your lives prior to living in the castle. he was all ears listening to your life, wanting to know where you came from and if everyone else had ears like yours.

over time the two of you grew closer together, both of you standing up occasionally and sitting down closer to the other. getting up to grab books and sitting back down to show him, until your thighs pressed against each others, your body flushed against his as his arm wrapped around your shoulder again, pointing to something in an old book.

you could smell him, assuming mihawk made him shower more regularly than he would on a boat, he smelled nice. over time you pressed your body even more so into his, feeling comfortable against his warm skin. his hand was draped over your chest, brushing against your breast as you both spoke. you tried to ignore it as you brought your knees to your chest, pressing your thighs together.

the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife, leaving you hopeless in order to escape the emotions you had felt seeing him earlier that day.

“zoro..” you spoke softly as you turned to look up at him. he had a fierce look on his face, obviously holding back when he peered down at you. “do you-“

your words were cut off as his hand held your cheek pulling you in, pressing his lips against yours. it almost felt like a movie as your eyes fluttered shut, accepting his kiss, letting the book in your hands fall to the ground. slowly, he pulled away, his eyes meeting yours as you opened yours again.

“do i what?” he mumbled.

“nevermind.” boldly, you grabbed his face again, pulling him into another kiss. turning your body more towards him. his hand feel from your chest down to your side, pulling you in. his strong hand capturing your waist.

two small kisses turned into longer sloppier kisses, his strong hands pulling you into his lap. the skirt of your dress riding up your legs onto your thighs as your legs sat on either side of his hips. his hands found the dip in your dresses back, his hands caressing the skin of your lower back. you could feel the callouses on his palms, rough against you as he pulled you in, pushing your hips up against his.

your arms were wrapped around his neck, your hands twirling his hair in your fingers. his soft hair felt so nice in your fingers and you could hear a soft moan leave his lips as you tugged at it every so often.

slowly, his lips moved down your to your neck, placing kisses across your skin before gently biting down on a place near the side of your neck so you could cover it with your hair, sucking your skin between his teeth. he moaned at the taste of your perfume. pulling away, he soothed the ache against your skin with his tongue before moving around your neck again.

“zoro…” his name fell from your lips as he urged your hips into his, using his pinkies to press into the dips of your ass. he pulled away, looking down at you, your face flushed while your hips ground up against his impatiently. soon you felt his hands grope your ass before picking you up. “put your legs around my waste” he spoke as you locked your feet behind his back, holding onto his neck while he stood. he carried you over to one of the tables, sitting you down on the edge. leaning down over you, he pulled you into a kiss again, his hands coming up to the straps of your dress.

“is this okay?” he mumbles sweetly. a soft sound of assurance leaves you as he pulls the straps of your dress down, exposing your bare breasts, nipples pebbling under the cold air of the room. he guided your arms out from under the straps, letting your dress fall past your belly. “can you lay back baby?” he spoke against your lips, his calloused hands rubbing down your back, guiding you to lay down, his other hand gently holding your thigh as your legs wrapped around his waist.

laying you down, his lips moved from yours slowly down to your chest, kissing along your skin until he met your breast. kissing one of your breasts, taking the other into his hand. taking your nipple into his mouth, he gently sucked on it before soothing the ache with his tongue. he pulled your body close to his, his thigh rubbing against your cunt below the skirt of your dress. glancing up at you, watching as your head tilted back, a soft moan leaving your lips. he pinched your other nipple with his free hand before switching spots until he was satisfied with the moans pouring from your lips.

he kissed down your stomach, gently biting at your soft skin, eliciting soft whimpers from you. “z-zoro…” your voice was weak but he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

“what’s wrong?” he says, his chin resting on your stomach.

“can you pull my dress up from my hips, not down? i don’t want it to get messed up.” he noticed your cheeks were pink, he thought you were just so cute.

“yes maam..” he smiled. “is it okay if i take it all the way off?” he watched as you nod, pushing you up onto the table just a little more with his thigh, causing a moan to leave your lips. a smirk flashing across his face before he finds the hem of your dress, pulling it up. you sat up just a little in order for him to pull it over your arms. “good girl.” he smiles as he neglects the dress to the floor.

He looked down at you as if you were his prey and he were about to tear you apart, being deprived for so many years of good pussy. he not only needed to fuck someone, but from the second he saw you, he yearned for it to be you. your panties were lacy and cute, making him want to cherish them longer. he observed the damp spot near your core, bringing his hands down to your thighs, pressing his thumb against your covered pussy, unwarranted causing you to buck your hips up into his hand with a choked moan.

“sorry, maybe got a bit excited” he pulled his hand away, causing you to whine even more but this time in frustration.

“its okay. just please touch me, do what you want with me… please” his eyes met yours, watching as you pleaded for him.

“you don’t need to beg, baby.” he smiled, leaning over you to kiss you again, his thumb finding your clit above the fabric of your panties. “you just need to say the word and i’ll give you whatever you want..” his tongue pressed against your lips, urging for entry to your mouth as he teased your cunt. he pushed your panties aside, rubbing his fingers through your folds, searching your body to know what makes you tick. finding your clit with his mouth against yours he captures your moans. you could feel your pussy throbbing for him, soothed by the feeling of his thumb rubbing your clit at a pleasant pace. his fingers found your hole, teasing entry before slowly pushing one of his fingers in. he pulled his lips away so he could hear the sweetness of your voice, looking down at you as you unfolded on his fingers.

slowly he began to push his fingers into you, over time growing more anxious and pushing in a second. your back arched off the table, feeling as he scissored his fingers inside of you, his thumb rubbing greedily over your clit. he watched as you got closer, listening to how his name fell off of your lips.

“zoro… fuck i’m so close..” you whined, your hands reaching up to find his free arm. you gripped his bicep before he found your hand with his, holding it gently, squeezing it as you came close to your orgasm.

“come on baby, cum on my fingers.. that’s right” he soothes you with his voice, bringing you over the edge, your vision going blurry as he fucks his fingers into you through your orgasm, slowing down as your moans quiet. “good girl” his voice was low as he pulls your fingers out, bringing them to his lips, licking them clean before leaning over you to kiss you again, tasting yourself on his tongue. “you taste so good” he mumbled, feeling his cock throb in his pants.

zoro stood up straight again, standing over you, as he pulled his shirt off, discarding it like the dress he pulled off of you. he looked down at your messy panties, he found his fingers in the band of them, pulling them off of your wet cunt. you were watching him as he did work on you, watching the curves of his scar and how they dipped into the crevices of his abdomen, wanting to lick up the entirety of his stomach to his chest just to feel that scar.

“your pussy is so wet” he mumbled as he stared down at it, his thumb pulling your lips apart, watching as it throbs for him. “i’m gonna eat you out” he says blankly before getting on his knees, not even giving you much of an option before his nose is pressed against your clit, causing your head to fall back against the table, feeling his greedy tongue between your lips. your hand flew to your mouth as he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit, his tongue pressed flat against it before lapping at it like a thirsty dog.

his name fell from your lips, your voice growing louder as the hand over your mouth muffled the noise. zoro pulled away “don’t do that” he said looking up at you, he brought his arm up in an attempt to grab your elbow. “i wanna hear you.” with his hand reaching out, you put your hand in his. he guided your hand to his hair, encouraging you to pull his hair rather than covering your sweet moans. “good girl”

he pressed his face back up against your cunt, still sensitive from your last orgasm, you were struggling to keep your hips against the table while he licked at your clit, his fingers teasing your hole. your fingers tightened in his mint green hair causing him to moan against your pussy, the vibrations sending you into a frenzy. all he did was give and give.

zoro moved back down to your hole, his tongue teasing you before pushing in, tasting you entirely. his hand pressed against your abdomen, his thumb placed perfectly on your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it, baring down when he wanted you to pull his hair again. he wanted to chant his praises, calling you his good girl and telling you what a perfect princess you were but he was drunk off the taste of your pussy, fucking his tongue into your dripping cunt.

you were chasing another orgasm, he could feel it in the way you tensed up, as your moans grew louder and your grip on his hair turned harder. “oh my god.. zoro. fuck zoro i’m gonna…” your words trailed off, struggling to form a decent sentence while he fucked his tongue into you. he looked up to you the best he could, watching as you unfolded against his tongue, shaking as you came again. loud curses leaving your lips while your juices flooded his tongue. he continued to eat you out, throwing you over the edge, continuing while your thighs pressed against his head, urging him to stop overstimulating you. tears formed in your eyes until he stopped. pressing a soft kiss against your clit and pulling your legs off of his head, he stood up again, leaning over you to kiss you once more.

“was that good?” he asked, finding your hand and intertwining your fingers.

“yeah it was so good” you sighed, with a love drunk smile, staring up at him. you could feel his hard on as he leaned against your leg.

“come here, we’re gonna go back over to the couch. i’m sure you’re tired of this hard ass table.” he pulled you by the arm and you sat up, his hand finding the dip of your ass, pulling you into his arms, carrying you over to the couch to flop you right down on it. he was still wearing his darned pants but being right down in front of his crotch, you could see that he was almost painfully hard.. and painfully big in his pants.

you sat up, your hand finding his hardon, rubbing him through his pants causing a short moan to leave his lips, almost like it was unexpected. “whatcha doing there princess?” he asks, watching as you palmed at his hardon, your eyes meeting his.

“not much..” you smiled up at him almost innocently. he threw his head back, another groan leaving him. you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. your thighs rubbed together as you stirred the pleasure that brewed in his lower abdomen. “can you please take your pants off for me..” you asked, watching as he looked down at you, he was almost a little speechless as he nodded. you had been so submissive that he enjoyed you taking the reigns even if it was just for a second. he loved being of service, but it’s nice to have your dick sucked once in a while.

as he pulled off his pants, his boxers came with it, standing in front of you. his cheeks were red watching as you were stunned. it was tan with a curve to it, thick with perfect veins along the side.. god why were you observing his cock like it was a masterpiece in a museum?? you noticed how his minty green hair trailed from his belly to the base of his cock. “damn” you mumbled before your hand found the tip of his cock, gently rubbing the head before your thumb presses against the very tip, causing him let out an almost guttural groan. “fuck princess..” he grumbled while you rubbed his pre cum around the tip, and down the base with your soft fingers. your lips were suddenly against the tip, kissing it before your tongue teased him, leaving him almost helpless while he stood in front of you. you kitten licked the tip before taking it into your mouth, not going very far but just enough to elicit those sweet moans from his lips.

you pulled off of his cock with a slight pop, before you had gone down and licked the entire bottom side of his cock, from the base to the tip, causing him to shake a little before you spit in your hand, allowing it to slide down his cock perfectly while you took the tip back between your soft lips. he couldn’t handle all the teasing tho, he was becoming just a little sexually frustrated as you tore him apart with your ministrations. “god.. please stop teasing baby..” he spoke between those deep groans and moans that were music to your ears. your pussy was drenched again by this point while you took him deeper into your mouth, allowing your hand to handle what you couldn’t.

his moans fell from his lips, loud and uneven, while his hand found your hair, intertwining his fingers with your soft locks. “yes baby..” he whined as he tugged at your hair, causing you to moan around his cock. “fuck i can’t take this anymore.” he whines, using his hand to push your head further down on his cock. you didn’t protest, you just put your free hand against his bare hip, using it as a method to telling him to stop when it became too much.

while it was nice to be a tease, being fucked by him is just ten times better. he began to fuck his cock into your mouth, pushing into your throat, being obnoxiously intrusive. you moaned loudly around his cock while he pulled your hair into his fist. your other hand found his hip as well, holding onto him while he let go, his moans pouring from his mouth. “fuck baby fuck fuck fuck..” he cursed, knowing he’d cum soon.

“tell me baby.. on your chest or in your mouth..” he said as he pulled you off his cock, allowing you to briefly catch your breath, tears in your eyes. through heavy pants you struggle to speak clearly

“mouth” you look up at him, all fucked out, and he feels his dick twitch seeing you like this. you watch as it jolts up a little, feeling your mouth water for the want of his cock again. he used his hand to pull your lips apart, pressing his thumb against your tongue before pushing his cock back into your mouth, his hand intertwining with your hair again. he lets out a moan as his cock fills your mouth, slowly thrusting into your face until he loses himself, fucking your throat, chanting your name until your nose is pushed up again the base of his cock, his cum pouring down your throat. your name falls from his lips, loud and proud as he pumps his cum into you, slowly letting you go, easing himself out of you so you could breathe again.

“i’m sorry..” he pants, looking down at you, he holds your chin, wiping away the spit that rolled down the sides of your mouth. “god you’re so cute” he watches as your lips curl up into a smile, enjoying the praise. he wipes your tears away and finally gets down to your level, kissing you again. it was soft and kind, gentle even. something so brash against the brutal throat fucking that had just happened.

“you think you can take anymore?” he asked, looking down at your body, a sheen of sweat coating both of you . he watched as the gentle light of the room shone off of you, your hair a mess, tangled in your jewelry that decorated your body.

“yeah i think so” you smile, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for another kiss.

“good…” he smiles against your lips, putting his palms against your back, slowly laying you back down on the couch. “i need to fuck this pussy so bad” he whines, kissing down your neck, his hands feeling up your breasts to your legs. he finds his way back to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on them , tweaking the other with his free hand. you were getting deja vu from earlier but this time he was even more confident with his ministrations. your sensitivity causing you to moan even louder until he switched spots. he sucked on your nipples until he was satisfied, knowing you were wet and throbbing down below once again. his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it as he pulled away from your chest, feeling his cock throbbing between his thick thighs. pre cum drips from his tip as he stares at his thumb rubbing over your pussy, he feels like he’s almost drooling. he notices you getting antsy, shaking against his hand, whining in desperation.

“zoro…” you whine his name, pushing your head back.

“what baby? what do you want. tell me, please” he says, stroking his cock with his free hand.

“fuck me zoro, please?” your remember what he says, not begging but rather asking kindly for him to fuck you.

“that’s a good girl..” his smile was devilish as he got closer, pushing his cock up against your pussy, pushing his length through your wet folds, teasing you. your moans are desperate as he rolls his hips against your. getting his cock wet, your pussy being enough lube for him to easily stretch you out.

he guided his tip between your folds, pressing against your entrance. taking his lip between his teeth, biting down in an anticipation. your hands curled up into fists as he slowly pushed in, your nails digging into your skin as he slowly pushed his cock into you. the two of you let out a guttural noise as his cock filled your tight wet pussy.

a long exasperated “Fuuuck” left his mouth as his head fell forward, watching as his cock entered you. he grabbed your leg, pushing it up onto his shoulder, wrapping your other leg around his waste. he had his knee propped up on the couch while his other stood on the ground, holding himself up. a strangled cry left your lips as he stretched you out, finally bottoming out inside of you, taking it slow so you could get used to the feeling of him inside of you.

“fuck it barely fits” he teased, clearly proud of himself and his own size. his hair residing at his base pressed up against your wet pussy. “you ready for me to move?”

you open your eyes, biting down on your lip, you nod. “mhm” you felt so small underneath him. you watched how he held your leg, squeezing your thigh while his other hand held your hip, holding you in place so he could fuck you.

slowly he moved his hips back, watching as his cock pulls out of you, and then he snaps his hips back in just a bit quicker. he’s a noisy guy, his moans are nothing but sweet to your ears but he feels like he could cum just listening to the moans you let fall from your lips, your voice echoing through the tall tower of the library. his name was music to his ears, encouraging him to fuck you even harder, his cock bullying your cervix while his veiny cock brushes over the spot that leaves you seeing stars.

“fuck zoro.. f-feels so good…” your voice is shaky as his thrusts become quicker and messier. with your leg still resting over his shoulder, he leans over you, finding a quicker pace in his thrusts. his balls slapping against your soft skin, creating a loud echo of moans and skin against skin for the books to hear.

“fuck you’re such a good girl.. princesss…” he chants praises to you, his voice deep and doused with pleasure. pet names poured from his lips as he fucked you like a dog in heat. your back was arched up, your chest rubbing up against his as he fucked into you, stretching your leg much further than you thought he would’ve. his mouth found yours again, your tongues fighting with each others while your moans turned into one big mess of noise. your hands found his back, nails digging into his skin, holding onto him like prey: he couldn’t focus on kissing you anymore, he pulled away, your saliva both stringing together, creating a mess as he continued to fuck you like he’d die if he wasn’t in your pussy.

“god damn princess.. fuck i’m gonna cum soon..”

“me too.. mhh zoro.. please cum inside of me..”

“yes baby.. whatever you ask for.” he kisses your cheek before his head falls next to yours, his moans landing right in your ear, yours to his. his thrusts became messy and uncoordinated as the two of you neared your orgasm. he continued to wildly fuck you until your nails bared so hard onto his skin he bled. you almost screamed out his name as your orgasm hit you like white lightning. your cunt, tight around him, left him chomping at the bit as he poured his cum into you. his cock as far into you as he could possibly get it, filling your womb with his hot, sticky cum.

his cock was so far into you, you were seeing stars even after coming down from your high, feeling him still inside of you, hard.

“fuck baby..” he moans into your ears, and when i say this man whines. “i need more..” he began to slowly thrust his cock into you again, leaving your overstimulated cunt throbbing around him.

“mhh zoro… take what you want, you deserve it” your words were music to his ears as he began to messily thrust into you again. he wanted to fuck his thick cum into you, he wanted to watch it pour out of your dumb little cunt.

“good girl..” he groans as he leans back, pulling your other leg underneath his shoulder pushing you into a mating press.

“zoro!” you yelp, a little shocked.

planting both of his arms above your shoulders onto the soft couch. “fuck i’m gonna fill you with this cum” he groans before he’s fucking you again, wildly like an animal who can’t contain itself. fuck he loves your pussy, he loves how wet it is, how tight and warm it is. and how it will only belong to him now. he’s so deep inside of you, fucking his warm cum into your womb. he needs you so bad. sitting up just a little, he slows down and looks down at your clit.

he drops a glob of his spit down on what he considers his property now.

“touch your clit for me, baby. use my spit.” he says as he crushes you again, watching you move your hand to rub that sensitive clit, easily bringing you close to another orgasm. he watches your face unfold, your moans fall from your lips as tears form in your eyes, so overstimulated. “yes princess.. i know you can cum again. milk my cock baby” he groans loudly as his balls slap against the meat of your ass. as his thrusts become sloppy again, he knows he’s about to cum a giant load into your needy pussy.

your moans grow louder, no longer are you forming coherent sentences as he continues to just brutally fuck his cock into you. “i’m gonna.. fuck zoro.. im…” your words are gone as you scream finding that rush of an orgasm you need now badly. as your cunt tightens around his thick cock, he can feel himself lose it as he fucks his hard cock into you just a few more times until he’s crushing you, spilling loads of cum into your hot cunt. your name falling from his lips in a loud groan.

he sat there, feeling comfort in your warm cunt but seeing how badly he had essentially tortured you and your little body.

“fuck…” he spoke gruffly. “are you okay?” he says, sitting up just a bit, watching you wince as his cock moves inside of you.

“y-yes..” you stutter, feeling your head spinning. he moves his hands to your face, gently wiping the spit away from your lips, kissing you. “i’m sorry if i hurt you, i got carried away..” he rubbed your cheek. you shook your head.

“no.. it was amazing. thank you..” a small giggle left you, watching his mood lighten up just a little.

“i’m gonna sit up and let your legs go.” he warned as he sat back up, putting his leg back down behind him for support. he rubbed your thighs as he gently placed your legs back down at his side. he looked down to see the white ring of cum around his cock where he had pulled out just a little. he was scared to pull his cock all the way out, not wanting you to yelp.

“is it okay if i pull out?” he looks down at you, seeing how cute you were being all fucked out and cock drunk.

“mhh.. yeah” you mumble, fatigue quickly falling over you.

that changed when you felt the sensation of him leaving your warm pussy, causing you to jolt up just a little bit, letting out a quick “fuck” as he pulled out. when he pulled out, he spread your legs apart, getting down closer to watch his cum pour out of you, biting his lip in satisfaction as it did so. he then pressed one last kiss to your clit before standing up.

he looked down at you , getting down on his knees so he could be face to face with you.

“just so we’re clear, your pussy belongs to me now…” he said , watching as your lips curled into a smile, reaching up and grabbing his head to pull him into a kiss.

“i know and that’s okay” you smile against his lips, kissing him once more, knowing you had a lot more long nights ahead of you while living with him

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

MODERN!ANAKIN SKYWALKER who's got a bit of a situationship with you. It's not like him, he's very new to it all and its rules, which means some key details get lost in translation with him. For most, the "talking" stage consists of the ability to still see other people during, keeping your options open so to speak. For Anakin, he expects a sort of unspoken faithfulness he had no reason to define until now.

Now, as he stares at two words. "she's busy." A text he's been deliberating over for an inappropriate amount of time. What could possess another person to answer your texts for you? A glance to your contact name confirms it, just in case he was losing his mind. He kinda wishes he was. He taps your name, and calls you. Three rings. An answer on the other line, that is most certainly not you, invades his ears.

"Yo," the deep voice says and Anakin doesn't say a word as he hangs up. Without a second thought, he pulls up your Snap Map which you've stupidly left on. You do that a lot. Sometimes he checks on you only to see what you're up to. Some days he watches your little Bitmoji happy on it's map at that little cafe you like, and he calls you to see if you'll tell him the truth of where you are.

He gets in his car, and tracks you down.

His fingers drum against the steering wheel, just like his fist drums against the front door when he gets there. It shakes the whole fucking house. He takes a step back, resting his hands on his hips, and his tongue forms over his upper lip.

The door opens, and he comes face to face with the guy he presumes texted him, and answered the phone. This is his place. "Can I help you?" he questions with an attitude Anakin doesn't fucking care for at all.

"I don't wanna talk to you, I wanna talk to her." Blunt as ever, Anakin comes off as unstable to your companion, who obviously bucks up in your defense.

"The fuck? No. What do you think this is?" he responds, and the escalation of raising voices causes you to recognize who your friend is talking to. So you come downstairs, and see that familiar head of golden curly hair.

"Anakin?" you question in disbelief, slowing your descent down the stairs. At your arrival, Anakin's attention completely shifts onto you.

"Hey." He nods up. "We need to talk." His finger points to the space in front of him, as if calling you over like a dog. Oddly and subconsciously compelled, you make your way closer to him. Your friend's arm rests on the door frame, cutting in between you two. Apparently he didn’t want Anakin slipping inside. You only notice how much taller he is compared to your friend. If he wanted to, he’d put him on his ass with a well-placed one-handed push. You try not to think about that now as you approach, standing directly behind your friend’s elbow.

“What the hell are you doing here?” At the end of your sentence, Anakin’s massive hand snatches your upper arm, and your friend goes to separate the two of you with a commotion of “woah, woah!” You appease him, tell him it’s alright, that you’ve gotta take care of this, and allow yourself to be drawn away from the door step and closer to the street.

Once he has you where he wants you, he releases you, and you jostle from the loss of support. That hand wipes down his face, the most irritable you’ve ever seen him, and he gestures to you as he steps closer, “If you’re pulling this shit, let’s just call it.” he tells you, dismissing entirely the existence of the man who owns this house.

The crease in your brows deepen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“You do, and if I’m competing with other guys I don’t want any fucking part in it.” The towering figure before you stoops to get eye level with you, “Either get smart or fuck off, alright?” You hate to say that his low voice sends shivers down your spine.

His direct ultimatum makes you indignantly blink at him, taken aback at his sheer tenacity as you weigh out the options. He doesn’t give you enough time, scoffing at you, and turning his back on you. As if he could be so bold as to expect to be the only one you’re talking to, expect to treat you this way.

And yet, somehow, you end up back at his place. Impossibly fat cock driving into your insides as he picks you up by your hips into his thrusts. Knelt onto the bed, he rocks forward, while your cervix is getting bruised into submission. You squirm, arching your back off the bed with your pretty legs stuck straight into the air. “Who’s fucking pussy is this, huh? Who’s fucking pussy is this?” Skin smacks skin, harder than before. His tongue forms over his upper lip, brows pinched in focus as he fucks you like he means to beat you into the shape of his dick.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yours!” You whimper. “Yours, Ani, all yours.” You’re lifted almost entirely off the mattress, he straps his hands over your thighs to keep your ass pinned to his abs that sheen with sweat. Cunt stuffed to the brim as he relentlessly bullies it, creating an empty fucking vacuum that screams at you every time he pulls out. You really are fucking obsessed with this entitled behemoth of a man and what he can do to your body in a few strokes.

“That’s fucking right, baby, and don’t you forget it.”

[roseyswords]

FULL MOON SPOILERS!!!!

So first of all..

I was not expecting to see the cherubs this episode. That... That was a big shock. Seeing them and their plotline was certainly interesting. It was funny seeing their reactions to just everything going on with Blitzø.

And speaking of Blitzø. Um fuck?! My heart that hurt!? "I think so highly of you. I didn't realize you think so little of me" like OUCH? I keep adding question marks to my sentences because my brain can't quite comprehend how it's feeling.

I find it really interesting that Blitzø brought up Stolas's imp butlers. This is a part that has stuck out with me really strongly. Cuz we've seen Stolas squeeze the shit outta one of them when angry on the phone with Stella. And it really makes me wonder just what kind of behavior has Blitzø exactly seen of Stolas interacting with his butlers. Because Stolas is a very rich man, who has only imps working for him and Blitzø noticed.

Which is funny because he notices literally nothing happening around him this whole episode. Which feels thematically relevant. He's always been oblivious to the more emotional side of Stolas's affection for him but that is also by design of how Stolas treats him. Remember Stolas is the same guy who used to get routinely bleeped due to his sheer level of hornyness. Blitzø has only ever seen their relationship through a sexual lens.

I also find it very interesting that he goes into that interaction already extremely worried and insecure and scared out of his mind that Stolas is tired of him. Which makes going in and being confronted with Stolas's emotions even more jarring and confusing for him. He's already coming in with an intense amount of anxiety with the singular goal of pleasing Stolas, which just highlights the unhealthyness of their dynamic that Stolas is trying to break away from.

Moving on to Stolas's mind for a bit. It has got to fucking hurt that when you finally put yourself out there emotionally and the other person immediately thinks you must be fucking with them. I think it really opened his eyes to how their relationship has truly been when Blitzø assumes that this serious conversation must just be some really weird roleplaying scenario.

And when Blitzø yells at him and reveals that he thinks of him as this rich pampered jerk, it is a startling difference of perception between the two of them that Stolas now has to contend with. It is so interesting to me how Stolas in this scenario is trying really hard to think about things from Blitzø's point of view in terms of how their deal must be affecting him, but he's also not prepared or emotionally equipped to think about how that must shape how Blitzø sees him as a person.

So overall that just leaves us with a lot of pain, and anguish, and a really beautiful episode.

And wow...that hurt.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 3

Holy hell, guys. Seriously, I love you all. And just seeing the sheer amount of LOVE this story is getting makes me so happy.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

Part 1 Part 2

*

Eddie was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was wrong and that was uncomfortable. On the other it meant that whatever was going on with Steve he didn’t care about his reputation anymore and that was always a good thing.

He had walked out of the school doors to the parking lot after school to see a Steve Harrington leaning against his van, just like yesterday.

“Harrington,” Eddie said, “this is a surprise.”

Steve ducked his head. “If you don’t want me to be here, I can leave.”

Eddie held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa there. I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised you took me up on the offer is all. Last time I checked your lot doesn’t throw in with mine.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “It does now. Now that I don’t have anyone else.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head. “I thought you and Nancy Wheeler were hot and heavy.”

The very idea of the two of them made him gag. Hetros. Freaking insane, man.

“We broke up on Halloween,” Steve murmured.

Eddie blinked. He had been at that party. To sell, of course, he hadn’t been invited. Had even seen Wheeler storm off, but he really hadn’t thought much about it.

“What bridges haven’t you burned?” he asked in all seriousness.

“My kids,” Steve said. “I’d do anything for them.”

“Okay, that’s going to have to take some explanation,” Eddie said, shoving his hands in his back pockets.

Steve looked around the van and gulped. “Can we take this somewhere else?”

Eddie looked over and saw Nancy and some other guy being all cutesy. “Yeah. Come on, hop in. I’ll bring back later to pick up your car when the lot’s no longer crawling with people who want to do you in.”

Steve sighed in relief, his body fulling relaxing for the first time since Eddie started this journey. He moved around to the other side of the van and got in once Eddie unlocked the door.

“Where to, my liege?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Is the quarry okay?” Steve asked shyly.

Eddie’s grin softened to a smile. “Sure thing, pretty boy.” He started the van and pulled out on to the open road, leaving behind the messy turmoil that was high school.

They made it out to quarry and Eddie climbed up on the top of his van. Steve looked up at him in amazement.

“Uh, how am I supposed to get up there?” Steve asked.

Eddie leaned over the side and held out his hand. “Grab hold.”

Steve looked at it a moment and then back up at Eddie. He looked into those doe brown eyes and sighed. He planted one foot against the side of the van and then took Eddie’s hand.

And was promptly vaulted to the top of the van.

“Holy shit!” Steve said once he was settled next to Eddie. “You’re strong.”

Eddie laughed. “It comes from all the lugging equipment around for my band. And helping out with stage crew.”

“Wow, you have a band?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. “Corroded Coffin. It’s a metal band, we play at the Hideout every week.”

Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know much about metal. I tend to go for alt rock bands like Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, REM, Tears for Fears...I bet that was a load of gibberish for you.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m familiar with a couple of them,” he admitted. “Not my thing. But I would have pegged you for a pop vibe.”

Steve scoffed. “I have some taste, man.”

Eddie laughed. “I’d beg to differ, but sure. You do you, dude.”

Steve bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Go on, then. Impress me with your metal bands, since mine are such shit.”

“My favorite is Metalica,” Eddie said, bumping Steve back. “But I like Mercyful Fate, Dio, Poison.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “And I thought my bands had weird names.”

“What the hell is a Depeche Mode anyway?” Eddie fired back.

“What is a Metalica?” Steve replied.

Eddie opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “All right, you got me there.”

“I was talking to Mrs Hall today about my schedule,” Steve said, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. “I have to drop basketball and baseball. It’s too late to drop swimming, but I talked to Coach Burton and he said I should be cleared for competition I just have to see the swimming board’s doctor for final confirmation.”

“So suddenly you have two classes opened up?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my last two,” Steve mumbled into his knees. He lifted his head with a sigh. “She won’t let me just drop them and not pick up new classes even though the semester half way through.”

“So you thought about what to fill those slots with?”

“She gave me a list of options,” Steve grumbled and dug the paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Eddie.

Eddie looked over the options. “Debate, would double as extra English credit...” he mumbled reading what Mrs Hall had wrote. “Can’t see you doing that one, if I’m honest.”

Steve shook his head. “Me either. I know it’s not just arguing. But I know they can get heated. I don’t need complete strangers yelling at me when I get that enough at home.”

Eddie nodded. “Choir. Can you sing?”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, actually. But I’ve never wanted to join the choir.”

Eddie frowned. “Why not?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked away. “My vocal coach said that I don’t blend well and am very loud.”

Eddie bumped into Steve’s shoulder. “Soloist only, then?”

Steve nodded.

“Sounds like you’d be great at metal singing,” he continued. “Very loud and very in your face.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man. But no, choir is out.”

Eddie looked back at the list. “Machine work?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad would kill me.”

“Too blue collar for your dad?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I gotcha.”

“Stage crew,” Eddie continued.

Steve sighed. “I thought about that one, but like with the machine work it’s too ‘blue collar’ for my dad. Plus with my concussion, I’m pretty sure either option would be out.”

Eddie cocked his head and clicked his tongue. “Fair enough.” He looked over the list. “Pottery?”

Steve laughed. “Sure, why not? That’s one.”

Eddie nodded. He mentally crossed out all the classes that were seventh period, focusing only on the class that were eighth.

“Hmm...” he murmured pursing his lips. “Looks like what you’ve got left is geology and drama.”

Steve reared his head back. “What the hell is geology?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea, but it’s obviously a science-y thing.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “I guess it’s pottery and drama.” He buried his face in his knees again. “I know my reputation is already in tatters but fuck those kids in those classes are going to tear me to pieces.”

Eddie blinked. The mystery that was Steve Harrington was like following a rabbit down a hole, and coming up to Wonderland. “You’re more concerned that they’re going to make fun of you then you are of your old friends making fun of you?”

Steve lifted his head. “Well sure. I know Tommy and them are going to make fun of me even if I stayed on both teams. That’s a given. They’ve got King Billy to follow now and they’re gonna get vicious with it. But no, the real problem comes from the art geeks coming for me because I have invaded their space.”

Eddie almost brought up the drawing class Steve was already in, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He shrugged. “So tell them truth. Tell them you had course correct because of a concussion. Be honest and defer to them in all things.”

“I’m also going to be the only senior in those classes, man,” Steve groused.

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, probably. But what else have you got?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”

They lapsed into silence. Just sitting there for awhile looking out over the quarry.

After some time, Eddie bumped Steve’s shoulder again. “So you want to tell me about ‘your kids’?”

Steve frowned.

“Burned bridges, people who haven’t given up on Steve Harrington?” Eddie prompted.

Steve lit up. “Oh yeah. Sorry, man, it’s just the...” he pointed to his face. Eddie nodded. “I still don’t know how I got roped into dealing with these assholes, but yeah. There are six of them now. Started with Dustin Henderson. Smart kid, smarter than most adults I know. Then it expanded to his friends, which includes the little brothers of my ex and her new boyfriend, Jonathan Byers, and of course Lucas Sinclair. And then I picked up El or Jane. I’m not sure which one she prefers, most people call her El though. And then there’s Max.”

“Five boys and a girl?” Eddie asked, his face twisting awkwardly. “Congrats?”

Steve laughed. “Max is short for Maxine. But don’t you dare call her that.”

Eddie blinked. “Max Mayfield? As in Billy Hargrove’s step-sister?”

Steve tilted his head back. “Yeah...but I don’t think I could separate her from the group now if I tried. And besides, she’d kick my ass.”

“You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, man,” Eddie said.

Steve looked over at him. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

Tag List: @evix-syne666 @renaissan-vvitch @deadlydodos @scarletzgo @messrs-weasley @kodaik97 @thedragonsaunt @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @nelotegreitic @sundead @artiststarme @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @thing-a-ling @anaibis @garden-of-gay @matchingbatbites @spectrum-spectre @winterbuckwild @steve-the-hairrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @babyblender @cursedfoxteeth @novelnovella @throwbackthrowaway @strangersteddierthings @shrimply-a-menace @emly03

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 1

I'm awful at emotional speeches, but I just wanted to say... I'm very happy that I got to run this blog for such a long time. And I hope that there is still a lot of fun ahead of us. It feels very triumphant, to finally get to season 4 together with you all :)

"Let's kill Tot with Hammers" moment #1: This is an image Bonta of Dofus era, reused in Wakfu Season 4 to save money. Usually, Wakfu era Bonta is not white colored, and it does not have the same architecture that it had in Dofus era.

I do not know why they didn't just reuse images of Bonta from the OVAS, which are accurate to the Wakfu MMO and Wakfu Season 1 vision of Bonta.

"Let's kill Tot with Hammers" moment #2: Once again, this is just reusing the movie assets...

Also, the house has shifted positions. Did Kerubim, Atcham, and Joris move...? (I ask this despite knowing that the answer is "Ankama really dropped the ball with some of the animation and the sheer amount of asset reusage with this season, for some unknowable reason")

I am going to cry, he's so fucking funny... Save me. Shelter me.

This is Clown Olympics. I love you, Atcham and Kerubim. You are so right.

Literally they do not give a fuck. Is he implying Joris should go to the grocery store instead of staring at the evil, ominous eyes in the sky. Is he implying they should all eat dinner first and think about whatever the fuck is happening later.

I will be honest, I'm pretty sure they're like that because if they weren't, Joris would have a stress-induced heart attack. Joris can do all the worrying for the team. They don't need to feed into the worries of the guy who, at 7 years of age, convinced himself that Astrub was about to be overrun by zombies and nearly cried over a bottle-opener because of that.

Kerubim and Atcham really don't give a shit about little Jojo's opinions, huh.

He says something and the response is almost always "I'm not arguing with someone who is 70–90 years younger than me. Whatever u say gorgeous" and then go back to ignoring it. Insane.

[drooling at the thought of whatever Yugo does in the manga starting the Waven era and killing millions of people, which leads to Joris's (as well as Kerubim and Atcham's) military dictatorship in Bonta, and the way it truly underpins the character parallels between Joris and Yugo in a "child hero to antichrist type figure of ruin and death pipeline" way and the way they both demonstrate that road to hell is paved with good intentions] w-whaatever u say gorgeous. 🥴🤤

When I saw this the first time, I audibly groaned, and messaged my friends saying "I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING TRANSLATE THIS FONT AGAIN!! FUCK!!!!!"

...this says "Coqueline"

This is the Lorem Ipsum filler text. No cool easter eggs here.

This moment really touched me when I watched this season. Even with Joris, who is only six centuries old, you can see The Entropy begin to set in. Seeing cities built and rebuilt and destroyed and rebuilt. Seeing thousands of friends die, be born. Lose your entire family to time. And watch it be so eroded away by time that there is basically no proof of those loved ones, and the places you went to together, even existing.

I think it would be beautiful for someone immortal to know that somewhere out there, there's tangible and irrefutable proof of everything they have ever seen and experienced, including every single thing they love that is no more.

Oooor maybe I'm getting Ronik'y into it. I'm insane about immortality.

You get what you FUCKING DESERVE. ✌

[girlgerard]

some of the things that make me really think this doc has to be more than just concert clips and audience interviews is that gerard is a genuine chatterbox. they hate interviews and social media because of the way it pushes an agenda usually not focused on art or community, and gerard has always been a community guy when they’re feeling social, but when they’re allowed to rant about what they’re passionate about, they’re literally impossible to shut up. i think people have forgotten that they’re sooo chatty and passionate when in a conducive situation simply because they’ve spent the last few years offline (and assumedly having a hard lockdown), but that doesn’t mean they haven’t been talking up a storm in their personal life. and by the sheer amount of creativity and media literacy we’ve seen from them in the past month alone, i’m positive they’ve been infodumping joan-and-squid style whenever they get the chance.

gerard’s also very aware that they won’t be able to just not talk about this for the rest of their life. this tour has been one of the biggest rock phenomenons in years, and has generated incredible media and public attention. gerard was already hounded with questions about mcr in unrelated interviews before they ever even got back together. they’re very aware they’re going to get asked about it. because they hate interviews, because they’re so careful about the way their art is received, because they have such specific intentions they don’t like to have misconstrued by an uncaring or outright malicious interviewer, i really feel like they’re going to talk in this doc. not explain everything; they’re certainly going to leave a lot of room for interpretation, they’ve said they love shit like that. but they’re going to talk.

[corpsentry]

i have derailed myself. down terrible for shaoshang xinghancanlan lltg and speedrunning both parts as fast as possible with my mother. we um. binged 30 episodes in the last five days………….. me when the hetero period drama is treated not like a trashy ya novel where everyone has big eyes small face (listening to 银河漫漫盼归期 on the bus to jb like a weirdo) it is hard to put into words the sheer kind of resignation i have approached the xianxia/wuxia/general chinese period drama genre with for the past few years as after cql and woh we watched love between fairy and devil and til the end of the moon and who rules the world and dawg that shit made me Cry…. after much thought i have come to the realization that i have a personal vendetta against stories that only progress because there are 1) evil characters and 2) stupid characters i.e. there is blinding frustrating cheek gnawing cruelty askance but that shit just keeps looping because the protagonists are sooooo nice — that is to say, STUPID AS BALLS— and don’t assert themselves. xinghancanlan (and the drama we finished just before, xihuazhi (blossoms into adversity (dogshit english localized titles, i sob)) is so incredibly fucking refreshing on a basic storytelling level because it doesn’t linger. no misery porn (see: love between fairy and devil, til the end of the moon), no dragging out the jealous cousin who keeps torturing the protag and co, instead the plot! just! keeps! moving! it’s got places to go! and it motherfucking goes to them. god i want to eat til the end of the moon’s flashbacks alive anyway (separate story, very long) xinghancanlan also does so many levels of character storytelling and it does it like HELL the amount of care given to each parent child relationship in particular lord i haven’t seen a parent child relationship written with such nuance and care in a long time, if ever, as the one between shaoshang and her mom there is no villain!!! everything is terrible!!!! art imitates reality. and then you get her and her dad, ling buyi and the whole situation going on over there, the emperor, even wang ling’s family— these are not archetypes. they’re people. and that’s so nice. that the homies over there produced a show that lingers not on the agonizing nail ripping sobfests but on how hard it is to be a person

and then there is the fact of the production itself. not to fist my own ass or pat this one’s but this show approaches scene writing and transitions the way i approach my own writing and i have never seen that in any tv series let alone a chinese period drama where girl meets guy and it goes so FUCKIN HARD. i give example. character A and B gossip about character C for a brief period. “C is such a whiny bitch,” B says (this is a close-up shot). cut immediately to a close-up shot of C whining to D, and then one of D replying. just like that we have transitioned between place, time, and characters with this kind of fun witty filmography and writing that makes it feel like this scene is a continuation of the last due to the same style of face to face interrogation. but we are in an entirely different place

or, abruptly there is a scene of violence and brutality yet unseen in the show. it fades to black, and character H shudders awake at her desk. “i just had a terrible dream,” she says. but the scene after that is a continuation of the violence and brutality of earlier and we come to realize that this is very much a real moment in the story. the audience has been played by an inverse ‘it was just a dream’. it was not just a dream. even though it was shocking and gruesome. the story is moving to new places now

and more generally, the score reminds me so strongly of beijing opera with the way the music describes and foreshadows minute gestures; shifting eyes, a tic in the left hand, the slightest drop of one’s shoulders. there are new and interesting, relevant, thought provoking transitions in each scene. the framing of shots emphasizes specific character emotions and mental scapes. and shanjian is an emotionally repressed loser. it’s just so. so. (howling for 85 years). fucking dazzling to see a piece of art that has clearly been made with such care, my guys. and also is fun to watch. and is obviously having fun itself. i am reminded of the ways in which art can save people’s hearts as this saves mine. and shaoshang makes me want to cry, is such a hot mess and not at all one, gives so few shits and altogether too many, is just learning how to hold the love that others give her without trying to call it something else-/ she is so tender. i’m throw myself off a cliff right now. all day i have been wandering around jb muttering to myself about the beautiful and good things in the world. it can change your life to see someone smile even if it is fictional character cheng shaoshang from xinghancanlan. cannot stop thinking about this damn show. thank u for listening

[flufallo]

Some random, out of context lines from only the best show in the world

"YOU are the brawn?"

"If she'd died last night, I'd have no problem with her being here!" "Well that got dark"

"We've met phychics before, but none as fit as you" "HAH. Did that work on girls back in the 80s?"

"Are you ready to talk to her shoes?"

"And those girls are staring..." "Mabye it's your outfit" *middle finger*

"I don't care how old you are. Go to bed"

"Well, I'm very open minded and also very concerned about bursting open" "honestly I just find her so charming"

"Are you insane?"

"so I'm a... Tree?"

"Cute? Thats offensive"

"It smells like dog shit in there"

"I'll make sure to jot that down in my journal of opinions I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT"

"Luckily, love requires no logic"

"MONTY! JESUS! I'm tryna... Threaten some kids"

"Are you ready to talk to her shoes?"

"Fuck off, the kid had a sardine"

"E-yup"

"she's always... Changing outfits"

"Are you being threatening or is this a sexy choking?"

"weeee!"

"In my experience, uptight boys like a bit of rough play" "... Right" (my poor innocent Edwin has no idea what that means)

"Hello, um, cute little friend with the bow tie"

"Teethface, what the fuck?"

"I'm just a really old man who lives in a fish"

"Specificity is key"

*Girls react sword death* "was that good? Were you scared?" "Pff, no. The sword would of punctured the lung, leaving her *gasping noises* unable to scream. Not to mention the sheer amount of blood filling her mouth. Very disappointing girls"

"You guys are like a dead married couple on acid"

"Is that my left or your left?" "We have the same left!"

"No, it is the blue book on the top left corner" *picks up pink book* "does that look blue to you, Charles?"(Colour blind Charles yaas)

"Well, that's harsh. But also charmingly stubborn. Capricorn?"

"Were not living anywhere, because your not living"

"This detective work is much measure than it ever looked on scooby doo"

"Two boys can like like each other, you know. I have a lot of manga about it. It's very sweet, and explicit"

"Again, a handshake would suffice"

"Yes, your highness"

"What is a hand job?"

"Well have to investigate further into this Molly character"

"At least one of you is in school, right?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with that one... Monty... You... A lot of time?" "Hmm? Merely swapping books is all"

"Oh my fucking fuck"

"I thought you were like a meat robber or a meat pervert or something"

"If you need anything, just shout. But don't actually shout. It's a library"

"Are you always a woman, is Charles ever a woman, can you change your eyes and nose like Mr potato head, do you know who mr potato head is?"

"Your such a whore"

"You don't look like a walrus"

"this looks like the places in those fish stick commercials I like"

"Charles, be less British. Edwin, be less Edwin"

"oh no, it's porn. It's all just porn"

"there are 142 cats" "142? That's way off!" (It's four off)

"and when he gets back from hell, I'll be waiting. God, I am such a romantic I hate it!"

"do you and Charles.. um... Have a special friendship?" "We are best friends, if you must know." (Keep him innocent guys)

"have you seen a Victrola anywhere?" "What?"

"oh, I think I'm gonna be sick!" "You are a ghost, Charles. You cannot get sick"

"well, maybe karma's just a bitch"

"I heard they died in some gay suicide pact"

"I have never wanted to get back inside someone more" (out of context this one just sounds so wrong lmao)

"are you saying my ghost friend isn't going to die? Super, thanks."

[riizegasm]

We Fall, We Fail || H.SH and P.WB

❀ pairing: Park Wonbin x fem!oc x Hong Seunghan, cameos from zb1 members

❀ genre: apocalypse!au, angst, slice of life, minor fluff

❀ word count: ~7.6k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive scenes, minor character death, difficult conversations around grief, mild gore (description of major injury), reference to fear of SA, open/ambiguous ending, poly!hanibani

❀ summary: In the new world, trust is hard to come by. As the past eclipses the future, it becomes harder and harder to move on. To let go is to fall, and to fall is to fail.

❀ A/N: Welcome to part 2 of the first work on my new blog! I've been sitting on this part for a couple of months, so it is truly my baby. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are always welcome. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 || masterlist

It’s nine versus eight. Joohyun knows that they are outnumbered, and the sheer size of some of the other men warrants being counted as more than one person. She sighs as she peers up at a man with a baby face who is overly tall and has muscles that bulge through his tight black shirt. Even though their leader assured them that they came in peace, Joohyun knows that it wouldn’t be difficult for them to choose violence. 

“So you want us to believe that you came here just so you wouldn’t be lonely when the first snow hits?” Shotaro sounds incredulous, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

A man with inky black hair rolls his eyes, crossing his arms to mirror Shotaro’s stance. “That’s not really what we said. The more we’ve seen of the farm, the more impressive it is. We could help you and you guys could help us. We’d be building a community.”

“And who said we need any of your help?” Seunghan spits. 

Sungchan cocks his shotgun in lieu of speaking, stepping closer to the group of nine standing below the porch. Joohyun knows how scary he must look, having put on a good amount of muscle in the past few weeks. Even though he would never shoot the men in front of them, the threat is enough to have the group taking tentative steps back. 

“Your story isn’t adding up, so I suggest you start saying shit that makes sense before we have to kill all of you.”

Sungchan’s threat is an empty one, but his tone is icy enough to be believable. It forces the group into silence for a moment, before the shortest of the bunch steps forward. 

“A few members of our group were recently killed,” the man states softly. 

Someone hisses out his name in warning. Matthew, Joohyun catalogs in her mind. By the way Shotaros shoulders sag, she assumes that she may as well begin to become acquainted with the men. 

“I mean, they killed my girlfriend, Yujin’s sister, and our friend Miyoung, all of the women in our group. They then forced us out of our shelter and we’ve been wandering ever since. We came across your farm and the houses up the street and fuck, we just thought it would be worth a shot.”

Matthew sniffles after he relays the information, tightening his hold on the straps of the camping bag he totes on his back. The other men have all cast their gazes elsewhere, some seemingly holding back tears of their own. Joohyun wonders if this is their first time admitting what happened to them out loud. 

A firm hand curls around Joohyun’s waist, a familiar silouhette making its presence known behind her. Wonbin’s fingers curl into the tight fabric of her tank top, cold from the late fall chill. Joohyun can feel his deep inhale before he speaks. 

“We know what it’s like to lose people,” he begins, clearing his throat when his voice starts off hoarse. “But we simply can’t accommodate more people here.”

A man instantly protests, a pink blush poised high on his cheekbones. “That’s not what we meant. There’s an abandoned house just up the road that we’re hoping to live in. We just wanted to be in contact before the first snow hits, you know, like good neighbors.”

“Neighbors?” Anton questions, cocking his head cutely.

“Forget it, Hanbin. I knew this was a waste of time,” the tallest of the group mutters. 

“Wait!” Shotaro calls just as the group moved to retreat. “We can be neighborly. Why don’t you guys come by around lunch tomorrow so we can talk more?”

“Taro,” Sungchan warns. 

Shotaro doesn’t pay the man any mind. “I mean it. Come by and we can see what we can do for each other.”

.         .         .

Two years and nine months prior

It feels like little more than a rumbling underneath Joohyun’s feet. The building is shaking just enough that spare belongings clatter to the floor. Some of the monitors instantly fade to black as the lights flicker twice before they go out completely. The sunlight streaming in from the window is the only thing illuminating the five faces in the room. 

“What the hell was that?” Wonbin questions, grip tight around the neck of his guitar. 

Jaeri looks around nervously. “I don’t know but I really don’t—,”

Her sentence is cut off by the shrill sound of an alarm, then the overcom comes to life with a buzz of static. Never had Joohyun been so happy to have yearbook in such an old building. 

Attention all Fairden University students, faculty, and staff! This is not a drill. Due to nearby bombings, we are currently required to shelter in place. You are not permitted to leave the building or travel between floors under any circumstances. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please do not leave your current floor. Thank you. 

Tears are spilling over Joohyun’s cheeks before she can fully process the message. Across from her, Wonbin isn’t faring much better. Tears glisten in the corner of his wide eyes, making them sparkle in the quickly disappearing sunlight. 

For months there had been speculations of war. News reports would go on and on about rising political tensions across the world and warn civilians of the possible consequences. Any time Joohyun got on the phone with her family, they warned her to be careful in college, knowing just how perilous the world could soon be. She guesses their speculations were correct.

“Holy shit,” Anton breathes out. “Look at that smoke cloud.”

A thick plume of brownish-gray smoke is quickly taking over the sky. In the distance, a few birds scatter, fleeing before they could be absorbed by the cloud. Joohyun envies them.

Jaeri quickly grabs Anton’s arm and pulls him backwards. “Stay away from the windows! We don’t know what kind of bomb it was.”

There’s a brief pause before the building shakes again, smoke completely blocking any external light. It seems stronger, so much so that there’s the vague sound of a window shattering somewhere. The overcom whirs to life again. 

Attention all Fairden University students, faculty, and staff! This is not a drill. Due to the localization of the bombings, we believe medical centers and hospitals are being targeted. Fairden University Hospital has just been hit. Please continue to shelter in place. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please continue to shelter in place.

Dread ices over the blood in Joohyun’s veins, tears immediately coming to a stop. It seems that Wonbin has come to the same realization, tears coming as full on sobs now. 

“Seunghan.”

Joohyun’s voice is a mere whisper in the darkness, but she hopes that it serves as a prayer to be answered. 

.         .         .

Eunseok does his best to prepare some roasted vegetables and seared meat before their guests arrive. They’re limited on quantity, so portions must be rationed, but Eunseok still tries to give the meal all he’s got. It’s evident in the way that he flits around the kitchen and scurries into the pantry that he’s on a mission. 

Joohyun can’t help but smile from her position by the wall, content to watch as the meal comes together. It’s only when a figure blocks her view and a warm pair of lips are pressed to her forehead that she snaps out of it. Her vision is blurry from the person’s proximity, but the woodsy smell is enough for Joohyun to immediately identify her boyfriend. 

“How are you feeling?” Joohyun questions softly, peering down to examine Seunghan’s ankle. “You look a little swollen.”

The man sighs, placing another wet kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine, princess. You know you don’t have to worry about me.”

Seunghan is simultaneously the least and the most pressing of Joohyun’s worries. Despite the fact that he’s as healed as he’ll ever be, he can’t quite walk without a limp or run at all. In this world, speed and agility are everything, and Seunghan has neither. Joohyun knows that with newcomers on the way, a quick escape is far from likely. She just hopes it won’t cost them their lives.

“I can see you worrying,” Seunghan coos. “Trust me, the meat from that deer that Sungchan caught yesterday will heal me.”

“You said that about the last deer two weeks ago,” Eunseok mutters, standing over the little fire pit on the old stovetop. 

“And look at me! Soon I’ll be sprinting around the house.”

Joohyun can’t find it within herself to chuckle along with the boys, eyes flitting down to the permanent swell of Seunghan’s ankle. As much as he has always been one to joke through the pain, Joohyun knows he’s still hurting. Sometimes she hears his mumbled curses and stuttered groans after standing too long. She and Wonbin take turns to massage the injury, hoping to rub the pain away. Instead, it lingers like a stale taste in the mouth. 

A light rap of knuckles against the back porch door seems to spring Seunghan into action. Before Joohyun can protest, or even encourage him to grab a weapon, he’s swinging the door open. 

The nine figures slowly stream into the kitchen, a few greetings mumbled between them. It isn’t until Shotaro enters the room that anyone seems emboldened enough to really speak. There’s a flurry of repeated introductions and a few pleasantries after Shotaro thanks them for coming. However, the chatter is instantly silenced when Sungchan enters the kitchen, shotgun in hand. 

“Uhhh, should we have brought our weapons with us?” The tallest boy who introduced himself as Gyuvin asks. 

Shotaro laughs nervously. “No, not at all! Sungchan just likes to be extra careful. But he’s putting it away now. Isn’t that right, Sungchan?”

The man’s response is not much more than a brief grunt before he disappears up the stairs. 

It isn’t until Sungchan returns that Shotaro urges everyone to get comfortable, allowing them to sit sprawled across the living room. He helps bring Eunseok bring out the minimal portions of meat and vegetables, clearly pleased with how everything has turned out. He’s quick to settle on the floor, not having brought out a serving for himself.

“Thank you guys for this, seriously. I know we already did introductions, but again, I’m Hanbin. It means a lot that you guys are willing to even be in contact with us.”

Shotaro smiles like he always does. Joohyun fights the urge to roll her eyes at his enthusiasm. Instead, she plays with the fingers on Wonbin’s left hand, leaving his right available to eat with.

“I think we’re all just glad to see people who aren’t trying to kill us, for once,” Shotaro admits.

“We don’t know that.”

“Joo.”

At the quiet scolding, Joohyun chooses to fill her cheeks with food. She can feel the subtle pinch of Wonbin’s fingers on the back of her hand, forcing her to roll her eyes. She knows that on any other day, Wonbin would be right there with her, dishing out shady looks and sarcastic comments. The thought that it has changed in front of these strangers makes Joohyun’s head spin.

“Listen, we get it,” Hanbin says after a moment of tense silence. “But we seriously just want to be cordial. It’s helpful to have allies, especially right before winter hits.”

“And you guys seem kind of cool,” Matthew interjects. “I like the whole deep brooding vibe you guys got going on. It’s like some real angsty shit! I dig it.”

A stunned silence falls over the living room, the only interruption being the clang of a metal fork against a bowl. Hanbin looks mildly horrified from his spot next to Shotaro, while other members of his group look equally shocked. Joohyun’s jaw clicks with the force of clenching it, scar on her cheek beginning to throb from the pressure.

It’s a deep chuckle that interrupts the silence, shocking everyone from their stupor.

“Fuck,” Sungchan laughs, hand over his belly. “I like you, dude.”

Wonbin pinches the back of Joohyun’s hand again as the entire room bursts into quiet laughter. He must have noticed the same thing that Joohyun has. It’s the first time Sungchan has laughed in months.

.         .         .

One year and ten months prior

Eunseok stumbles over his words, hands shaking with the effort to get them out. Sohee’s hand is smoothing over the expanse of the older’s back, as if his touch could physically ease the words out of Eunseok’s mouth. After a few more seconds of stuttered syllables, Eunseok visibly deflates, mouth snapping shut. Jaeri just smiles at him sadly.

“It’s okay,” she coos. “You’re making progress. Full words are gonna be coming out in no time.”

Joohyun watches the encounter from Wonbin’s side, tuning out the boy’s mindless humming. It’s become his habit, she noticed, to fill the silence with random sounds since everything started. At first, Joohyun assumed it had been to distract himself from the sounds of bombs and gunfire. Even when that passed, and the majority of the world died, she realized that the silence could be even scarier.

The air in concrete ruins that they’ve taken up shelter in are a little too warm for the spring, making for a comfortable home for the night. Despite the warmth, Shotaro is bundled up in a thick jacket, flat on his back on the dusty floor. Joohyun imagines that it’s far from comfortable, but comfort is a luxury they gave up when they decided to flee campus a few months ago.

The rest of their group is sprawled about the space, some talking quietly while others choose to stare into space. Joohyun can’t imagine that there’s much to talk about when they’ve spent the past few months practically attached at the hip. But by the enthusiastic smile on Seunghan’s face as he gushes to Anton, she guesses that some of them must have found something to discuss.

“We haven’t talked about it, you know,” Wonbin states, barely audible.

Joohyun doesn’t turn to regard the boy as she speaks. “Talked about what?”

“Seunghan.”

“Bin,” Joohyun sighs, looking around to see if anyone else has caught wind of their conversation. “I told you it was only one time, and that I was mad at you. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You never said that you didn’t want it to happen again. And you weren’t mad when I told you that I’ve also been in your shoes.”

Joohyun’s hands are balled into fists, broken nails biting the flesh of her palms. “So what? We both cheated on each other with the same person. That doesn’t mean shit.”

“Maybe it should.” Wonbin turns to face the woman. “Maybe I want it to.”

“For fucks sake, Bin! The world is over. Now isn’t really the time for wants.”

“Just because you won’t let yourself want more doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t.”

.         .        .

The neighbors end up being more personable than Joohyun expected. They joke and laugh, smile politely, and give calm input when appropriate. They even leave politely, thanking everyone before heading out in a single file line. It isn’t until the last one, Gunwook, passes through the door that Joohyun lets out a heavy sigh. 

Sungchan lets out a loud groan from the couch, where Anton is tucked under his arm. It’s odd for him to be so touchy lately, but Joohyun finds herself smiling anyway. It’s a glimpse into the Sungchan she used to know. 

“I can’t believe those were the first people we’ve spoken to in almost a year,” Sungchan mumbles, running the hand not holding Anton through his hair. “It was exhausting.”

“I thought it was kind of nice. And you seemed to like that Matthew dude,” Sohee chirps. “So sad what happened to them though.”

Joohyun sighs. “Yeah, as if I needed a reminder of what happens to women in times like these.”

Wonbin prickles from his place on Joohyun’s right. The hand that he had gently slung around her waist tightens into a protective grip, subtly bringing her closer to him. 

“You know we’d never let that happen to you, baby.”

“I’m sure they told their women the same thing,” Joohyun shrugs. 

“Princess,” Seunghan mumbles, crossing the room to stand in front of her, “no one’s gonna lay a finger on you. We would have no problem killing anyone who even thinks to get close.”

Joohyun can barely register the sound of Shotaro mumbling something before the other men are shuffling to leave the room. Seunghan and Wonbin still have her trapped between them, faces twisted into hard expressions that she hasn’t seen since Jaeri’s funeral. The weight of their stares forces her shoulders into a pathetic slump. 

“You know that, right, princess?”

Joohyun merely shrugs. 

“We would die for you, baby. Time and time again. No one would dare hurt you as long as either of us could help it.”

Wonbin’s lips are warm against Joohyun’s temple, lingering in less of a kiss and more of a secure presence. Seunghan reaches out to grab her hand in his, guiding it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her palm. The simultaneous press of lips to her skin is enough to have Joohyun reeling, a burning sensation spreading throughout her body. She fights the urge to break free from their grasps.

“I love you, Joohyun. We both do.”

It’s odd to hear her name spoken aloud. Neither of the men have called her by her name since before the world ended, choosing instead to use pet names to soften the blow of their words. This time, though, Seunghan’s words are sharp and piercing, slicing through the air with a finality that leaves no room for questioning. She wonders if Seunghan knows that doubts are blooming in the back of her mind anyways. 

“Seriously, baby,” Wonbin mumbles against her temple. “Don’t let their stories scare you. We would protect you with all we have. Nothing is ever going to happen to you, I promise.”

Joohyun fights the urge to scoff. The boys should know better than to promise anything in the end of the world. She’s sure Sungchan promised Jaeri the same thing. Clearly, it was a promise he was in no way able to keep. 

Joohyun squirms until she’s free from the grasp of her lovers, forcing a pathetic smile. “I’m going to go help Eunseok clean up.”

.         .         .

One year and nine months prior

“Promise me you won’t freak out,” Wonbin mumbles into Joohyun’s hair. 

The entire length of his body is pressed behind his lover’s, the few extra inches he has on her allowing him to rest his cheek on the top of her head. She hadn’t moved when he sidled up behind her, staring diligently ahead. They’re standing far enough from the edge of the cliff that they aren’t really at risk of falling. But Joohyun knows that one too forceful move could have them both tumbling. 

“I can’t promise you things like that. You know this, Bin.”

The man’s sigh is little more than a deflation of the chest behind her. 

“Fine. At least promise me that you’ll really think about what I’m saying before you respond. 

Joohyun nods. “That, I can do.”

“Okay,” Wonbin mumbles, inhaling deeply. “I want to date Seunghan. I want you to date him too. I want us to be together, all three of us.”

As promised, Joohyun is silent, letting her lover’s words truly sink in before responding. For a moment, her head is blank, mind fully absorbed in the sight of the thick woods that lay beyond the valley. Then she imagines all three of them trekking through those very woods together. 

Joohyun imagines Wonbin kissing her forehead while Seunghan holds her hand. She imagines stumbling into one sturdy chest while another comes to support her from behind. She imagines splitting one portion of food into three. She imagines watching as heated kisses are exchanged over her shoulder. She imagines crying as two funerals are held at the same time. 

“What does that mean for us?” Joohyun finally questions. 

She can feel the stutter of Wonbin’s heart in his chest. 

“It means that we just love one more person as much as we love each other.”

Joohyun sighs. “You already love him, though. Don’t you?”

“I do. And I think you do, too.”

The night that she spent with Seunghan flickers through her mind in flashes of heated kisses and skin on skin. He told her how long he had been waiting, how much he wanted it. He also refused to bring up Wonbin, kissing Joohyun harder every time she mentioned his name. Ten minutes was all it took for Joohyun to forget about her boyfriend completely.

In front of them, the forest is blooming with lush greens and colorful flowers indicative of late spring. The weather has finally warmed up enough for them to ditch their jackets, comfortable in light flannels and sweatshirts. There’s a cloud right where the top of the mountain kisses the sky. It kind of looks like a racehorse, diligently pushing forward.

“I don’t care what you do, Bin. But don’t speak for me.”

It takes a lot of strength for Joohyun to release herself from Wonbin’s firm grasp. Once she is free, though, she moves as far away as possible. She’s turning to go back to the cabin where the group has set up camp when she hears the faintest whisper of her lover’s voice.

“One of these days, I’m going to get you to stop running from me.”

Joohyun knows that she shouldn’t respond, that conversations like this escalate into unhealthy encounters that leave both of them sore in the morning. But she can’t help it, ankle twisted in a bear trap of her own making.

”You have to stop giving me things to run from first,” she spits.

Wonbin just chuckles, cold and bitter. “You’re running from yourself. That doesn’t have shit to do with me.”

All of the times where Wonbin has said the exact same pair of sentences flood Joohyun’s brain. Their first fight, then again on Wonbin’s birthday, then again when Joohyun gave him the silent treatment, then again at Anton’s party, then again and again and again. No matter how many times he says it, it will light a fire in Joohyun’s core every time.

”Fuck you,” Joohyun seethes. “It’s the end of the world and you’re just worried about not having enough holes to fuck. I’m not the problem here. Go be with Seunghan for all I care.”

Joohyun skips dinner, spending the entire afternoon and evening sitting by the makeshift fire pit on the side of the cabin. It’s warm enough that she didn’t feel the need to light it, staring instead at the pile of ashes at its core. It’s a shame that they look so close to how she feels, sullen and dejected. All of the fight has left her body, leaving her in a hollow heap on the ground.

It’s well after dark that someone approaches her, the sound of shifting soil under hunting boots being the only sign of their presence. Joohyun doesn’t look when they come to sit next to her, far enough that they aren’t touching, but close enough to share body heat. Even when the clear their throat, Joohyun’s eyes remain trained on the barely visible ashes.

”He told me you guys were fighting about me.”

Joohyun scoffs, somehow even more offended by that thought. “It wasn’t about you. Bin just acts like he hates me sometimes.”

”He loves you more than I thought was possible,” Seunghan protests. “It scares me sometimes. I’ve known him his whole life and he’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you.”

Except for you, Joohyun wants to admit.

”Listen, the world is fucked and you guys make each other happy. Don’t give that up over petty fights.”

Joohyun imagines that if Seunghan knew that their arguments were deeper than petty fights he wouldn’t be saying this. If he knew the way that they hurled insults at each other like knives and then soothed the wounds with kisses, he wouldn’t be encouraging them to keep loving each other. If he knew that he was a lone knife, twisting and turning where he has been lodged in both of their thoracic cavities, he would leave Joohyun to burn out like the ashes in front of her.

”Whatever it is,” Seunghan continues. “You guys should talk about it. Shutting each other out like this can’t be good.”

Joohyun knows that it’s what Wonbin deserves. He deserves a partner who will speak up when something bothers them, not someone who lets her grievances stew under the surface of her skin until they boil over in concoction of insults and curses. He deserves a peacemaker, someone who is content in giving and receiving love. He deserves Seunghan.

But Joohyun is selfish. And maybe, just maybe, she thinks she deserves a bit of him, too. 

.         .         .

The first snow is little more than a light dusting, but Anton is bouncing off the walls with excitement anyways. His eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him on the porch, causing Joohyun to smile. It’s easy to forget that just a few years ago, they all were calling him their baby. Times like now make it easy to remember. 

“This is like the perfect amount of snow,” Anton says in an overly muted tone. “I’m glad it’s fun snow and not fighting-for-our-lives snow.”

Joohyun makes a noise of agreement as she rocks back and forth in one of the rocking chairs. It was just last year when they had that kind of snow. It came down in blankets over the course of multiple days and shut them into the little abandoned camping store they called home. It also killed two members of their crew. 

Joohyun thinks that the two of them may have wanted to die. Eve and Lana were lovely people, if not a bit pessimistic at times. But when the snow hit, they both seemed to lose the light in their eyes. One day, Eve dug her way out of the snow and simply sat in the cold. Nobody could get her to come back inside, even trying to physically force her to. Within 24 hours she was gone. 

The next day, Lana went outside to sit next to Eve’s lifeless body. With a simple flick of a hunting knife against her own wrist, she sealed her fate. And when the snow finally stopped, their bodies were embalmed in a red-tinged ice. 

Joohyun shudders at the memory, feeling a deep chill in her veins. 

“It’s not even that cold!” Sohee exclaims, running out to the grass. He leaves behind delicate footprints, barely visible on such a light layer of snow. 

“It’s not, but you should still be careful,” Joohyun warns. “If you guys find a way to hurt yourselves, Shotaro will kill me.”

“I will!”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Shotaro slides onto the porch. He settles in the rocking chair adjacent to Joohyun, fully bundled up in a thick jacket and tattered scarf. His cheeks have taken on a rosy hue from the cold, giving him a youthful look that contrasts the deep bags underneath his eyes. 

“I heard you screaming last night,” he begins, just soft enough for Joohyun’s ears. “I was on my way to you when it stopped. I didn’t know the nightmares were back.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Shotaro sighs. “But we need to. Why haven’t you been sleeping with Seunghan and Wonbin, anyway? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

Joohyun presses her lips together tightly, letting them instantly turn white from the pressure and the cold. Something in the back of her brain is telling her to go back inside, but she tries her best to fight it. She knows that this conversation is long overdue. 

“I don’t like spending the night with them. It just makes sense for each of us to have our own space.” Joohyun shrugs. “Plus, the bed is kind of small for three people.”

“It’s bad enough that you’d prefer having nightmares to being with your boyfriends?”

Boyfriends. Joohyun hasn’t used that word in years, or at all in Seunghan’s case. It had always seemed a little too trivial for her liking. Sure, Wonbin was her boyfriend of almost four years, but it was different when Seunghan got involved.  They weren’t simply dating. They were lovers. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Joohyun mutters. “They’re so intense.”

Shotaro cocks an eyebrow. “We’re eight people left out of probably 10,000 on Earth. I’m sure your relationship problems can’t be that intense.”

Joohyun stands, long black hair falling in front of her face. A few strands tickle the scar on her cheek, which sends a zap of pain across her face. It’s enough to distract her from Shotaro’s apologies and requests for her to stay as she pushes her way back into the house. 

Sungchan looks confused upon seeing Joohyun enter the kitchen, hands halting where they had been twirling a Swiss Army knife. It takes Joohyun a moment to realize that her eye is twitching, which is likely what’s confusing the man. 

“Everything okay?” He questions. 

“It’s fine.” Joohyun winces as a sharp pain radiates across her face. “Everything is just fucking fine.”

.         .         .

One year and seven months prior

Joohyun punches with all of her might, knuckles crunching against the face beneath them. The man recoils, stepping back as blood begins to drip from his nose. She instantly scrambles for her backpack, unwilling to part from the supplies that the group is expecting her to return with. Right before she reaches the pack, a hand pulls her back. 

For a moment, Joohyun is okay with dying. It’s preferable to whatever else this man has in store for her. She talks about scenarios like these all the time with Jaeri, where you find yourself alone with a random man who wants much more than your supplies. She wonders if it’s going to hurt. She knows he won’t be gentle. 

The rough grip on her shoulder spins her around, briefly allowing her to take in the man’s twisted smirk and a bright glint of metal. She doesn’t register the sharp sting on her cheek until after she’s been pushed to the ground. 

“You fucking bitch,” the man seethes. 

The blood dripping down Joohyun’s face along with her sweat clouds her vision. All she can make out is the shuffling of her backpack and the sound of footsteps as the man runs away. She tries to move after him, falling back to the ground when her limbs protest in pain. At least it’s not the pain between her thighs that she was expecting. 

Joohyun’s vision grows splotchy, nausea swimming in her stomach. Thick, warm blood streams down her face before the world fades to black. 

When Joohyun comes to, the first thing she registers is the sharp throbbing pain in her face. It’s rhythmic, almost in time with the movement of her body. She opens her eyes to little more than a squint, the harsh glare of sunlight burning her retinas. A flinch is as far as she gets before she realizes she’s being held. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake! I’m gonna get you back to...”

Joohyun can’t make out the last bit of the sentence as she passes out again. 

A sharp pain in her cheek is what wakes her up. She flinches away from the sensation, but she can’t move far. Her eyes are weighed down as if they’ve been cemented together, preventing her from looking around the room. There’s a gentle shush, just barely audible over the rush of blood in Joohyun’s ears. 

“That was the last one. You’re all done now.”

It takes a lot of effort, but eventually Joohyun is able to open her eyes, blinking frequently as light floods her vision. As her view clears, she’s able to take in the smiling figure above her. He simply cuts a string before making a noise of satisfaction. 

“Taro?”

A sweaty palm on her shoulder stops her from moving to sit up. 

“Woah, don’t move. Your ribs are still pretty fucked up. And don’t speak! I don’t want you busting your stitches.”

“Stitches?”

Shotaro hisses, friendly smile morphing into a wince. “What did I just say? Seriously, just take it easy. I’ll go get Seunghan. He’ll explain everything to you.”

Joohyun doesn’t protest as Shotaro leaves the room, the various points of pain on her body finally registering. There’s the sharp pain on her cheek that throbs with every breath she takes. Then there’s the dull ache encompassing the left side of her chest, making each breath feel heavy and effortful. Her knuckles also hurt, but their hot throb is negligible compared to her other injuries. 

“Glad to see you’re awake, princess.”

Joohyun turns her head quickly when Seunghan enters, biting back a groan when her body protests. Seunghan’s gaze sweeps over her body, face twisted into a wince as he takes in her broken and bruised state. He’s still in the clothes that he wore when they left for the supplies run, so Joohyun assumes that not much time has passed. 

“Taro doesn’t want you to talk, but I can let you know what happened,” Seunghan says as he sits at the foot of the bench Joohyun is resting on. “I think he went to go get Wonbin, but I already told him. I forgot that motherfucker packs a punch.”

Seunghan brushes his hair off his forehead, revealing the dark reds and purples forming around his right eye. Dread instantly pools in Joohyun’s core. There’s no way Wonbin did that because of her. 

“I guess I deserve it, though,” Seunghan continues. “I should have never left you alone.”

“It’s not your—“

“Stop. You’re not supposed to be talking until your face heals up.”

Seunghan runs his hands through his hair again, obviously distressed. Joohyun craves to reach out and comfort him, but her ribs protest at the thought of moving. 

“So, I guess after I left to check the store across the street, somebody must have found you and tried to take your stuff. Instead of handing it over, you fought back. And then, he did this to you,” Seunghan clears his throat. “When I came back, you were passed out and your face was all bloody. He cut your face down to the fat, you know. So I carried you back with the flesh hanging out of your fucking face.

“Thankfully you’re okay, but…fuck. I should have been there to protect you. I’m so sorry that I left you alone. I understand if you never forgive me, princess. But I’m so, so sorry.”

Joohyun doesn’t register her tears until their salt stings the fresh stitches in her cheek. Despite the pain in her body, she reaches out to cover Seunghan’s hand with her own, using the last of her energy to give it a faint squeeze. The action finally has the dam breaking, and Seunghan crumples around a sob. 

“It’s not your fault.” Joohyun’s face stings with the simple sentence. The beads of sweat forming around the injury from the sweltering temperature drip down her cheek, pooling in the injury and adding to the pain. 

“It is. And I’m so, so sorry, princess. I already know Wonbin’s gonna hate me forever. And I understand if you do too.”

Joohyun shakes her head in protest, ignoring the way it makes the room spin. “He loves you. Me too.”

.         .         .

The kisses being trailed up the side of her neck distract Joohyun from the force claiming her mouth. It’s almost a competition of who can make her the most breathless. As Seunghan tangles his hands into Joohyun’s hair, Wonbin bites down on a particularly sensitive spot, causing her to moan at the dual sensations. 

Heat rushes through Joohyun’s stomach, core tightening as she shifts forward. The hard lines of Seunghan’s abs meet the softer planes of her stomach, made thinner by the lack of food. Wonbin’s broad shoulders almost encompass her from behind, pressing her further into Seunghan’s space. 

Joohyun lets her brain float away while the men love her body. Occasionally she flinches at a sharp press of fingers or lets her jaw drop open in an aborted whine. She can’t help but let herself lose all sense of space and time, the haze that encompasses her being all too welcoming. She can vaguely register Wonbin’s sweet smile as he presses a kiss to her temple and Seunghan’s short coo as he showers her with compliments. 

When the fog clears, Joohyun is once again sandwiched between two bodies, hands stroking over every inch of exposed skin. A dazed smile crosses her face, creating a dull ache around her scar. A press of lips against it soothe the pain before it can cut too deep. 

“You back with us, baby?”

Wonbin’s voice is much raspier, voice clearly worn from their earlier activities. The familiar gravely sound just makes Joohyun’s smile grow. 

“Yeah,” Joohyun clears her throat, “I am.”

Seunghan presses a kiss to the back of her neck, right above the clasp of her chain. Its gold color remains bright, somehow not faded over time. The small pendant in the shape of a bow usually sits right in the center of her clavicles. Now it’s shifted, laying askew from the night's activities. Joohyun moves to fix it with trembling fingers, sighing when gravity forces it out of place again. 

“Taro told us that the nightmares are back,” Seunghan whispers, lips still attached to Joohyun’s skin. “We didn’t know.”

A sharp pain tugs at Joohyun’s chest, forcing her to gulp down air like a fish out of water. “It’s not—it’s just not a big deal.”

“Baby, you used to stay awake for days because of them. Now you want us to think it’s not that bad?”

“That was different,” Joohyun protests. “That was before we found the farm. It’s better here.”

Seunghan sighs, a rush of hot breath tickling the back of Joohyun’s neck. “At least try sleeping with us more. Maybe that will help. I know being with Jaeri helped a lot, right?”

Joohyun shifts, attempting to pull away from the men she’s sandwiched in between. The tangle of legs seems endless, making Joohyun unable to identify where her legs end and where her lovers’ begin. The grip around her waist tightens further, keeping her in place. She struggles against it for a moment, heart racing in her chest. 

“Relax, princess,” Seunghan coos. “You’re okay. We’re just not ready to let you go yet.”

“We’re not letting you run away from us anymore,” Wonbin adds. “You’re safe with us. We just want you to know that.”

Joohyun has never imagined safety to feel so constricting. She never imagined safety as a weighted blanket but rather a gust of wind under wings. She never imagined safety to be a pull, but rather a push. She never imagined safety to be her two biggest desires, but rather never having the desire for anything at all. 

.         .         .

Their new neighbors stop by only after a particularly heavy snow storm hits and then clears. Hanbin claims it’s just to check on them and make sure everyone is okay. Joohyun holds her breath throughout the encounter, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’s almost convinced that the rest of the boys will come by with guns blazing in order to take them by surprise.

They don’t, of course. 

Hanbin, Taerae, and Yujin only stay for about an hour, catching up with Shotaro and Sohee. Joohyun overhears them talking about a supply run that will need to be made soon, someone even suggesting that both groups could come together to make it easier. A wave of nausea passes through her stomach at the thought. Leaving her closest friends in the hands of barely acquaintances sounds like the worst idea anyone could have. Her stomach lurches when she hears the faint sound of Shotaro agreeing.

After they leave, an odd silence is left filling the farmhouse. It’s not exactly silence, since Sohee has started to speak quietly with Eunseok in the kitchen. But it’s enough for Joohyun’s mind to fall blank, an inability to process sight or sound overcoming her central nervous system. It’s both a calming emptiness and an alarming constriction. She is only shocked out of her reverie when a figure bounds down the stairs, wood creaking loudly enough to draw her attention.

“You don’t look so good, Joo,” Sungchan whispers as he comes to a halt in front of Joohyun’s swaying form. “Are you feeling alright?”

Joohyun clears building thickness from her throat. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

”No, you’re not. Should I go get Wonbin?”

”No!” Joohyun doesn’t know where she found the breath to be able to yell. “You guys don’t have to call him or Hani every time you think something’s up.”

Sungchan sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat as he takes a seat next to Joohyun. The worn wooden planks sigh under the change in weight, greeting the man as he plops down. He’s quick to copy Joohyun’s position, knees pulled to his chest and head tipped back against the wall. His limbs are way too long and much too bulky to be constricted in such a position, but Sungchan doesn’t complain.

“Do you miss her?”

The question catches Joohyun off guard. Even though the “she” in question is unnamed, Joohyun has no trouble deciphering who Sungchan is referring to. The two of them had never spoken about Jaeri’s passing directly, and Joohyun isn’t sure that Sungchan has spoken about it at all. She imagines she should be asking him instead of the other way around.

“Of course I do. She was the only one who got what it was like to be a girl throughout all this bullshit.”

Silence.

“Do you?”

Sungchan lets out a loud exhale through his nose, lightly tapping his head against the wall a few times. It’s an odd rhythm, almost like a heartbeat. Joohyun is about to warn him about the possibility of a concussion before the man moves to speak.

“You wouldn’t believe how much I miss her. But I think more than that, I’m angry.”

“That those guys shot her?”

Sungchan lets out a short chuckle. “Well, I mean, yeah. But that wasn’t what I meant.”

Joohyun turns to the man, waiting for him to continue. His gaze is fixed on a random point on the opposite wall, eyes glazed over with a layer of unshed tears. Joohyun imagines that if she looks really hard, she can find reflections of Jaeri in his irises.

“I’m more mad that I wasn’t better to her. I didn’t treat her as well as I could have. I should’ve made the most of the time we had together.”

Joohyun never pictured Sungchan and Jaeri’s relationship as anything other than perfect. The two always looked at each other like they hung the stars, never fighting, never anything other than absolutely smitten with each other. Joohyun can’t remember a time when their relationship had any cracks or holes. The two stuck together as if they were the air they needed to breathe.

“But you guys were like perfect.”

Sungchan chuckles again. “We weren’t, at all. But I wish I didn’t see those imperfections as such a problem at the time. I wish I just said ‘fuck it’ and let all the minor stuff go. All that mattered was that I loved her and she loved me.”

”But it’s complicated,” Joohyun protests. “We’re living in hard-as-fuck times. Of course there were going to be issues. I’m honestly surprised we didn’t see any of them.”

“It is tough. But I should have been grateful that I had someone by my side throughout it instead of worrying about petty shit. Look at you, for example. You have two people who love you and will be with you through anything. That’s all that matters.”

“But—,”

Sungchan stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “Respectfully, Joo, there are no buts. It’s the truth. Take it from someone who lost their everything. They should be all that matters in this fuck-ass world.”

A distant chatter grows louder as two pairs of footsteps descend the stairs. Joohyun doesn’t even have to look around the corner to know who it is, being able to recognize their voices anywhere. But she does, unable to prevent the small smile that crosses her face at the sight of her lovers. Sungchan chuckles beside her.

“That smile is the only thing that matters, Joo,” he whispers. “Don’t force it away.”

Wonbin and Seunghan enter the small hallway just as Sungchan is getting on his feet. They barely acknowledge the large man in front of them, breaking into twin smiles when they lay eyes on Joohyun.

”What were you two up to?” Seunghan asks, reaching out a hand to help Joohyun off the ground.

”Nothing,” Sungchan chirps. “I was just telling Joohyun how much we all love to see her smile.”

Wonbin raises an eyebrow, head tilting in confusion. “I mean, we do, but—,”

”Don’t say but, Binnie,” Seunghan interrupts. “We all do love to see you smile, princess.”

Instead of wiping the smile from her face, Joohyun scrunches her nose, feeling the deep throb of the scar on her cheek. She struggles not to shrink under the two pairs of eyes on her, not paying any mind as Sungchan moves into the kitchen. She wonders if they can see the minute movement of her cheek in time with her heartbeat.

She just smiles harder and lets them look.

.FIN.

Part 1

[somebluemelodies]

almost gave up on writing this bc all my progress got deleted over a couple weeks ago but i am nothing if not determined (read: a stubborn shit) so i finally came back to rewrite cross-posted to ao3 here :>

As a kid, Roier was obsessed with the sea. He loved everything about it. Including the merfolk.

Every book about mer and their lore he could get a hold of, he read. They fascinated him to no end.

It's why he's never trusted the Federation. Why he never told his abuelo about his fascination. Roier knows what they do to the mer they capture.

His abuelo is a long-time Federation officer, and he remembers overhearing many a work-related discussion at night when he was younger, or reading his classified documents when he wasn't home.

The Federation "studies" mer, asking people that if they ever see a mer, to report the sighting to an officer. And by that, they experiment. All under the guise they preach to the public of "studying" them.

(Deepsea mer get it the worst. Labelled as aggressive, human-killing monsters, the Federation has made everyone fearful of them. Roier pushes everything he's ever read about a captured deepsea mer to the far back of his mind.)

(Surely they can't be that bad, can they?)

When Roier was old enough, he took off to live a life on the sea. A pirate, if you will, because that's what the Federation calls everyone smart enough to not conform to their overbearing ways. And he's been thoroughly enjoying his life ever since.

As it stands currently, he and the rest of the crew - friends, really - have been docked for a few days now for reparation and selling purposes. He tries to ignore the fact there's a plethora of Federation officers wandering the town, with a base of operations just outside of it, and instead spends much of his time wandering up and down the beach.

It's what he's doing this late afternoon. About to walk past a cave, a slight glint in his peripherals has him glancing into the mouth of the cave and freezing in his tracks.

Roier finds himself staring at a mer, who appears to be tangled in a net. Their tail almost looks black, but under the light of the sunset, he realizes the scales are actually the deepest emerald green he's ever seen. Looking around to make sure no one - no officer - is watching him, he slips inside.

His boots in the shallow water catch the attention of the mer, whose head snaps up at the sound. Piercing blue eyes almost seem to glow in the dim light, glaring daggers at him, and Roier freezes, holding his hands up. "I just want to help! I'm not here to hurt you or something. Can I help you?"

(Can the merman even understand him?)

The silent question is answered by the snarl on the mer's face gradually dropping, followed by a hesitant nod. His eyes continue to follow Roier closely, though, who tries to mask his surprise at the fact he's just been comprehended by a mer.

Kneeling next to the mer, he's able to make out more detail. Most notably, a bunch of scars, be it a long, thin one stretching across the bridge of his nose or the sheer amount littering his arms.

(It looks like there are more on his torso, but his arm is covering the lower half. Alarmingly, Roier swears he sees red underneath, too.)

(One step at a time.)

Roier pulls out his dagger, and starts the process of carefully cutting the merman free from the net. While doing so, he notices one signature detail of the net.

It's white.

"Did the Federation try to capture you?" he asks, sparing a brief glance up at the merman's handsome face. "And you managed to escape?"

(Focus. Focus.)

The mer nods. Roier sighs. "Fucking hate those guys, man."

He perks up a bit, as if to say "you too?" and the pirate offers a small smile in turn. But it fades after a moment. "I know what they do to you guys. It's not fair."

Silence befalls them, save for the slicing of his dagger against the net. It takes a bit, but he's finally able to pull the netting off of the mer and toss it off to the side.

The mer looks some semblance of thankful, although it turns to a grimace when he goes to move his arm that's been wrapped around his stomach this whole time, and it resumes its original place.

Roier frowns. "You're hurt. Let me see."

He doesn't move his arm, though, and it takes Roier gently prying it away so he can inspect the damage. Doing so reveals some type of stab wound, but from what, he isn't quite sure. It's not life-threatening, that much he also knows, but it's certainly bad enough to warrant concern.

(And he's very concerned.)

But he quickly realizes yet another problem. Said problem being that he has no medical supplies on him. Granted, he could go back to the ship for some, but that means either running into another member of the crew or worse... someone else stumbling upon this mer.

(Is it worth the risk?)

"Okay, bad news," he speaks up again. "I don't have any supplies to help you on me, but I might be able to--"

Roier is cut off by watching the mer reach for a satchel he didn't even realize the latter had. "Oh, shit-- Do you have your own supplies?"

The merman nods, but before he can take out any of the supplies on his own, the pirate is reaching out to take the satchel. "I can help you again," he offers. "It'll be a lot easier than trying to fix yourself, you know?"

He seems surprised by the offer, but holds out the satchel after a few moments, watching him with a look Roier can't quite decipher.

(Apprehension? Fondness? Incredulousness?)

(All he knows is those bright eyes are a lot less scary than they've been made out to be.)

The patching-up process takes a little longer than the untangling, and Roier has to light up the lantern he brought with him now that the sun has set, but he finally finds himself wrapping the mer's torso, sitting back slightly on his knees to inspect his work. "I think that should do it. Just... be careful, okay?"

Another nod, and Roier takes another few moments to study him. Between the glowing eyes and the scars, the slight rips in some of his fins, thinking about his initial attitude...

"Are you a deepsea mer?" he asks after a beat.

The mer freezes, watching him closely and seeming to scan him for any signs of hostility. Roier only looks back at him, though, making no subtle movements, and he finally nods slowly.

Roier hums. "I figured. But for all the Federation talk about you guys being ugly monsters... you look like the opposite." The merman looks stunned. "You're... very pretty, you know? Handsome."

(Beautiful, even.)

It's his turn to be surprised when the mer smiles for the first time. A relatively small smile, but one nevertheless, and it's one that makes something warm start to bloom in his chest, everything feeling just a little fuzzy.

The mer then picks up his satchel again, rummaging through it until he pulls something out. He grabs one of Roier's hands, holding it up and gently placing something smooth in his palm before closing his fingers around it.

(Roier mourns the loss of the brief contact, and then immediately mentally kicks himself in the ass for the fact.)

("Please be careful, okay?" Another nod.)

With the high tide coming into the cave, the merman is able to start making his way out with relative ease, sparing a brief glance back to Roier and waving before disappearing under the water with a glint of emerald under the moonlight.

For several moments, he stands there in silence, processing. And then, he looks down at his hand, opening it.

A sizeable piece of dark green sea glass rests in his palm, and he can't help the smile that etches its way onto his face.

The pirate carefully pockets it, and, on his way back to the ship, can only hope to whatever god is listening that this isn't the end, but only something just beginning.

[frog-doctor]

combined spr x homestuck brainrot has led me to begin classpeculating. SO. allow me to yap

i just wanna say scriptliss is absolutely doombound. like weve seen that guys life and its absolutely full of disaster and suffering . like he was in shackles at some point its not even subtle

id like to say hes a mage due to the sheer amount of brunt hes experienced from all sides of his aspect. genuinely i feel so bad for him he did nothing to deserve that much grief in his life ;; ljke yes he was an edgy little goober in pr2 but are we REALLY gonna punish him for having a little emo phase. dude just wanted to make the most of his immortality cmon man. BOOOOO pr2 protag 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅

tess is absolutely voidbound. hes a seer of void, inviting understanding through his aspect and going mad because of it, resulting in him succumbing to the whims of 1x1x1x1, the lord of void.

dusekkar is a space player, and a damn good one too. he created paper robloxia dude. we wouldnt have the damn story without him.

the only thing separating him from the lord class imho is the fact that the plot book was granted to him as a wish from sphara, and not something inherent to his existence. hes a potent space player, yes, but most of his narrative power comes from an artefact, leading me to believe hes someone moreso capable of handling his aspect with grace and finesse.

maids start out as relying on others for their aspect, and their challenge is to begin relying on themselves for it (thanks dahni). dusekkar relied on sphara granting him the plot book; now he does all the work himself. well. did, i suppose. until spr happened lmfao . so id peg dusekkar as a maid of space (heheheh made of space. pumkin head)

lanter is a time player because i said so. /lh

honestly? he just gives me time vibes. hes the typa dude whod march inexorably towards doom and he seems like a realist to me. plus he talks a lot about the past and about the future of robloxia, so im gonna put him down as a sylph of time. he understands it and invites creation through it, meddling (telling the player about dusekkars past) and inspiring the player to save probloxia from antagons clutches

rozanda is a thief of light. self explanatory.

wiscara is a witch of light. you cant tell me shes not jade harleys more ambitious, hyperactive cousin. like. be for real. shes kinda like rozanda . wacky but not downright evil

sphara? muse of time, i think. dont ask me why, it just works. she invites time and embodies it passively. shes a walking time capsule dude you cant tell me im wrong. also isnt she literally god also like . + in her death (COUGH really long nap) she invites wacky shenanigans throughout time (past, present, future) etc

antagon is a little shit, but more importantly hes a prince of sorts, taking a very active pessimistic destruction role in spr. im not quite sure what set of aspects he embodies, but im certain he either:

a) destroys life whilst shadowing doom

b) destroys hope whilst shadowing rage

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 6

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 7600

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Warnings: Language, Mutual Pining, A very mild jalapeno pepper in the beginning

Although this is an RPF, it is a character I created and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

-----

Sunlight filtered into the room through sheer curtains blowing in the gentle breeze. Birds chirped outside, greeting the day with a chorus of melodies. A peaceful sigh brushed the back of your neck. An arm wrapped around you, holding you close to the solid form behind you. A hand bordered on the edge of your shirt that must have ridden up during the night. Another grazed the back of your bare thigh, and another pressed hard against your ass. A soft moan escaped past your lips as you pressed further into it. You would have been content to stay here forever. Wait! Your eyes shot wide open. That was one too many hands.

You jolted from bed, now fully awake. Jensen grumbled but rolled over to the other side, not ready yet to face the day. Thankfully, it gave you enough time to get your shit together. Where were your pajama bottoms? You were a notorious chronic stripper. Always starting the night off with too many layers because you were cold, but as you started to warm up, thus commenced the unconscious removal of layers. It didn’t help that Jensen was hot. Like, temperature-wise. The guy was a fucking furnace. You weren’t concerned last night about it because you thought you’d be too anxious to sleep at all. Turns out you were so very wrong. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed.

Jensen sniffed, and the sheets rustled as he turned onto his back. The bedding became tented near the area you had believed was his third hand. Change of plans. You abandoned looking for your missing pajamas and opted for jeans and a sweatshirt. After a quick trip to the bathroom, you left on a mission to find breakfast and coffee, sure Jensen would appreciate the privacy to tackle the obvious, albeit impressive, situation on his own.

The town was bigger than Lebanon, but not by much. At least it was walkable. The downtown had one restaurant but didn’t open until eleven. Traffic was busy on the main stretch of the road, filled with trucks, semis, and livestock trailers. Tires squelched through puddles and mud. Across the way, loud mariachi music called travelers to a pop-up tent where there was a line of hungry patrons waiting. An intoxicating aroma of spices broke through the smell of cattle. You eagerly went to join the queue.

Forty minutes of walking, waiting in line, and waiting for food seemed like an appropriate amount of time to give Jensen. On the way back, to Anthony’s credit, you did peek into one of the empty rooms, which was completely stripped of wallpaper, carpet, and wood paneling. The furniture was pushed to one corner and covered with a plastic tarp. You knocked on your motel door. Jensen answered, having changed into black jeans and a Family Business t-shirt tie-dyed with bleach. His hair looked so soft, still free of product. It was the most unkempt you’d seen him, yet you craved to see more of his natural state. How he would appear on a lazy Saturday morning with no one to impress.

It was another morning with more uncertainty of how to start the day, of what to say, of what to address. Both of you stood there frozen in time, staring at each other. Though the storm had broke last night, a new one began to brew in the spaces between. There was a need to feel clouds clash against each other, to feel the shake of thunder, to watch lightning flash in each other’s eyes. It wasn’t only you who felt the flush of heat; Jensen’s cheeks visibly reddened, lost in the memory of a dream, wishing it had been reality. At any moment, the clouds would break, and the floodgates would release. Thankfully, you had the perfect solution.

“Breakfast burrito?” You held up the heavy paper bag as a barrier between the two of you. “I didn’t know what kind you would want, so I got one of each. There’s eggs and potatoes, eggs and chorizo, veggies…”

---

Jensen had taken the entire leg of the journey yesterday, so you insisted on starting the drive today. You rushed through, getting ready and eating breakfast, eager to leave the creepy motel behind. There was a minor traffic jam on 36, but it lasted only twenty minutes, and you were flying down the road once more.

Jensen finished his last sip of coffee. “Didn’t we listen to Led Zeppelin all of Thursday?”

You gasped. “This is Greta Van Fleet, you uncultured swine.”

It took him a second, but he got there. “Did you just insult me with a line from Toy Story?”

“It’s a good line.” You defended, “Why reinvent the wheel?”

“Uncultured,” He scoffed. “I’m not the one listening to a cheap knock-off.”

You continued the playful banter. “You sound exactly like all those cake-eaters on Reddit whose only knowledge of musical theory stemmed from listening to Entry of the Gladiators too many times at clown school. I enjoy it so I’m going to listen to it. Fuck the pretentious haters.”

Jensen chuckled silently, shaking his shoulders. “You’ve been holding that in for a while.”

You nodded your confirmation.

“Entry of the Gladiators?” He asked for clarification.

You used a series of “da da das” to sound out the melody of the iconic circus theme music.

“Ah, of course,” He recognized it not even halfway into the first stanza. “Who wouldn’t know that had a title other than ‘circus music?’ Clown school,” He chuckled again. “I’m going have to steal that line for future use.”

“It’s going to cost ya.” You warned.

“What’s the price?” He questioned.

You took your eyes off the road, studying his face. His finger was brushing against his lower lip as if offering them up freely as compensation. A wave of anticipation coursed throughout your body, landing in your toes. As you leaned closer, testing if he would meet you, you chickened out instead and adjusted the volume before focusing back on the road.

“The price is your admission that this is actually a decent song and that you’re somewhat intrigued.” You settled.

Jensen had not yet pulled away from leaning in. “Oh, I’m intrigued, alright.” He admitted but was talking about an entirely unrelated matter.

It was not even two hours once you hit the Colorado border, but this entire trip had felt like a lifetime of trying to reach an unknown destination that was finally in sight. The wooden sign read ‘Welcome to Colorful Colorado.’ The car slowed to a stop on the road’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Jensen complained. “We’ve already taken a hundred pictures this trip.”

But you were already halfway out of the car, bounding into the tall grass and wildflowers to get closer to the sign. “We’ve taken three!”

“Be careful!” He warned. “You’re going to get bit by a rattlesnake or infested with ticks.”

“Well then, you better come over here and protect me. I'm sure a big, strong Texan such as yourself ain't afraid of no rattlesnake."

The grass swished against his calves as he came closer.

“As for the ticks,” You continued, bravery rising up. “We’ll have to turn on some country music and see what Brad Paisley advises for those.”

He raised his arm above his head, leaned against the wooden post, and looked down at you. The intensity of his gaze normally would have made you turn and run or, at the very least, create a distraction to diffuse the tension. Instead, you stepped closer, a whisper away from him. The sun shone through the gap between.

Gravel and tires met as another car slowed, pulling off the road behind yours. Three girls piled out of the car, laughing and squealing at each other. Fuck. You stepped away from him.

“Hey,” One of the girls called. “We’ll take your photo if you take ours!”

“So it begins,” Jensen mumbled under his breath.

You didn’t understand why until they stepped closer. You raised your hand to shield the sun from your eyes. One girl was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt over a black tank, the anti-possession tattooed on their chest, one in a shirt that had the side profile of the Impala that read ‘The Winchester Brothers’ like it was an advertisement, the third’s shirt was just Jensen’s face everywhere in the style of a 90’s album cover.

The shock of realization crossed their faces slowly and then all at once.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” One repeated over and over while simultaneously hitting her friend’s shoulder.

The one subject to the abuse just stood there, mouth hanging open as if her brain was having trouble computing the reality of the event. The third gulped, wide-eyed, and turned a hundred and eighty degrees walking back to the car.

You snickered and whispered to Jensen, “Fight, flight, freeze.”

He snorted but then recomposed himself, calling over to them. “Y’all don’t happen to be traveling to Denver for a certain convention now, are ya?”

“Oh my god,” The fighter repeated again. “I told you it was going to be worth it.” She pulled the fleeing friend by her collar back to the group. “I told you!” She then directed to Jensen, “We’re huge fans of the show.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled as if the shirts didn't give it away.

The frozen one thawed. “Were you in Lebanon, like literally yesterday!?!”

“Sure was.” He said. “Did you see my note?”

Two of them squealed while the other said, “We must have been like an hour or two behind you.”

“Well, we are all here now. Should we get a picture or something?” He suggested.

“Oh my gosh! Yes, Please!” The one in the Impala shirt gushed.

You offered to take the photo, and as you were receiving instructions, one of them asked you, “So, are you like his… cousin? Assistant?”

Jensen was yacking it up with the other two girls. You looked him up and down, not sure what to define it as. Caught somewhere in between. Wondering if it would cement into something more. But then it hit you. This road trip was almost over. You were leaving him by the end of the day. You’d go back to your life and he to his. Who knew the next time you’d be able to see each other, let alone work on a relationship? If that’s even what he wanted. Was it what you wanted? Honestly, the guy might be looking for a quick fling. Again, was that something you wanted? Jensen felt your gaze and met it; his lips pressed together. Your brain spun from overthinking.

“Friends,” You sputtered out. “We’re just friends.”

Relief radiated from the girl, but you were more focused on Jensen, wondering if that sigh was a hint of disappointment. But god dammit! If he wanted something more, he was going to have to be the one to bring it up! Several pictures later of the group and singles, Jensen realized he needed to take control of the situation, or he’d never leave.

“Alright, alright.” He attempted to settle them. “I didn’t do my hair today, but one of those has to be decent, and there’s a dinner I gotta catch tonight.” He looked at his watch to sell that he was running behind.

They thanked him profusely, trying to draw out the moment as much as possible.

“Actually, can you get one real quick of me and… my friend… before we head out.” He asked.

Oooh. Was that as intentionally backhanded as it felt?

“Get over here.” He impatiently waved you over. “Wait, actually, do you have your phone? I think I left mine in the car.”

You nodded and handed it over to one of the girls, knowing fully well that his phone was in his back pocket; he just had the common sense not to hand his phone over to random fans. (Unless he was very drunk per your first encounter). Although you had been the initial one to want a photo, now that you had an audience, you didn’t know how to act. One of the girls had her phone out as well, possibly recording the interaction. You stood next to his side with your body angled towards him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. The girl with your phone counted down before snapping a pic.

“No, no, no.” Jensen complained and reset. “This feels too photo op-y.” He adjusted his jeans as he squatted down. “Hop up.”

“What? Jensen!” You protested.

“Don’t ‘What, Jensen’ me.” He argued. “You did it yesterday, and it was cute, and I’d like a picture.” He tried to encourage you with the wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t get all shy on me now. One way or another, I’m getting you in the air for a picture, whether willingly or over the shoulder with just your ass in the frame, which I wouldn’t complain….”

“Fine, fine.” You chuckled as you gave in to his demand.

His knees popped as he lifted you quickly, and you bounced in the air.

“Gentle,” You scolded. “I’m not paying for your knee replacement surgery.”

“Smart ass.” He bit his lower lip and pinched the underside of your thigh.

You shrieked with laughter, and Jensen turned to look up at you.

“Oh, that is adorable.” The girl called, taking a few candid shots.

“Just friends?” Another mumbled though the two of you were not privy to the conversation.

The third agreed. “How much you wanna bet he’s going to make an announcement tomorrow he’s off the market?”

“I’m not betting on a hand already lost.”

After several more moments of thanks and prolonging the experience, you finally made to part ways. You and Jensen sat in the rental. As you waited for the girls to take off, Jensen saying something about not wanting to be followed the whole way to Denver, you played with the filters on the photos and sent the best ones to Jensen. He then added the one of him next to the sign in Lebanon to Instagram. Later as he was driving down the freeway, you read the whole thing: If there was one word to describe this year so far, that word would be unexpected. The start was unexpectedly filled with chaos and turmoil, as most of you know, though maybe I should have seen it coming. But these last few months have taught me unexpected isn’t always a bad thing. It can come in the form of unexpected kindness from strangers, unexpected friendships, unexpected journeys, unexpected mysteries, and unexpected healing. All of which has led me spontaneously and unexpectedly back home. Oh, home, let me come home.

Though he had driven all of yesterday and you only had a couple of hours in today, he insisted on seeing you through to Denver. Though he teased you over your deplorable and sometimes downright terrifying driving, you thought it was really because he wanted to reinforce the driver picks the music rule. (You weren’t ‘that’ bad of a driver). It was sole stubbornness that kept him from admitting he liked Greta Van Fleet or confusing them for Zeppelin in the first place. Instead, he went for an indie playlist of his featuring bands like Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, The Flaming Lips, and Beach House.

The drive continued ever onward, and though Colorado did have some rolling hills, the bare wasteland and fields you had become accustomed to over the past few days drew you to the brink of insanity.

“Hey, Jensen.” You said.

“Yeah?”

“Clouds or Mountains?”

He thought on it for a second. “Clouds.”

Sure enough, he was right.

A half-hour, he prompted you. “Hey, Y/N.”

You only humphed a response.

“Clouds or mountains?”

“Clouds,” you grumbled.

A few minutes later and a new shape emerged on the horizon.

He asked again, “Clouds or mountains.”

You whined again. “Clouds.” And sighed a deep sigh before quoting, “I want to see mountains again. Mountains Gandalf! And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book.”

Jensen chuckled. “I always forget how big of a nerd you are. We should watch those movies together sometime.”

“Yeah, we should!” You concurred. “We can marathon them and have a hobbit day where we follow the meal schedule and everything. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon….” You listed off. “Tomatoes, sausages, nice crispy bacon,” You impersonated a few more quotes. “Malt beer, ripe meat of the bone.”

His stomach grumbled. “Ah, man, I'm hungry just thinking about it.”

“How?” You giggled. “You had three breakfast burritos.”

“Two and a half.” He defended.

“Hold on,” You said before unclicking your seatbelt and shuffling to the back. “What do you want?”

His tongue flashed over his bottom lip. After his dreams last night, you were the only snack he was concerned with. God, how he wished he had a few more days. Perhaps canceling on the con so you could keep driving wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You could just keep heading to Vancouver. He’d make it to set on time. Most likely. Okay, if he was able to have his way with you two days late, but it would be so worth it. You reoriented yourself in the front with your stash. “Goldfish, Pringles, and we still have a few pretzels.”

He was going to make his move tonight. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He was ready to take things to the next step. He was glad to have you as a friend, but he wanted more. From the moment you slid in next to him all those months ago at the brewery, he knew he was a fucking goner. Sure, at that time, he was as drunk as Jimmy Buffet in Margaritaville, but that instinct hadn’t lied to him. It held and only grew. It had taken him these past months and this road trip to build up this decision, to finally have the courage to act on it. He just wasn’t quite sure how to initiate it yet.

“Hey,” You called him from his thoughts. “You gotta help me with these. I really only want to take the granola and trail mix up with me to Estes Park.”

His heart immediately sank. Maybe he didn’t understand or hear you right. “Estes Park?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I actually got an unbelievable deal at the Stanley Hotel. You know, Stephen King’s inspiration for The Shining. Like such a good deal, the ghosts may be luring me there. So I may call you in a panic tonight and probably should get some salt on the way up. Oh man, how awesome would it be if you and Jared stayed there and made a little ghost hunter special? But I figured you’d be busy with the con all weekend, and we wouldn’t get to see each other much anyways, so I might as well make the most of being out in Colorado and hike the Rockies while I’m out here.” You rambled.

“Right.” His heart stayed in his stomach, remembering your early conversation about what you told your friends, not realizing it was a partial truth to them. “Cause how else are you going to have your meet-cute with some handsome lumberjack unless you trip over his fallen log?”

He meant it as a joke, but disappointment twisted inside you. So the kiss had been a fluke, and this morning was just a natural reaction. He wasn’t interested. It made sense. More so than what you had thought.

“Exactly.” You said.

Friends. You thought. Just friends, he thought, and his cheeks flushed. Simultaneously, you both swallowed a lump in your throat. The ride from there on was quiet. There was an obvious tension in the air. Not like the storm waiting to break as was before. No, this was more like when your grandfather brought up politics on Thanksgiving. At least you had other rooms to escape to then.

You played on your phone a bit, tried, and failed to read. The motion of the car and focusing on the stationary words was too much for your brain to process. Jensen seemed lost in thought. Like he wanted to say something but never was able to work it out. Maybe if you could tell him how you were feeling. Just let it all out. That you didn’t know how much longer you could handle the ‘just friends’ thing. It was pretty easy when thousands of miles separated you, but being so close together, it was near impossible to deny your emotions. At any moment, they could explode out of you. But you didn’t want to risk it. Didn’t want to make a mistake and lose him altogether.

“Hey, Y/N?” Jensen pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” You responded hopeful.

“Clouds or mountains?”

It was not what you wanted to hear, but at least some of the tension had lifted. You squinted and took in the hazy purple shape in the distance. After a few moments of analysis, your eyes widened. You softly and repeatedly slapped his shoulder in excitement.

“That’s a fucking mountain bitch!” You squealed in delight.

He laughed boisterously.

“We made it!” You proclaimed.

Jensen slipped into a British accent in an attempt to impersonate David Attenborough. But it came out more gentler, more breathy, and a higher pitch than his usual deep voice.

“After years of endless searching, the pair of travelers laid eyes upon their destination. The high peaks of the mountains are a stark contrast to the flat sea of plains they had battled tirelessly through.”

You melted, and a high whine sounded in the back of your throat. Jensen glanced at you and bit his lower lip as you quickly recomposed yourself. It was such a sweet and delicate noise. He wanted more.

“Little did they realize, the end of the great migration is only the beginning. The female will depart from the male to venture further into the hills, gathering resources for the nest. All the while, the male will be left defenseless against hoards of a terrifying new threat. Fangirls. If either of them survives the next perilous chapter, it will be nothing short of a miracle.”

He was unsuccessful at coaxing another whimper from you, but your giggle was just as pleasurable.

“Oh my god,” You chastised him with a chuckle. “You’ll be fine. You secretly feed off the praise and attention even though you act like a complete grump.”

“And what about you?” He asked. “I know you packed an entire walk-in closet, but do you have bear spray?”

“Bear spray?” You furrowed your brow.

He rolled his eyes at your lack of unpreparedness. “What about water? Do you have a camel pack?”

“I’m sure my water bottle will be just fine.”

He scoffed. “First aid? Gauze if you get a cut or need to make a splint?”

“Jensen,” You stopped him. “I’m going on popular trails part of the National Parks Service. If I run into any trouble, I’m sure there will be plenty of people around to help. If not a handsome lumberjack, perhaps a park ranger.” You added for the spite of it.

He clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to ignore the jab. “No, we are stopping at an Arc’teryx or, or Patagonia or something. Make sure you have all you need.”

Was he panicking? “Jensen,” You said his name again, hoping to ground him. “I have everything I need. I’ll be fine. I’ve hiked before. There lot’s of places back home.”

“But this is, like, the actual mountains.” He continued to argue. “Wild terrain, no cell service, bears, cougars…”

Your laugh cut him off. “I think you should be more worried about cougars this weekend than me.”

"This is serious, Y/N." He groaned.

"I'll be fine. I promise." You affirmed.

"Will you…" He started. He didn't want to be overbearing, and he knew you were fiercely capable and independent, but anxiety was getting the best of him. "Will you just text in the morning and when you make it back, so I know you're okay?"

"I'm sure you'll hardly be able to check your phone, but yes, I'll text you." You agreed.

"And take lots of pictures, so I can live vicariously through you." He added.

“Deal!”

The last leg of the journey remained quiet and calm, Jensen’s indie playlist providing a soft ambiance, even as the skyline grew heavier with angular earth jutting into the heavens. Even as Denver grew from a speck reflection of sunlight to a concrete jungle, neither of you could think of what to say. Your gold necklace glinted in the side view mirror, and the orange sun streaked across your face.

You had arranged with a rental company to come meet you at the hotel where the convention was taking place. That way, Jensen would still have a car, though you figured he may have a driver for the event itself. For the first time in this journey, an active map with actual directions had been pulled up to navigate the way through the city. Though now you were wishing you had encouraged his earlier plan to keep heading west. As the minutes counted down to arrival, your hearts grew evermore tender knowing soon they’d be parted.

Jensen pulled into a roundabout, a fountain in its center flowing into a garden of roses, through the archway leading to the hotel entrance. He put the car in park, but the engine ran idle. Both of you stared directly ahead, not quite believing the trip where time stood still was finally over.

An intrusive vibrating buzzed into the quiet. You looked down at your phone, notifying you the pick-up was here, as a black Malibu drove under the awning next to you.

“That’s my ride.” You said defeated.

Jensen nodded, and as the trunk behind you popped open, his door creaked as he exited the vehicle. You studied the lines in your hands as they lay in your lap, wondering if they held any insight into your fortune. If you could read them, perhaps they could guide you forward. But all you could do was sit with that same feeling as the morning you first left him. The trunk next to you slammed shut, signaling it was time to go. You scrambled out of the car but froze, facing Jensen, trying to discern the look on his face, not knowing it mirrored yours.

“Well…” He bumped his fists together. “This is it.”

“Yeah.” You agreed.

“Be safe.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh. “You too.”

Jensen pounced. It happened so fast your brain couldn’t process it until it had already happened. His lips worked hard against yours as you met his claiming pace. One hand wrapped around your waist, pressing you against his hard frame. The other wound around the back of your neck, leaving no room for escape. Your fists clenched the fabric of his shirt with such strength at any moment, it could tear. Gravity had no hold here as it felt like you were floating far above the atmosphere. Harsh clashes drew out into savoring breaths, and when you finally pulled apart, you found you were out of air entirely.

You looked up at him, your noses nearly grazing.

Ask me to stay, your eyes pleaded.

Please, stay. His heart begged.

Someone nearby cleared their throat, and you took a step back, color flooding your cheeks. Yet, still, there were no words to say to each other.

The Enterprise driver rolled down their window. “Lady, I got a schedule to run.”

“Right, of course,” You snapped back to reality as time and gravity came rushing back with an oppressive force.

Jensen rubbed his lower lip as if waking up trying to remember a dream.

“Thank you?” It came out as a question.

You didn’t know what you were thanking him for. The kiss, driving, paying for the hotels, maybe everything. Had you ever thanked someone after they kissed you? More people were around the entrance now; some under the awning, some looking through the glass windows of the lobby, and more than one had their phones out. Your chest began to tighten, and your vision blurred. Your mind grew evermore blank the harder you fished for something else to say.

His brow creased, and he tilted his head slightly. “You’re welcome?”

A high voice called his name, followed by another, and then a tank of a man came barreling over, mumbling to Jensen the need to check his phone more frequently. That he wasn’t about to have another Nashville on his hands. Without another word, you got into the car and drove away. Jensen’s eyes stayed fixed on you until the car was out of view.

---

The view on the way to Estes Park should have been stunning, breathtaking, and spectacular, but you were two-for-two. Two-for-two on leaving Jensen at a hotel and crying on your way to your next destination. And it was stupid. You shouldn’t be crying. You should be elated. It probably had something to do with tuning into a radio station playing that dreaded Neil Diamond song you couldn’t seem to escape.

He kissed you. Like, kissed you, kissed you. There was no mistaking it this time. Yet, he didn’t ask you to stay. He didn’t say anything. You knew what you wanted at this point. You wanted him. You wanted to try and make some sort of relationship work despite the distance, despite his status, despite everything. But you were going to leave it in his hands. He had to decide what he wanted and then fucking communicate it to you. With actual words, though, the lips had been enjoyable.

You chewed on your thumb, thinking things over. Maybe you should turn around and head back. Give him an opportunity to actually say what he was thinking. But then again, he was going to be so busy this weekend that you wouldn’t have time with him anyways. No. You were staying the course. You were a brave, independent woman and didn’t need to be hung up about some guy. When you booked this trip, you wanted to see ghosts at The Stanley and you wanted to see the mountains. So by god, that was what you were going to do. If he had anything to say, he could come find you.

The Stanley was impressive, to say the least. It had a glamor to it, feeling as if it stood still in a bygone era. The ghost tour was fun and spooky, and you even managed to catch an orb on camera, despite the rule, ‘no videos allowed.’ Though it felt lonely. You kept thinking of quick remarks to say to Jensen or feeling the same chill down your spine or how he’d undoubtedly say your orb was just a spec of dust yet secretly keep a box of salt close by that night.

Sleep was impossible. It wasn’t the scratching on walls or the footsteps above, even though you were on the top floor, or the swinging chandelier. It was the fact that he hadn’t called or texted. And yes, despite your horrible cell reception on the road trip here, you did, in fact, pay for cellular service. And it seemed to working just fine as you reconnected with friends and family ensuring them you arrived to Colorado in one piece.

You don’t kiss someone like that and not follow up! You buried your head under a pillow. You also don’t kiss someone like that and thank them. What had you been thinking? You weren’t thinking that was the problem. Possibly even had a panic attack given by the growing crowd. No wonder he hadn’t called you. What was he supposed to think? You tried to rationalize the thought process. You had shown gratitude towards the action, thus indicating you appreciated the gesture. But even you didn’t buy that.

An icy caress crept up your spine, sending shivers throughout your body, and you reached your breaking point.

You shot straight up. “Can’t you tell I am being haunted enough by my own idiocy!” Perhaps it was your own imagination, but the creaking floorboards seemed to settle, and warmth flooded back. “Thank you!”

You laid back down and pulled your phone out, staring at his number, the photos being the last thing you sent. You had to put a feeler out there.

‘Thanks again for an amazing trip! If you’re looking for a buddy on your next road trip, let me know. And don’t worry, the ghosts here are all bark, though I can’t say the same for those in room 217.’

You slammed your phone on the one-night stand and prayed sleep would find you.

Morning came quickly, too quickly. Your alarm cheerfully chimed you awake though you did not meet it with the same attitude. After hitting snooze twice, you regretted your decision to wake up early and beat the crowds. The sheets crinkled as you reached over, searching for Jensen, only to remember he wasn’t there. The realization was enough to get you moving instead of what you really wanted, opting for a lazy morning in bed with him.

Though it had been a struggle to pry yourself free from the bed, it had been the right call. Prime parking was still available at the head of the trail, which was starting to fill in even at this ungodly hour. The trail up to the Sky Pond was going to be a long one but worth it, or so you kept telling yourself. You double-checked your supplies, ensuring you had enough water, food, and a compass. To Jensen’s credit, you probably could have been more prepared, but you also didn’t want to be weighed down. You snapped a few pictures of the map at the start of the trail, just in case. It would all be fine.

Two hours into the hike and you had convinced yourself you made the right call. The landscape and views were astonishingly serene. There was peace and euphoria blowing like wind through branches, rushing like rapids of a river, sweetly singing like birds in the breeze, gasping like the lack of air in your lungs, dripping like the sweat on your brow. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but you just needed a second wind. It would be worth it, you repeated. And you were only thinking about Jensen every 500 feet or so. Progress. You had already passed Alberta Falls, and it had been spectacular. There was something healing about the sound of water. There was more to come, and it would be worth it, repeating the mantra of the day.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, so too did the heat of the day. Conserving water throughout the hike was essential, but staying hydrated was just as important. You guzzled down another few sips. As you rounded a bend, you hesitated, seeing the ascent. The backpack bearing weight on your shoulders grew heavier, and you adjusted the straps. Your breaths deepened, and a few crude words muttered from your lips as you prepared for the climb. If Nesta could do it, so could you.

Your legs shook as you started, already weary from the elevation gain. You wondered what it would be like at the convention right now. Would you be hanging out with Jensen? Meeting his friends and coworkers? Or would you just be milling about, waiting for the day to be over? Probably the latter. He had asked you to text in the morning, but he hadn’t even responded to your message last night. He was probably too busy with the day. Or just as confused about the kiss as you. The first time it happened, you didn’t talk about it, so why would now be any different? Whatever the situation, you bet if you were still in Denver, it would include air conditioning, less sweat, and the opportunity to read. But you could read at the lake and cool your feet off. If you ever got there. The mental games were becoming as big of a hurdle as the physical limits.

You were too in your head that when you hit the next rock, your foot missed it entirely. Landing on the step below, your foot slipped out from under you, and you came crashing down on your hip with a big thud.

“Fuck!” You cursed and then hissed through your teeth.

“Woah!” A voice called in the distance, and the sound of heavy boots beat against the rocky steps. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

You braced yourself to get up and were met with a helping hand. The green pants and khaki shirt were a dead giveaway for a park ranger. He was tall and broad with dark brown curls and soft whiskey eyes. His skin was darkened from days in the sun. And unlike you, he was barely breaking a sweat.

“Yeah.” You winced as he helped pull you up. “Wasn’t watching my step.”

“At least you can stand.” He said, “But let’s take a look anyways.” He crouched down beside you. “A few scrapes and you’ll definitely have a bruise. Can you twist your ankle?” You did as he instructed. “Bend the knee.”

You looked down as he tenderly applied pressure to certain areas. You confirmed the scrapes from the few bright red streaks traveling down your calve and brushed at the dirt that ran your whole length.

“All looks to be in working order.” He assessed, brushed off his hands, and started digging through his pack. “I have acetaminophen.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” You gladly accepted it and washed it down with water.

“Here.” He took his water bottle and ran it down your leg, clearing the cuts of debris. “You’ll want to clean that better once you’re finished for the day, but you should be fine until then. Where are you hiking up to?” He asked.

“Sky pond.”

“Ah, me too, actually.” He took his hat off to fan himself and ran his hand through his bouncy curls. “Someone has been messing with the trail cams up there, and I gotta reset them. Mind if I join you?” Maybe it was because you pursed your lips, he quickly added. “If not, I’ll hang back for a while and create some distance. It’s so peaceful out here I wouldn’t want to ruin…”

“No. It’s cool, we can hike together. Though I’m probably slower than you’re used to.” You said.

“Oh, I love a leisurely pace. So much to take in. Maybe even catch sight of the bear I keep hearing about.”

“Bears?” You raised your brows. “Yeah, you can definitely stick around.”

As you hiked onward, you learned a little about each other. Where each other were from, family, careers, hobbies. He moved out from Maine recently, but being stationed in the Rockies had always been a dream of his. The ascent finally leveled out a bit, and you were able to catch your breath.

“You have a partner back home?” He asked.

You chuckled.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… complicated.” You explained.

“Hold that thought.” He said. “There’s an excellent view back here most people don’t know about.”

He started in through the woods.

“So much for staying on the trail rule.”

He looked back and winked. “Perks of traveling with a ranger.”

“Definitely not impersonating one and preying on single hikers.” You teased but also voiced the concern in the back of your mind.

“And disgrace the badge? Never.” He smiled.

“I do have bear spray.” You lied and gripped your shoulder straps tighter.

“Well, I’m glad I came across you. I left mine down at the station. If we did come across B 712 I was going to yell real loud and hope for the best.” He teased back.

Despite the warning bell in your head, you continued onward, following him further from the main path. The forest cleared to a rocky cliffside overlooking a massive gorge carved from the very glacier this trail was named after. It made you feel so insignificantly small and at the very top of the world all at the same time.

“Wow.” Was all that came to your mind.

“Ah, don’t get too close to the ledge now.” His arm went in front of you like a mother who braked in the car too hard. “If you slip here, well…” He peered over the steep ledge.

You took out your phone and scanned the area with the lens. “Pictures never do it justice.” You said disappointed.

“I never get sick of the view.” He stated. “You should come back when the colors change, it looks like the valley is on fire. Sorry, you were saying earlier?”

“Right. Yeah, no…” You were flustered, wondering how much to share. “It’s just I really like this guy, and I think he likes me too, most of the time anyway. But I don’t know what he wants. And I don’t want to get hurt. So I’m kinda stuck in this pining phase, and I don’t know how to get out of it until he’s ready. I’m not making sense.”

“Hmm.” He pondered. “I mean, I’ve known you for twenty minutes I can say with certainty he likes you back.”

You rolled your eyes at the pass. “No, it's different. He’s like a big deal. Like a big fish in the ocean, and I’m a trout in a pond.”

“First of all,” He stopped you. “I hate that analogy with a passion. Second, If you’ve put him on a pedestal and he’s reinforced that in any way or hasn’t corrected that, he is not worth the time of day. No matter where you are in your walk of life, comparing yourself to other people never ends well. And using that comparison to deflate your own worthiness or happiness is going to lead to a self-fulling prophecy of missed opportunity.”

Wow, that was deep and stung a little. “Are you really a park ranger or a psychologist?” You teased.

“I listen to a lot of Brene Brown podcasts.” He admitted. “What, it gets lonely hiking up here all the time; gotta do something to keep the mind busy. You said he likes you; what makes you think that?”

“Shall I lay on this bolder while you connect this back to my relationship with my mother?” You gestured to the rock next to you.

“Fine, fine.” He retreated. “I have a knack for wanting to fix things; car engines, relationships, trail cams. Let me say this, and now that I’ve creeped you out enough, I’ll let you hike in peace, but you said you don’t know what he wants, but have you asked him?”

“Well… I…” You stuttered. “I’m waiting for him.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Because that’s what you do. The guy asks the girl. He makes the moves.”

He scoffed. “I guess that’s fine. I didn’t take you as being so old-fashioned.”

“I’m not old-fashioned.” You scoffed back.

He raised his hands in surrender. “It’s not a bad thing if that's what you want.”

“No, it’s just… this is in his court. It’s his move.” How could you explain the situation without giving it away?

“Two-for-two with the horrible analogies.” He pushed.

Oh, he was getting on your nerves. “He’s an actor! Okay! Like a somewhat recognizable one. And I’m just,” You gestured to yourself. “A nobody, covered in dirt.”

“Oooh. So it is the pedestal thing. Man, I’m good!” He leaned against a pine and crossed his arms smugly. “The way I see it, if you like him, and he’s given you all the signals back, you need to get over your own insecurities and open up a channel of communication, or you're going to be stuck in that small pond forever.”

Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “How?” You whispered.

“Simple. Tell him how you feel and ask him the same, ask him what he wants.” He suggested.

“And what if, what if he doesn’t want what I want? What if I lose him altogether?”

“It’s a risk, but do you really want to be trailing behind him forever? Putting your whole life on hold while you wait for him to catch up?” He pushed. “‘Sides, you know where I’m stationed, and I’ll make my intentions clear from the beginning.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “What’s your name?”

His grin widened, showing off his canines. “Why, you going to report me, sweetheart?”

“No.” You stamped your foot. “You are obviously entitled to a raise. I bet you find all the single hikers and help them with their existential crises.”

“It keeps me busy.” He bit his bottom lip. “The name’s Dean. You?”

You scoffed. Of course, it was. “Y/N. I think I’ll let you continue on your own from here.”

“I understand. I came on too heavy.” He sighed. “Should’ve stuck to the surface-level topics.”

“No, it’s not that.” You said. “It’s just I’m heading in the opposite direction now.”

You weren’t going to wait to keep hashing it out with him. A new determination had sparked. The branches snapped underneath your feet as you started the way back to the main trail. You wondered how fast you could run down a mountain.

“Hey, take it easy,” Dean called after you. “I don’t want to come back on the trail tonight to find you twisted an ankle on the way down. Where are you off to so fast anyways? Really taking those words to heart.”

“Denver.” You shouted back. “There’s a con I gotta get to.”

-----

Continue to Part 7 Here!

GHTTC Tags: @maggiegirl17 @foxyjwls007 @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510

[resident-idiot-simp]

I’ve always hated media interpretations of hope, usually its depicted as an innocent fragile little thing that needs to be protected regardless of what form it’s taken ie inanimate object, animal, human or just a concept. I actually like what they did with hope in the Percy Jackson universe but I won’t into details here for fear of spoilers.

I think Ghost as the God of Hope works really well because he (nearly) always survives regardless or in spite of what it will take to live like when he dug himself out of his own grave. None of it was pretty or kind and there are even moments where he is small and fragile but it feels earnt in the story and hearing still survived Hope has a nasty habit of springing back up even after you’ve squashed it.

I fell like people have a habit of writing Despair as some loud ugly thing that just lashes out and it can be that but it can also be silent and still or even seemingly happy it doesn’t always lead to steaming and crying I have literally seen people so sad they start laughing.

I’ve think Soap as the God Despair works so well as well because people also sometimes mischaracterise him as this happy go lucky guy who not as smart or as good at his job compared to the rest of the 141 and Ghost in particular, he may not be as stealthy as Ghost but he’s more destructive and I would argue smarter in a book sense way.

As Gods I’d say they both have a Grim determination to get the job done the difference being hope fighting for the end and despair fighting till the end.

One of the inspirations for this idea was the story of Pandora and the Alone mission. Soap opens the proverbial jar and lets out the nightmares when questioning graves on his and shepherd’s betrayal. Pandora was curios and opened the jar realising evil unto the world. Ghost stayed to watch over and guide Soap through a city being destroyed by monsters they’d previously helped. Hope was the last thing left in the jar and it stayed to protect and help humanity survive.

When questioned about Ghost staying behind to help Soap in Las Alma’s they both responded together and opposite eachother, Soap in despair felling alone and Ghost resolute always there.

This was supposed to be short lol

Side note imagine 09 Ghost Soap Persephone and Hades

I agree honestly it misses the whole point of hope smh.

OOHHH amazing reasoning absolutely agree with you. God and that is such a powerful connection and example. That even in the worst moments humanity will always succeed and conquer.

I have to it is a sight to see and so telling of the sheer lengths people can go and what they can handle. The amount of respect I have for people who suffer so much and can still smile is beyond words. My mom is disabled and was told she would never work again, but that woman got up and told the world to fuck Itself. She got better It's still hard and there are days she can't get out of bed, but she beat the predictions. She has chronic fatigue and chronic pain with fibromyalgia, she has a heart aneurysm we are keeping a close eye on and just beat breast cancer. She from what I have seen is the embodiment of hope and the strength of the human spirit.

Completely agree as does @azilver we talk about this a lot. People really don't understand Soap's character and it sucks. It's all a mask or if it isn't it is a tool in his arsenal so people don't realize how dangerous he is.

Again, completely agree.

YES, GOD DO YOU HAVE A LINK I NEED TO CONSUME THAT LIKE CRACK!

AGAIN, SPOT ON! That is such a good way to tie that line into the idea as well as a good basis on top of the already solid reasoning!

(HOLY SHIT!!!! OMFG YOUR RIGHT THE LIST IS BEING ADDED TO THAT IS SO BASED)

[starpirateee]

Fic request please

Ted finding Tinky in human form bloody and near dead in the woods. He has a choice. Save him or leave him to die.

Mind if I swear? That's one fucking brilliant prompt right there, jesus christ

"Fuck-!"

Ted's car screeched to a halt, throwing him forwards against the wheel a little more violently than he would've fancied. He should've known that there was no such thing as an innocent drive through the Witchwood, not even when there no intentions and the drive was just that. A drive. 

Whether it was some manifestation of his awful luck, or some rotten chance that found him in this situation, he didn't know, but somewhere along the line, he'd seen something in the road that wasn't moving from the road, and decided to put his car's brakes to the ultimate test, as he slammed his foot onto the pedal in an attempt to not hit whatever it was blocking his path.

As he regained himself and pushed himself up off the steering wheel, he realised that the thing in the road was a person, and not only that, but they looked pretty badly fucked up. he squinted out of the window, making sure that he was seeing things correctly, and then when his eyes confirmed what his mind thought he was seeing, he slowly got out of the car.

There wasn't a lot that was obvious about this guy in the road, other than the fact that he'd been rather dramatically injured. His blond hair was matted to his forehead with what Ted came to realise was blood, dying the ends of his fringe an alarmingly suiting shade of brown. There was no obvious wound to account for that much blood, but then again, Ted didn't exactly fancy the idea of lifting this guy's blood stained hair from his face to get a better look. 

That to say, he did lower himself closer to the ground, just to see whether he was still alive or not. It would be a damn shame if someone had gone and left a dying bloke somewhere in the middle of the Witchwood for no good reason, but if he were dead, then the question was again why someone had left him in the middle of the road, and not thought to bury the body... If they didn't want to get caught, they would surely do what they could in order to hide the evidence that they'd killed someone. 

He stayed crouched for a frighteningly long time before he saw the guy's chest heave and shake. Thank god, he was still alive. Barely, but what did it really matter in the grand scheme of things?

The stranger's eyes were screwed shut, but dried tear tracks lined his cheeks and gave Ted the all too correct impression that this was the work of someone else. 

"Oh, shit..." he muttered under his breath, daring to get this broken half-corpse into a better position so he could really see what was going on. His eyes darted over enough blood to make him worried, coming from wounds in his chest and staining the jacket he was wearing with viscous blooms of darkening red-brown. "Shit, man, what the hell happened to you?"

He wasn't expecting a response- part of him was expecting the guy not to survive much longer. If he died of blood loss, would that really be such a surprise? It had stained the asphalt, and by the looks of things, it was still going. he wasn't exactly the master of observance, but even he managed to notice that something wasn't right about the blood. From where he was, at least, it didn't seem entirely red enough to pass for anything. There was a strange, almost yellow tint to it, that he very nearly put down to his imagination, or the shocking amount of yellow the figure seemed to be dressed in. That was a trick of the light, surely. Surely the sheer amount of yellow on this guy's body- from the aviation goggles sitting bunched up in his hair, to the startlingly coloured work boots- was just giving him the impression that the blood was tinged in the same hue...

For a moment, the stranger fought to open his eyes. Ted wondered how he had the strength to even attempt to regain consciousness, but then he caught sight of a glittering golden colour behind his eyelids, and froze. There was something way too familiar about those eyes... And yet, he'd never seen anything quite like it before. Surely he'd remember if he'd met someone who's eyes were the colour of mustard... 

As he forced himself to think, the stranger tried to say something, but all that happened was the brief parting of his lips, and then a choked gasp. Ted couldn't make it out from just how he'd seen his lips move, but he had drifted back into unconsciousness before Ted could think to ask about it.

He glanced back towards his car, sitting a little way away from them and still at the offset angle he'd left it in. He probably had the space to let this guy lay out in the back, but there was the matter of trying to get blood out of anything. He didn't think he had anything to cover the back seat, which was maybe the only reason he was glad for his leather seats in the heart of summer. Blood wasn't such a bitch to get out of leather as it was vinyl. Maybe it was even slightly manageable...

Before he could try and position himself so that he could lift the stranger and be able to stand at the same time, there was a flash from inside of his mind, and he startled so hard he hit the ground again. It looked like a lightning storm, but an unsurprising yet incredibly fitting shade of yellow. His fingertips were stained in the yellow tinged blood, and his gaze managed to focus on that and that alone. He saw agony, imprinted into the walls of his mind and drawn out in this blood. He saw death, endless torment, and someone turning a corner in a pristine looking maze, only to slam straight into a wall with the next step. He heard laughter, that sent a deep set chill into his bones and straight up his spine. He flinched violently, scrambling back a few paces, even though he felt he should be aware that it was only in his head.

It was, wasn't it? The only people around for miles were him and this guy, and with the way he looked as if he was barely holding onto life, Ted didn't think he was the one who laughed. 

Something else struck his mind too, something that almost physically resembled the huge pendulum of an old grandfather clock. It hit the blood stained walls, cracking them in the same vein a wrecking ball would. It hurt, and Ted's hands shot up to his ears to try and bring some comfort to his aching temples. Gears wound against one another at the back of his mind, metallic and rusted. Ancient, yet somehow still functioning.

He winced. Whatever had built a clock tower in his head had pulled it from centuries past, with only the worst quality rusting metal that scraped and ticked against the other parts of the mechanism. He felt the need to scream, but he knew better than that. He knew better than to show his vulnerability in the middle of the Witchwood.

Was he crazy, or had something changed? In the time it had taken for him to get his head together (and the time it took for him to realise the pounding headache from the imaginary clock tower had completely vanished in a manner of moments), the stranger seemed to have moved to a different position, and there seemed to be something off about the road too.

He shook his head. No, he was definitely crazy, there was nothing else to it. He saw an injured man in the middle of the road, and everything else was... Well, it could be anything! A product of the woods, or something in the air.

Sure, he was a jerk, but was he so much of a jerk that he would leave this guy in the middle of the forest, to the elements and whatever the fuck was hanging around in this forest?

Apparently, the answer to that question was a resounding no. Before he could really think about it, he had lifted the guy into his arms, and had ambled back over to his car to drop him in the back seat. He didn't know what he was doing, he was no medic by any means, so the first and immediate instinct was to floor it to St Damien's and hope for the best when he got there. This was Hatchetfield, after all, it probably wasn't an unlikely occurence that people found someone in the woods bleeding to death with no explanation, right?

[neoaya]

Hot take!!! (Nuclear tbh)

People are way too shitty to the LW devs, especially Yumeno Rote.

This guy is responsible for every single piece of non-story card character art in the game, that includes units, costumes, alts, expressions, Music Video CGs, etc. Seeing as a new unit is released per week, along with 2/4 event costumes and 2/3 rebirth costumes at the end of the month, this guy is at MINIMUM drawing 8 fully detailed illustrations and backgrounds per month, for three and a half years straight.

The only other gacha to my knowledge that has one artist doing all the character art like this is Limbus Company, which even then has a significantly longer period between new art being added to the game. (I'm aware there are likely a lot more, but most to my knowledge have multiple artists)

So when I see a post criticising Lost Word, what do you think is being criticised 90% of the time?

Is it:

The fact it's a gacha game

Genuine criticism of the game itself and its mechanics or story

Hell, even criticism of the questionable work practice of having one guy do all the game's art

If you guessed 4, "near insignificant nitpick of Rote's art, AUs shown, or a VA (in a game where you can pick from 3 for every character) because it doesn't fit within their headcanon in a game about multiple different universes" you'd be correct!

Don't get me wrong, I have seen the first two plenty of times, but they're always either fair critiques or people who just don't want anything to do with gacha games and don't care which is understandable.

But for 4? The sheer amount of hatred and seething vitriol people express for details most people wouldn't think twice about is insane to me. It never seems to come from a sincere place of disappointment but rather fear to fit in, like "Oh this relates to me, I better lay in to it as much as possible since everyone else shits on it, wouldn't want to give people the impression I'm weird for liking it after all". It just seems depressing to me that people feel the need to act miserable out of peer pressure and not wanting to stray from the popular opinion.

As someone's who played the game since launch at this point I feel more than qualified to tell you it's FAR from perfect, hell I wouldn't even call it all that good. Gameplay fluctuates from playing the game for you to forcing you to have a full understanding of the meta, grinding is a chore, drop rates are far too low, the nature of the game forcing normally evil aligned characters to act more reasonably, and I unironically think the lack of representation and downright bad writing for Aya until now is singlehandedly responsible for making her drop by one place 3 years in a row in the THVote popularity poll.

So why do I still play it after all this time? Because I genuinely just want to see what they do next. I like seeing what new takes on characters they come up with, I like seeing where the story goes, what the next event will be and I love Rote's art and all the other art contributed by the JP community, I even think the Hifuu and RoM section of the story is genuinely good. It's nice to have a constant and reliable stream of Touhou media to read through in-between the wait for actual new games.

Somehow I don't feel that guy in the middle would want to come on livestreams 3 and a half years after launch if he didn't find it fun, same goes for all the artists and doujin circles that have contributed their art and music, especially those with more than one card or song.

If you want anyone to blame, blame GoodSmile for publishing this game and making this the complete extent they're willing to promote it and Touhou as a whole. (Last new character from them was a Reisen nendo from six years ago btw!)

In conclusion, I think LW has objectively done more good for the series than harm. You can not understate the fact that this game is responsible for introducing Touhou to so many new people and giving the spotlight to characters that are otherwise overlooked. Inaccurate character portrayals are rarely an issue when the series embraces differentiating itself from the source material, that's the nature of doujin culture. That and it seems silly to try and gatekeep people who got into the series through Lost Word, telling them they're experincing it wrong only serves to turn them away and I don't blame newcomers when official touhou media is still hard to come across in the west and the three most popular games in the series still don't have a digital release.

As a tangent, I used to have a problem with how Aya was depicted in a lot of fan media, even from people here, but a friend taught me I shouldn't let those alternate interpretations ruin my enjoyment of her and that I shouldn't fault them for seeing her that way. I feel others should be able to learn from that.

(I definitely forgot some stuff but this is ranty enough as is, I just wanted to get it out of my system)