#the way this post wasn't even really an exaggeration because this is how the sentence materialized in my mind

[drop-dead-dropout]

I like describing my affection for things in mild terms and I like sentence fillers and I like similes which unfortunately means I find myself using the word "like" like, WAY too often

[munnmolads]

Why we went to Hat Island anyway? Chapter 7 Analysis & Theory

Have you ever wondered why Rafayel wanted to go to Hat Island in Chapter 7? I wanted to make a more open-ended analysis of this chapter, but eventually maybe found one possible reason why Rafayel wanted to go to Hat Island - and then ended up yapping about this way too much.

Contains spoilers for Chapter 7, Chapter 8-1 and Gem Affection, as the explanation might be right there. Also small mention about Sea God myth.

Chapter 7 Rafayel and MC set sail towards Hat Island where supposedly, Rafayel is looking for protocores as for painting materials.

This exchange is very fascinating for several reasons. From Raf's tone, it sounds like he says 2 first sentences sincerely - especially the part about him needing the material from the protocore. But he exaggerates his gestures after about making it into a paint which sounds disingenuous and even MC sarcastically remarks on that.

My original intent with this post was to bring this to attention because the protocore Rafayel eventually finds from the Deluge Wyrmlord isn't mentioned again and many fans even seem to forget about it, especially considering how we spent half of this chapter looking for it.

First of all - why he would need it for paint? Is he actually lying about making it into paint? This protocore clearly was important to him since assumably he was willing to risk MC's life for it in the end of Chapter 7. Why it needed to be Deluge Wyrmlord, why the previous protocore he handed over to MC wasn't good enough for him?

I was ready to call out on this bullshit in more detail, but then I thought... What if he actually wasn't lying and truly needs the protocore for paints? We already know from previous chapters that he experiments with his paints a lot and used the coral stones to create illusions for Raymond.

How Gem Affection relates to this?

I have to admit my knowledge about the other LI's in the game is very lacking considering how in-depth I go with Rafayel - that's just how he occupies my brain. Anyway, to my understanding, atleast Xavier has time travelled to current timeline from his Philos timeline and I have heard there are some theories about the others doing the same, but I can't point any references to them. All this to say, this got me thinking about Rafayel and Gem Affection and how it might hint how he might have also tried to find ways to time travel.

If you aren't familar with Gem Affection, it's about MC and Rafayel starting to investigate some rumors about protocore fragments in the desert, and they come across a mural which MC resonates with. The mural throws them into an alternative reality, and they are stuck trying to find a way home. I'll try tp describe the events as well as I can but I'm leaving the dialogue sections below so you can follow along.

I touched briefly on how Gem Affection's AU seems to be the same as Abysswalkers (I really need to make that separate post about how similar these memories are) on my Sunshower post in Gem Affection, so I won't be going into too much detail on it now. Anyway, while they were considering their options, MC seems to realise that she could resonate with the mural again to return home.

After they find the mural, they realise that the mural has been covered and primed for a new painting. After a while, MC realises that it's not the mural itself that they need, but the paint itself.

So all in all, Gem Affection describes how (assumably) Rafayel created paints from protocore fragments to jump between different realities with MC as she is the only one who can activate these paints by resonating with them.

Maybe the material Rafayel needs in chapter 7 isn't actually a material in the protocore, but fragments of that protocore mixed in the paints. He painted them into the murals to keep them safe and recognizable.

If we look back to the beginning of the memory, MC says "rumors about protocore fragments" and that "once Rafayel heard about my mission, he volunteered to be my guide". Rafayel rarely accompanies MC to missions unless he has something to gain from it. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one to start these rumors. Why? Perhaps he wanted to try out if the paints work in the mural... Why otherwise he would be even interested in these caves?

Something that really also stuck out to me is that in both Chapter 7 and in Gem Affection MC makes the same "I'm not a three-year-old" comment. I really wonder if this is a reference for the conversation on the boat? I do think there are few other moments when MC says the same thing, but for now I can't think of any.

But how he would know to do this?

I really would want to say something else than "He's a god" but... Well, he is a god. I really want to know how much he can know about his future/past - In the Sea God myth, it's mentioned that the MC will help him see Lemuria's future. It could be possible that he knows he needs to hop on different timelines to fix things, just like Xavier does, or tries to alter his fate by trying to find alternative realities where he would find a way to save both Lemuria and MC.

Another plot hole of course is that what are the chances they would enud up in a timeline that would allow him and MC to return back to Linkon as normal... I'll stop thinking about this now...

At the very least, we should be more curious why Rafayel needed that protocore.

If we assume he did lie about using the protocore for paint, it also could be related to the N109 zone and the protocore auction where MC was going. Though atleast for me it sounded like he was more interested in a specific component from them instead of the protocore itself.

I'm getting way off track now, but speaking of N109 zone, I've been thinking about Rafayel and Sylus' connections and I really would want to talk more about it, but I'm bit too afraid about talking about Sylus since I genuinely feel I don't know enough about him to confirm a few thoughts about how they might be direct rivals with each other. This could be that Raf needed that protocore to get a better standing in N109 zone.

Back to the protocore - if it would be paint material, would it be then one of the components he used for Raymond's painting? Let's not forget - the painting disappeared from his collection when he died. Is he going to use the same method again to kill someone else?

I might do another post about the Chapter 7 events relating to Raymond's death, since the main story is so packed with lore, and I absolutely love Rafayel's involment in it even if it's kind of brief. Also I really want to break down the Nest encounter and what all that entailed...

[sundaybae]

Ok so first of all hi lol, very first time posting sm so the tags might be confusing...

But I really needed to rant about something that was bothering me in the JJK fandom !

I continually see tiktoks or fanfic about how Suguru and Gojo left Shoko behind and I don't know why I feel like it's a really simple way to see how it happened isn't it ?

Let me explain myself... I do agree that, indeed Shoko's friendship with the boys was different in nature but I've never felt like she was left behind. That's literally how real relationships works yk ? No matter how idealistic you want to be you'll always be closer to someone, than another, or it can be multiple person idk.

Gojo and Getou were close because they were similar, they got each other etc whereas Shoko often stayed in the school because of what she decided to pursue.

It did not necessarily mean that they did not love her or see her as a friend ! Take an example : you are in a friend group, you love all of them no? But more often that not you'll feel better with one or two person in it, it doesn't mean you do not love the others, it do not mean you wouldn't defend them or sm else, it simply mean that you see yourself do sleepover or shopping with these "special" friends a lil more... There is nothing taboo, that's just relationship complexity ig ?

I mean I even saw ppl saying that Gojo and Getou deserved what happened to them ( chap 236 if yk yk...) Bc they left her behind, and TF ???? Nobody deserve that whether or not they did leave someone behind, which is not even the case here !

But anyway that's why I don't feel like they left her behind ...

And for the ones saying that Gojo wasn't as close of her than Getou I still don't see what's the problem of that lol ???? LIKE I SAID FRIENDSHIP IS MORE COMPLEX THAN THAT EVEN MORE IN JJK !!!!!

I also searched what sparked this whole thing and it's bc of this one sentence Shoko said : What about me?

Please do not take it out of it's context, she says it after Getou explained how nobody was there, so I don't really see the link between her status in this friendship and this lol

She clearly says this to empathize that she's angry Getou did not see her as someone he could talk to . She does not refer to his relationship with Gojo at any point ????

Anyway, it kinda pissed me off yk, cause I'm pretty sure that if the team was composed of Gojo, Utahime and Shoko everyone would laugh their ass off if Utahime banned him from sleepovers or from coming shopping, eating with them, EVEN THOUGH THAT IS BEING LEFT OUT

I swear I'm not trying to be sexist, I'm a woman myself but really this double standard sometimes riles me up lol

I'm not saying my interpretation is the whole truth tho so please do not insult me, I won't respond, I'm not a Shoko hater AT ALL, I love her, it simply shocked me how her fans could exaggerate a situation that even her do no acknowledge as existant 🤷‍♀️

Anyway love you all jjk fans 😭💘

[katlover14]

Jump scare waring! Old art!

Eek! What did I DO to her?! Oh, geez. It's not awful, but definitely makes me cringe when I remember I drew this February 23rd of 2022, only two years ago.

If you don't know who this is, congratulations!

.... Kidding, kidding!

It's supposed to be my fluffy princess, Serafina, as a human. Only, at the time, I hated drawing bodies, so I only did her head. This is what my actual cat looks like (pictures sent to me by my lovely YOUNGER, but taller, brother):

(Where the hell is her tail in both these photos-)

She's... actually, I don't know what type of cat she is. I think she's a tabby with a Tortoiseshell pattern, but idk. Can you see the resemblance?

Yeah, me neither.

It took me 1-2 hours to draw the older version of my cat as a human. But I updated her look today and I'm really proud of how far I've come in just two years!

Ah- whoops. Wrong picture.

Hold on, I found the right one.

There's my fluffy-tailed, short haired, green eyed, short fur baby! Look at the improvement from the first image! I've even started doing different eye shapes! Again!

Ahem- so you may notice she's got nothing on her neck. I mean, she's MY cat. Shouldn't she has something on that has my number on it in case she gets lost? Well, about that... my actual cat lost her collar with her ID years ago, so I don't draw her with any because of that.

Y'all might be wondering what's up with her look. My actual cat looks so sophisticated compared to the drawing with a ripped shirt, right?

She does. But, alas, she's a cat. An outdoor-indoor cat to be exact! And the third wildest cat I remember owning (I don't wanna talk about Charlie and Ziggy here). She acts like she's a starving stray cat, so I dressed her like one.

There are hearts throughout her design because I love her and she loves me. Proof? She ignored my brother (not the one that took those beautiful pics) when he was calling for her two days ago. But I -- two-ish minutes later -- went outside, said "Serafina!" in an exaggerated way and she came right up to me. Really showed my bro who she loves more.

Extra stuff I drew:

Close-up of her tattoo.

She gets extra fluffy in the winter.

I wanted to draw her pants (I like giving characters cargo pants), but then drew a foot to show that she doesn't wear shoes. And, yeah, my cat really doesn't wear shoes. They don't match with her tortitude (Tortoiseshell-attitude. They all have it).

She has a small part in Eynx's design, but I didn't comment on it because it doesn't resemble any part of her human design right now. If you think I'm weird for drawing my cat as a human, just know I wasn't the first to draw my pet humanized and I won't be the last! Thanks for the compliment, though!!!

(This post was brought to you by M. Lover, the only twin with enough braincells to write coherent sentences)

(The jokes were brought to you by Kat Lover, who laughed for three minutes at her own jokes while her twin shook her head in disappointment)

[tamlindain]

I get why you find it unreasonable for everyone to hate Dain and ofc ur allowed to have that opinion but have you considered that Xaden has quite a powerful mind reading signet that he might not be able to turn off on instinct whereas Dain had a choice to read Violet’s mind and touched her in that way many times which led to her not even considering he would do that without consent.

He follows the rules and it’s good for people to follow the rules but there’s a point where enough is enough. His excuse for not wanting violet is the rules, he didn’t believe her because of his fixation on rule following.

It may be beneficial that he suggested that Violet go to her dream quadrant where life is not threatened on a daily basis but eventually it’s practically in every sentence he says (im over exaggerating Ik) and eventually it just sounds like he doesn’t see all the hard work she’s done and how much she’s struggled to earn her place in the riders quadrant and when she has achieved that he continued to undermine her success. Thank you for reading this if you have and I’m not trying to tell you you’re wrong just bored, saw your post and decided to do something less boring. Sorry for bad grammar I’m tired after maths tutoring lol.

I believe Xaden's signet lets him choose if he can read minds because he says to Violet that he stopped reading her mind as soon as he realized he had feelings for her and didn't want to do it anymore. Which makes it pretty clear he has enough control to pick and choose who's mind to violate. So unless we think he lied about that to Vi, we have to assume he has enough control.

I never said Dain being a rule follower wasn't annoying, just that when Vi didn't follow rules with her combats, the narrative cheers her on (her poisoning her opponents) but as soon as Cat broke rules while fighting Vi, Vi and her friends got indignant and angry. So why does Vi get to have some kind of monopoly on rule breaking? Cat can't break rules against her but Dain must, for her?

Which makes it pretty obvious that the narrative is blowing up the mistakes of characters we are not supposed to like, while brushing off mistakes of those which we are. This kind of gaslighting from the author to sway audience minds is something I really detest in any media I consume. Its okay, I can see you are not trying to tell me I am wrong, happy to discuss civilly, but trust me, I know Dain isn't perfect. It's the hypocrisy which bugs me, both in the fandom and in the narrative.

Edit: I also think it's hypocritical to say Dain was not fair to believe Vi about his friend Amber while Vi also never trusted Dain over Xaden and her new friends. It's unfair to think Dain didn't have reason to believe Amber, he'd known her for over a year and I think it's fair to not blindly believe something bad said about a friend he'd known that long.

Thank you for the ask!

[dimplyowl]

This is exactly why I called it “breaking my silence.” Because no one who has a criticism about Con can ever voice it without being called a bully. Because I know for a FACT that there are people who don’t like his rendition but pretend to because they don’t want to get jumped on. Like I’m sorry that I wanted to vent. About a thing that drives me crazy. And that apparently you all took that to mean “I have the only right opinion and everyone who disagrees is stupid and wrong.” Sorry for not slapping every other sentence in my original post with “this is my OPINION btw”, because it was for venting. And idk about you, but when I vent about something, i dont exactly worry about everyone taking everything I say completely literally because it’s VENTING.

YOU even mentioned expression under "there is so much more to singing then just being able to hold a tone", this is again more a question of taste so you’re welcome to a different opinion but you have to get over the fact that TO ME and a lot of other people Cons vocal expression is great and just makes me FEEL things. 

That's fine, you're allowed to have your own opinions. Music is subjective. To a point. But I can tell you that I personally was never very good at being expressive in performances, and you can bet I got notes on it. And if I had performed the way Con did, I absolutely would have gotten notes on expression, breath control, diction, pronunciation... I don't think it's too much to expect that a professional actor who is getting paid to do this to actually excel at it. Especially since it's prerecorded. And I assume they would have done multiple takes. You're allowed your opinion, and you're moved by his performance. I'm allowed my opinion, and I wasn't. And I listed the things that I would have liked to see done better (or done at all) for me to like the performance. Again, my opinion.

not even a vocal trainer?, your "source" is “I took singing lessons”? Everyone can do that, that says precisely nothing about your own qualification.

Again, this was a vent post, I wasn't really expecting anyone to interact with it, I didn't realize I need to give an outline of my education and experience. It also was a bit of a joke that apparently you missed.

Being a classically trained vocalist is miles away from “I took singing lessons.” It’s the difference between saying “I can speak on biology because I have a degree in biology” versus “I took biology classes.” It means that I’ve been trained in vocal techniques like mouth placement, tongue placement, breath support, posture, projection, vocal balance, etc etc. I’m not trying to sound superior, I’m just trying to say that I know more about this topic than the average person. Is a geologist being superior by citing their degree in order to speak on a geology-related subject?

“then don’t read it! How entitled are you to think that every fanfic author in this whole entire fandom has to agree with your taste in music? Don’t like it? Don’t fucking read it”

Yeah I generally don’t. But I can’t exactly avoid it when it’s not really something that can be tagged??? It’s something that tends to just pop up in fics??? And I wasn’t actually saying that I think everyone needs to bend to my whims or some shit. I was expressing something that annoys me. In an overly exaggerated way. Not every sentence needs to be taken literally. Like if I said “ugh I hate nuts in brownies, brownies should NEVER have nuts in them” I’m not actually saying that everyone needs to stop putting nuts in their brownies because I said so. I’m saying I don’t like nuts in brownies, this is how much I don’t like nuts in brownies.

“‘I’m not saying that Con doesn’t deserve this one’ -except you literally just DID”

I didn’t. I said that people win awards who don’t deserve it all the time. I said that to indicate that having won an award for something doesn’t necessarily give credence to an argument, in general. Not necessarily to this particular situation. I didn’t fucking say Con doesn’t deserve this award. I said maybe he did. I don’t know because I haven’t seen it, and I don’t really want to tbh, but I don’t have to see a performance from 40 years ago to critique a performance from last year. Like I said, voices change. Skill levels change. Especially if you’re not actively working on keeping them up. I don’t know what Con’s vocal practice looks like, or if he even has one anymore, but I can tell you my personal opinion on this performance, based on my own education.

It’s not hateful to vent about something that bothers me without specifically saying that this is my opinion on it, and we’re allowed to have different opinions. It’s not hateful to outline the reason something bothers me. If you interpreted my tone as being superior or aggressive or “everyone should have my opinion”, whatever that means, then fine. I don’t care. I do care about being called a bully when I was venting about something that bothers me, speaking generally into the void of the internet, having tagged it appropriately as a critical post, not expecting anyone to interact with it. That “don’t like don’t read” goes both ways. Don’t like a post, don’t interact. Just block and move on. The block is there for a reason.

Okay I’m breaking my silence. Con’s voice is not good. His rendition of La Vie en Rose is bad. And grating. And his French pronunciation sucks. Sure he can hold a tune, but there’s so much more to singing than that that he doesn’t have, or isn’t trained in. Timbre. Intonation. Expression. Resonance. Breath control. Source: I’m a classically trained vocalist.

There. I said it. If I see one more fic talking about how beautiful/gorgeous/amazing/whatever Izzy’s singing is, I’m going to throw something. Surprising is fine. Because it was surprising (and out of left field) for Izzy to sing. But beautiful, it ain’t.

[seidenbros]

Ok.. you are the BEST WITCHER WRITER OUT THERE !!! Seriously, your posts are fabulous and they make me so happy! ❤

So I take the advantage and shoot something over again 😊 Let’s go for another Geralt one (cause come on he’s a bomb). Maybe where you’re a couple and traveling with him and it’s all fine until he meets Yennefer again so you start getting jealous somehow and feel in the way as you see how they react with each other. So you leave the camp one night to clear your mind when the other sleep, but you get attacked and hurt. When Geralt sees you’re not there as he wakes up he freaks out and searches you, just to find you barely hanging on. Then he tries all to save you and realizes that his behavior was not the best but you are the one for him forever? Is that weird ? I hope not haha I looove fluffy Geralt so much ! (also I really hope I don't annoy you with sending another idea)

First of all: Let me love you!

Second of all: your message really made my day/week/month

Thirdly: You don't annoy my in the slightest with sending another idea, I always LOVE these messages, so you're always welcome to send something in 💚

Then I have to apologise that it took me so long to write this, but covid really had me down for more than a week and I'm still exhausted rather quickly, but at least I'm able to write. And writing this was so much fun, even with all the angst woven in, so I really hope you enjoy it 💚

(Requests are open, and if you need inspiration, there are some prompt lists to be found)

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Warnings: bit of blood and violence, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

Word count: 3188

____________

Only in the darkness can you see the stars

“Well, well if it isn't my favourite Witcher.”

You hear a voice behind you and turn around only to be met with the most mesmerising eyes. She didn't have to introduce herself, you knew who she was. Yennefer of Vengerberg. The two of you had never met before, but you'd heard stories – some had been told by Geralt himself, but not all of them. Yennefer wasn't a topic he spoke about frequently, but you knew who she'd been to him.

Geralt turned with you, but let go of your hand. Whether it was due to turning around or because of Yennefer, you didn't know, but you had a weird feeling about this.

“Yennefer,” he said with a tone in his voice that was usually reserved for you. The smile that lit up his face was a rare occasion as well. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm staying with a friend for a few days before I move on. What about you?”

“Just passing through. Hoping to get a room for the night.” You'd just arrived and hadn't yet had the chance to ask for a room at an inn, but that was next on your agenda.

“I think you're out of luck. They're all booked. There's an event tonight, so there are no rooms left.”

“Fuck.” Geralt sighed and pinched the back of his nose. He didn't have a problem with setting up camp for the night, but after weeks on the road, you certainly deserved a nice, warm bed.

“And you are travelling together?” Yennefer pulled him back from his thoughts and looked at you, a warm smile on her lips.

“Right, sorry,” Geralt apologised, putting his hand between you shoulderblades as if to push you forward a little bit. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” you finished the sentence for him, as if you'd just found your own voice again. “I've heard a lot about you on my travels. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Maybe, that was an exaggeration, because you didn't know what to make of this situation, but you were certainly curious to get to know her a little bit better, see what all the fuss was about.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Yennefer replied, still keeping her smile in place. “You should join me for dinner, catch up. My treat!”

Geralt didn't even look at you before he agreed. You weren't mad at him, in fact, this sounded like a good opportunity to get to know her better, but you wished that he would have at least asked you before agreeing.

In the end, the dinner with Yennefer wasn't exactly something you wanted to repeat. Most of the time, you felt like you were in the way of the two of them. Now and then Yennefer asked you something, and while you were happy to answer her questions, you felt like Geralt pretty much ignored you, his eyes on Yennefer the whole time. It was understandable, she was beautiful after all and the two of them had a certain history, but you just wished that you didn't have to witness this. Geralt could have gone without you, or could have told you that you're just the second choice next to her, because it certainly felt like it.

You didn't blame Yen at all, because she was wonderful to you. Geralt on the other hand... It was painful to say the least.

Only when you'd said goodnight to Yennefer and were on your way back out of town to set up camp, did he speak to you.

“You've been awfully quiet tonight. Is everything alright?”

You couldn't see the worried look on Geralt's face, because you weren't able to look at him right now, tears brimming in your eyes, so you just sped up a little bit.

“Yeah, just tired. I need some sleep.”

It was the perfect moment to tell him what was going on in your head, how you were feeling, how he'd made you feel, but you kept your mouth shut. Right now, you weren't sure whether your feelings were valid, or if you were making a mountain out of a molehill. After all, if Geralt still wanted to be with Yennefer, he wouldn't be here with you, right? Well... you still had some doubts about it.

“Mhh,” Geralt simply responded, but kept his eyes on you, watched you intently. He knew that something was up, but he didn't know what. He'd give you some time, because pestering you about it wouldn't get him an answer.

Without a word you set up camp and tried to not look at Geralt. As soon as he'd lit the fire, you got in your bedroll and took a deep breath.

“Good night, Geralt.”

“Good night, sweet one.”

Usually this term of endearment made you smile and steal another kiss before bed, but not tonight. Your head simply wouldn't shut up about Geralt and Yennefer and it was driving you mad. You tried your best to fall asleep, but even after hours, you hadn't succeeded. Geralt on the other hand was lying peacefully on his back, fast asleep. For a moment, you watched him, but that didn't help you at all. You needed to clear your head, so you got up, wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and walked towards the stream. Being near the water had always helped you calm down, so you were hoping that it would do the same this time.

Fresh, cool night air filled your lungs when you took a deep breath and sat down on the stones next to the water. The moon was reflected in the water and for a moment you found yourself simply watching it. You tried to clear your head, think of nothing, but it didn't really work. Instead, your eyes filled with tears again. You didn't want to cry, but you couldn't keep them from coming. You'd thought that you were happy with Geralt, that he loved you, but right now, you weren't sure. Not after you'd seen the way he'd looked at Yennefer.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, until you heard water splashing and what sounded like footsteps. Immediately, your eyes opened again, you scanned your surroundings, but couldn't see anything.

“Hello? Geralt?” you called out, but it wasn't Geralt you saw a moment later.

Geralt woke with a start because he heard a scream. It couldn't be far away. It didn't take him long to see that your bedroll was empty, and immediately his stomach plummeted. His initial fear had been that it had been your voice he'd heard, and right now, he was pretty sure that he'd been right. Without wasting any more time, he got up and reached for his sword before he followed the noises.

What he saw when he got there, sent his blood boiling. There was too much blood, your blood, and you weren't moving. A drowner was leaning over you, but looked up when it heard Geralt. He lunged at the beast, tore it away from you, before he went completely berserk and slashed the monster into pieces. He was full of rage – some of it directed at himself for not asking you what was really going on with you and for not realising sooner that you were gone.

He was covered in the drowner's blood, when he came back to you, carefully looked you over, and swore under his breath. He could hear your heartbeat, slow and weak, but it was still there, so not all hope was lost. Your injuries were bad, and there was only so much he would be able to do. Geralt needed help, and he knew just the person he could ask.

With you in his arms, he quickly ran back to your campsite, managed to get you both on top of Roach to get you back to the town. He knew where Yennefer's friend's house was, so he hastened to get there.

“Yen!” he yelled even before he'd gotten off Roach, not a care in the world whether he woke up the neighbours. “Yennefer! I need help!” He yelled again, gathering you up, before he brought you to the door. Before he reached it, it already opened, and Geralt sent a prayer to Melitele,

“Are you out of your fucking mind, you moron?” Yennefer asked him in a hushed voice, tying her robe around her, before she cast a look around, but it didn't look like anyone had woken up apart from her. Then her eyes fell on you and she froze. “What happened?” Suddenly awake and sober, she ushered Geralt inside and into one of the rooms.

“Drowner,” he managed to say, carefully putting you down, his eyes never leaving your body. “I knew something was up, but I didn't want to push her to talk to me. And then she left the campsite in the middle of the night.”

“You really are a moron, Geralt.” Yennefer sighed, before she pulled your ripped clothes aside to get a better look at your injuries, but then decided to cut them off your body, because she needed better access to your body.

“What do you mean?”

“You pretty much ignored her all evening and you're wondering what is wrong?” Yennefer shook her head at the blatant ignorance of that man.

“That's not true,” Geralt objected. Or was it? Right now, he wasn't so sure anymore.

“If you say so... this is not the moment to start a discussion. Get me some clean water. Now!”

Geralt did as he was told and assisted Yennefer as much as he could. He couldn't lose you. Not now, not like this, especially because he blamed himself for everything that had happened tonight. It was his fault that you were here, that you were injured, had nearly lost your life. Yennefer was right, he hadn't paid attention to you all evening, too focused on the mage, because it had been some time since they'd last seen each other.

“Come now.” Yennefer's voice ripped him from his thoughts, her hand on his forearm made him look at her. “She needs some rest, and you need a bath my friend. When she waked up and sees you like this, she'll probably faint.”

When, not if. That one word already made the tension in Geralt's shoulder ease a little bit. Yennefer was right. He was covered in guts and blood, some of it yours, and he didn't want to scare you away as soon as you woke up.

After a bath, after washing off all the dirt and guts and blood, Geralt tried to get some sleep. He stayed close to you, where he could keep an eye on you, but at one point, exhaustion took over and he really fell asleep.

The next morning, he woke to a wonderful smell that made his stomach growl. Slowly, he sat up, but before he went and followed that delicious smell, he came to your side. You looked so peaceful, apart from the bandages around your body, the small scratches in your face. But you were alive, that was everything that mattered right now.

It was hard for him to leave your side, but he had to say thank you to Yennefer, so he left for the kitchen. She'd already prepared two plates with breakfast.

“Good morning,” Geralt said once she turned around to him.

“Morning... You look like shit.” Always the charmer, but her words made Geralt's lips twitch up in a little smile. “Were you able to sleep a little bit?”

“Yes. Not much, but a little.”

Yennefer pushed one of the plates towards him and gestured for him to sit down. She did the same and started eating. After a moment of silently eating, Geralt eventually spoke up.

“I don't know how to thank you, Yennefer.”

“Oh I do,” she said with a smirk and leaned back.

“I was a moron, I admit that.” Geralt knew what she wanted to hear, or at least part of it. “You were completely right. I don't even know why. I should have included her more, but seeing you after so long, was just...”

“Strange. In a good way.” Yennefer nodded, because she felt the same way. They had a past, but they'd separated for a reason. It didn't mean that they couldn't be friends, they just hadn't had the chance to try that until now. “I've seen the way she looks at you. Like you're the one who put all the stars in the sky just for her.”

“If I could... I would do that. She's the most wonderful person I've ever met and she deserves the star.”

“Then tell her that. Make sure that she knows exactly how you feel when she wakes up. And tell her that nothing will ever happen between you and me again. We're better off as... friends. Or whatever you want to call this.” She hid her smile beneath her cup, but Geralt knew that it was there.

“Friends... sounds good.” They'd have to try, see if it worked out, but he agreed that they would never get romantically involved again.

A low moan drew his attention away from Yennefer, making him get on his feet in a matter of seconds. When he got to you, he saw that your eyes were open. Relief flooded his body, even more so when he took your hand in his and felt you give a little squeeze.

“Hey, sweet one,” he said quietly, sat down on the side of the bed and scanned your body. “How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody tried to rip out my insides,” you managed to say, voice coarse. Geralt reached for the water to help you take a sip. You needed some water and especially food and he'd make sure that you got everything you needed.

“That is pretty much what happened. A drowner got to you. I managed to get you here and Yennefer helped you.”

Upon hearing Yennefer's name, you stiffened slightly, took a deep breath. You were thankful to her, of course, and yes, you'd overreacted last night, but hearing her name right now, still managed to get you a little worked up.

“Listen, Y/N, I'm sorry for yesterday. I never wanted to make you feel unwanted or anything like that. I shouldn't have excluded you like I did, and that wasn't my intention at all. Seeing Yennefer again was just like meeting and old friend, and it was kind of exciting to hear what she's done all these years. But that's what we are. Friends.” He had to make sure you understood what he was saying, what he meant with that. “You're the one I love, you're the one I picture my future with.” However that would turn out, he didn't know, and he really didn't want to think about the day, he'd inevitably lose you, because you wouldn't live forever. But he wanted this, wanted one lifetime with you more than an eternity with someone else.

Tears were welling up in your eyes, as you reached out your hand to caress Geralt's cheek.

“I love you, too.” Carefully, you pulled him down to kiss him. “And I'm sorry. I should have said something when you asked me yesterday. But I just thought, I was being irrational about this, but I just couldn't sleep, and-”

“It's okay.” Geralt stopped you, smiled down at you, but leaned in for another kiss, before he kept going. “Just promise me, that you talk to me when something is bothering you next time. I thought I'd lost you, and I didn't know what to do. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“But you saved me. And I'm not going anywhere.” You leaned up to him, wanting to kiss his lips, but the pain in your upper body pulled you back down.

“Easy, sweet one. You still need a lot of rest. Yennefer said we can stay here until you're better. If that is alright with you.” He didn't want to make that decision for you or force you to stay here, but it was the safest option right now.

“It's very generous, and I don't really think I can travel like this. So I'd really like to thank her for that offer.” Now that Geralt and you had talked, you didn't mind staying here with her, because you trusted him. In addition, you'd loved listening to her stories the night before, so you'd enjoy hearing a couple more.

As if she'd heard you, Yennefer appeared at the door with a try laden with breakfast and some herbal tea for you.

“You need some food, and that tea will help as well.” Yennefer walked up to the bed and put down the tray before looking at you again. “It will take some time for you to heal, but it's not as bad as it looks.”

“Thank you,” you said, reaching for her hand. “Really, Yennefer.”

“You wouldn't be here, if it weren't for that idiot, who got you in that situation in the first place.”

Geralt grunted and rolled his eyes. It was all friendly banter, but her words still held some truth.

“If he'd been a bit more considerate of you, this wouldn't have happened.”

Her words managed to make you smile. You were both responsible for what had happened last night, but it wasn't good to dwell on that too long. Instead you'd rather concentrate on the good things.

“Has he always been like this?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Yennefer rolled her eyes, earning another grunt from Geralt. “Why don't you check up on Roach, give us some time to talk?”

He knew that he couldn't win an argument right now, so he got up, placed another kiss on your forehead before he left the two of you alone. He knew that you were in good hands, so he didn't need to worry.

“He really does love you, you know?” Yennefer said when she turned back around to you. “And you don't have to worry about us. We're trying this whole friends thing now, but he's never looked at me the way he looks at you.”

“What do you mean?” Carefully, you sat up a little bit so that you could eat some of that delicious breakfast Yennefer had created.

“Like you're the sun, the moon and the stars all rolled into one. The one thing that lights up his entire being, his whole life.” Yennefer put her hand on top of yours and smiled at you. “You two are meant for each other.”

Yes... yes you really were, because he was all that for you as well. Now even more than before, and your trust, your faith in him had only grown this morning.

[parkerpeter24]

saturday, 4 am

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

w.c. ➳ 0.5k

warnings ➳ angst. so much and only angst.

summary ➳ it’s a saturday night. a 4 am conversation with peter, but it’s not what you think.

a/n ➳ i was contemplating not posting this honestly but when i decided that i did wanna post it, i wanted it to be so misleading <3 do not hate me, and enjoy reading! i wrote this for tasm!peter basically but it would work with any peter tbh!

you’re a little shaken by how it begins but you are holding up pretty well. you’d even considered complimenting yourself for not falling to your knees or screaming your lungs out until the muscles in your throat give in.

you never wanted to confront peter about such a topic but to your horror, the nightmares were all coming true. you thought about it all the time, and it wasn’t an exaggeration of it. now it had become true and all you can do is keep your eyes to the ground as peter tells you the whole story.

“y-you know i was really not myself after... the incident.” he mutters out, still not being able to talk about the death of his uncle, an event from seven months ago. it was understandable. uncle ben was like a father to him and when he died, you noticed peter starting to drift away from you. at first, you tried to be next to him at every time possible. whenever he refused to leave his room, whenever he refused to have food or water, you tried to always help him through his grief but when he specifically asked you to leave him alone for some time, you understood and gave him his space to mourn.

“yeah.” you simply reply, nails pulling restlessly at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, which was originally supposed to be his. you so want to be done with this conversation and are convinced he wanted it much more than you. but if so, he isn’t really making a move to cut it short.

“and gwen was there for me and i.. i just don’t know how to explain but-”

you clear your throat, cutting peter’s sentence short, “i get it.”

“wait, r-really? you do?” peter looks at you, his gaze never really had left your figure in fact, with such soft eyes as if you’d break if he stared any harder.

you nodded, “gwen was there and i wasn't.”

“what, n-no, no, no, that’s not what i meant at all, (y/n) you have always been there and i-”

“clearly, i wasn’t there enough.” you gulp, looking past his shoulder as his hazel eyes finally catch a glimpse of your tear filled ones and another layer of guilt embraces him.

“please, (y/n), it’s not your fault.” peter pleads, eyes swimming with concern, not wanting to leave you alone because of the fear that he might not be able to see you ever again. not like he did till now anyway. he didn’t wanna lose you and even after everything he’s done, a part of him is still infatuated with the idea that you might wanna stay friends.

“you should go, peter.” you juxtapose his thoughts.

“please, please let’s talk about it.” peter finds himself reasoning with you, standing his ground somehow with the way his legs are shaking.

“i wanna be alone.” you whisper. peter caught it obviously, with the super-hearing and whatnot. sometimes he wished he could have mind reading as his power so instead of hearing everything you said, he would just hear everything you meant. as if that would have made this situation better.

your words finally register as peter nods his head and clutches his bag tighter around his shoulders. with heavy steps, he finally leaves your room, shutting the door behind him and even though you make sure to wait a good ten minutes before you let yourself sob out, peter still hears you from outside your window.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist | masterlist

@httphollands @the-girl-in-the-chair @spideyspeaches @prancerrparkerr @usergarfields @theglitterymess @quaksonhehe @lowkey-holland @starlight-starks @piscesparker @incorrectsourwolf @wildxwidow @blankspaceblankday @raajali3 @kelieah @arvinsvintage @parkersdahlia @icarusafety @uwiuwi @tommyfroggie @saturnpeter @ellabellabus07 @comfort-reads @holland-styles @glowunderthemoon (sorry not sorry fay <3)

[greatwyrmgold]

I understand that. The story of Akane and Kana and the others is being told through the medium of anime, obviously. I attempted to articulate two different criticisms of how OnK does this, which overlap in the details of stage acting.

First, the nitpickier one, which I identified as a nitpick in the first clause of the first sentence of the first post. OnK presents these events very anime-conventionally, even when anime conventions make no sense in the context of a stage play.

It cracks my personal, nerdy suspension of disbelief. It's also less interesting than doing something more unconventional, mimicking stage-acting more than anime-acting. And that's absolutely possible! Theater relies on exaggerated body language more than facial expressions because it's physically impossible for the audience to read the latter; anime relies on exaggerated facial expressions more than body language because it's harder to convey emotion with body language alone.

Second, the more serious one: The story of theater actors suffers if that story simultaneously focuses on their acting choices and does not explain their acting choices. You seem pretty convinced that this isn't the truth, so I'll break out the analogies.

Let's say that you've got a shonen battle manga. (The Akane/Kana conflict has some serious "non-battle battle anime" vibes, even when they aren't literally acting as battle anime characters fighting each other.) Your hero is a spunky friendly dude, the villain is a selfish loner villain; common setup.

Imagine that the two of them are fighting. The villain is clearly stronger, the hero is losing ground. All of a sudden, though, the villain starts losing ground, until one last heroic punch knocks him to the ground. The villain shouts "How could I have lost to the likes of you?!", and the hero says "Because I have friends!"

Does this story beat work? Kinda. You can parse what's going on. But it's weak. We're told that the power of friendship is behind the hero's sudden turnaround, and that's it. Real shonen battle manga finds ways to show friendship affecting the battle, or at least explain it better. The hero uses lessons his friends taught him to beat the villain, or the hero pushes himself harder when he's defending his loved ones, or there's a Spirit Bomb thing, or just make it a team battle.

Acting in the Tokyo Blade arc is basically just two characters hitting each other until one loses. We're told that Melt's acting sucks, that Kana and Akane are acting in completely different ways that they're very good at, et cetera. But OnK doesn't bother to explain what makes one actor better than another, how any of this works.

That wouldn't be a problem if the characters' acting wasn't a major part of the Tokyo Blade arc, but it is. We're clearly supposed to care about Melt's subplot, about him getting better at acting, which is undercut by not understanding why his acting was bad in the first place. Kana and Akane are clashing over acting style, but we don't have any idea what this actually means.

What do you see, Aqua? Because Kana is giving it her all. She's working really hard to make the show better.

Whatever Kana's doing here, she's doing it as hard as she can. What's the difference between shining that spotlight on Akane and shining it on herself? Not clear.

What are you doing? Like, you're not literally dragging her into the spotlight. Kana has her flaws, but stage fright isn't one of them.

You're going to convince her to change her acting from one style we don't understand to another style we don't understand. How? Who knows.

I guess we'll just wait while the villain beats up the hero. The hero will start beating up the villain eventually. Maybe we'll even get an explanation of how afterwards!

This is an extremely nerdy nitpick, but it bugs me that Oshi no Ko focuses on facial expressions during the Tokyo Blade stageplay.

This crazy eye-roll is a very dramatic expression. Sakuya is really selling Monme's madness with this look. But he's not performing to a film camera five feet away and zoomed in for a close shot. He's performing to these guys:

Can you see Kana and Taiki's facial expressions? Can you see their eyes? No! Even audience members in the front row would struggle to see such subtleties, even when the actors aren't on scaffolding five meters above the stage.

Theater isn't just a different way for actors to tell a story. It is a fundamentally different medium, requiring a fundamentally different style of acting.

Bringing a bunch of film/television actors like Aqua and Kana and (technically) Melt into an environment where their acting skills are largely irrelevant could have been interesting. Emotional acting isn't enough; you need to express those emotions in a way the audience can see. But instead, we get this.

There are two people on stage. One of them is noted as being a really good actor, the other as having basically no talent and barely any skill. Can you tell which is which? No, because this scene was not storyboarded to convey the action to an audience which could only distantly see the actors. It was storyboarded to look like an action scene that's unusually far away.

It drives me up the wall that the anime director spent so much time showing scenes from the audience's perspective, showing how distant the actors are and how hard it is to read anything, then proceeded to direct the rest of the stage scenes as though this was a Tokyo Blade anime.

[sweetfire01]

Long love correspondence

While going through my drafts, I found this old picture I draw a year ago and the story I wrote about. I decided to complete it and post it here. Enjoy it!

Words: 1800

Prince Sir Richard was used to living in his older brother's shadow. He wasn't as important as him since he wasn't going to be the next heir to his father's throne. But somehow he felt…freer. He didn't have to remain shut up in the library while one of the tutors imparted relentlessly and with even more fervor lessons in history, music, etiquette... He didn't have to look out the windows at someone else having fun in the courtyard, after obtained permission to play out, because he had finished his homework quite well. Simply, at some point he had put aside his envy and appreciated all the things that were allowed to him.

But one thing he couldn't escape: marriage. The two brothers considered themselves lucky that they weren't destined for a combined one since they were children, even if they should have married some important princess, in order to guarantee peace and commercial relations for both kingdoms.

Their parents, to celebrate their firstborn's eighteenth birthday, gave the palace a grand ceremony so that a potential wife could be found. And it was on that occasion that Sir Richard met her. It was first a simple hand kiss, then a few jokes exchanged, a walk in the garden, a flower gift and finally a dance just before the end of the event - the king and queen were thrilled that both their sons had found noble girls with whom dance. The prince almost felt guilty enjoying a day that was not meant for him but for his brother. However he could not resist the charm of the Princess Ludmila.

Days went by, Sir Richard kept thinking about her. She had seemed so gentle and sensitive, her happy smile as they danced, her hands smooth as velvet entwining with his. Her giggle that she had to hold back when she heard one of his jokes, before pulling herself together to avoid embarrassing herself with sounds unsuitable for a graceful lady like her. Still, he wanted to know more, more than what could be exchanged in a one night feast. But by now she was back in her realm and there was only one way to stay in touch with her.

One evening he took courage and tried: a clean sheet, a shiny goose feather and refined black ink. He sat at his desk for many hours, losing track of time as he let himself be carried away by the inspiration of the moment. Many papers were thrown away, sentences he had written that he was ashamed of, ink changed because the blue perhaps could be more elegant, a smudge on the otherwise immaculate surface that, God forbid, the princess might have found repugnant. It was late at night when he finally produced his first letter, which remained hidden under a pile of books for nearly a week. He wanted to send it, but…maybe it wasn't the case. After all, Ludmila could already be betrothed to someone and he would only be in the way. Perhaps he had gotten too emotional, his mind froze at the mere sight of her, perhaps he was just exaggerating his feelings even though he wasn't really feeling anything like love, no, it was simple affection and wanting to know her, who don't send letters to dear ones? It was normal, wasn't it? Quite right? Maybe, maybe what he'd done wasn't so wrong after all. He would have sent it only with this intent, to know how he was and to tell him something about his life. There was nothing wrong with making sure the trip back went well and she got home safely. Yes. Nothing wrong with that. It could go.

It was another evening when he found himself sitting at his desk, this time not to write but to read the reply. He had tried not to think about it when it arrived that morning, asking the maid to put it in his room, acting as if it was a small matter. But now he was here. Was he supposed to open it? He had really hoped it came from someone else, a distant relative perhaps, but the name and place written behind the white envelope left no room for doubt. It was hers. He opened it with a shaking hand, anxious but also curious to read the contents. The letter was long enough, a full page, written not by hand but on a typewriter. The prince was not very used to using one, he preferred to show off his elegant handwriting, a technique he had practiced since he was a child. He enjoyed writing by hand, even though it could sometimes be painful and tiring in the long run. Coming back to himself and deciding to focus more on content than on form this time, he started. After the customary pleasantries and greetings, Ludmilla explained how she had felt at ease with him during the feast and how happy she was when his letter was delivered. Strangely, the part where she rejected him or told him she was already engaged to someone, never came. Indeed, she was happy to be able to talk - or rather write - to someone, the letters were something private, she didn't have to worry about who was around her. The princess was hoping for an answer from him soon. Sir Richard smiled.

Thus began a sweet exchange of letters, written by the light of an oil lamp, read lying on a bed, wishing they could keep each other company live. Ludmila, as sweet and kind as she was, also had a mischievous character that had gotten her into trouble as a child. But not always. Occasionally she had managed to blame a poor boy who was totally out of touch with the facts. Even though as time went on as well as the scoldings for her inappropriate behavior she started making fewer and fewer jokes, she still had a little playful side to her. The prince, on the other hand, told her of his passion for poetry, even trying his hand, with some embarrassment, in the creation of a small poem for her. He really didn't know what to expect as an answer, but certainly not the reading of five verses that the princess herself tried to write for him, inspired by him. And that was also followed by a second one, another attempt to create something but which, as she will write, could be amusing but she didn't feel at all capable.

Sir Richard was more and more content as time went on, life at the palace also seemed more cheerful. The exchange had been going on for almost two years and he had collected a good number of letters, all kept in a drawer, wrapped up in a light blue ribbon not to lose even one. He had also found the courage: he decided that on his eighteenth birthday, which was imminent, he would choose her as his bride. He knew she wouldn't turn him down. All that was expressed in their letters were not lies. Nevertheless, he didn't have to wait long to change his mind about the wedding. Another letter arrived. It was the 47th. The last of hers he read.

I know what you are thinking, dear readers. She died. Classic drama read and rewatched many times. And I tell you instead: no. But perhaps the pain of knowing her lost forever, away from him, would have been much better than this:

It was only a month before he saw her again: always graceful as she was escorted through the corridors by a few maids. But her gaze was no longer so tender as pitiful; a faint smile filled with apologies and questions whose answers wouldn't been so nice, words that wanted to be said. Or perhaps they had already been transcribed, but Sir Richard hadn't bothered to read them. Because after the forty-seventh letter, the one containing the news of his brother's marriage proposal, the prince had no longer wanted to hear anything from her. What else should they have said? At first he was in a state of denial, he didn't want to believe it, he refused to believe it. He had started opening his heart to her and now it was being trampled like that? Impossible.

But his family and servants excitedly confirmed the news. Finally the eldest was getting married! And Sir Richard had found himself with other white envelopes over the course of days, too heartbroken to open them. Why would he have to do it? Maybe Ludmila was worried? In fact, he never answered her again after that. What was he supposed to write to her? Congratulations? Should he have shown her his regret and anger? Did he have the power to change things? No, he didn't. And now he was there, the day before the wedding, watching the kind princess walk away, heading towards one of the rooms made available for her.

Sir Richard returned to his. He went to his desk where the stack of letters received and readed was placed. He pulled them out of the light blue string that held them together without even bothering to untie the knot. And then, in a fit of rage, he hurled them to the ground. He looked at the pile of papers scattered on the floor, wishing instead that he had thrown his brother's body on the ground. Maybe out the window. Wasn't he the one who always wanted to get outside? He laughed at his joke, but now the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off. He returned to his desk again, picking up the sealed envelopes. He looked at the pile on the ground. Maybe…he should have opened them? He turned over the first envelope and had to blink a couple of times before he could read the date on the back. It wasfrom a week ago. He dropped it on top of the other letters. It had to start with the older one, right? From 3 weeks ago…8 weeks ago…9 weeks ago…He dropped them one after another. He just had to search for older one, yes. And then there was another envelope. The prince dropped it, but its golden decorations that soared from the top of the pile seemed to mock him. It was the wedding invitation. Why he should have an invitation was beyond his understanding. It was probably just a way of teasing about his current condition.

Sir Richard held back his tears no longer. Some of them fell, wetting the papers lying beneath him.

Only when the sobs had subsided, this second born decided what to do. Gathering everything on the floor, he walked over to the fireplace. The flame was not yet completely extinguished.

Had still a sense this sweet, long, love correspondence?

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

[silverrstarrr]

Normal girl (2)

Note: i just edit this chapter a bit and added more dialog. Someone messaged me and helped me out with a few things, thank you!

Chapter 2:

Walking side by side down the stairs, you took a sip of your coffee and place your herd of keys the side of your book bag. yume was scrolling through her phone on tik tok, drinking from her coconut Carmel ice coffee. You didn't understand why she was drinking ice coffee in mid February, it was cold. It was surprising their wasn't any snow.

Grinning like an idiot, she shaked your shoulder, positioning her phone in front of you–you both watched the tik tok. You didn't laugh at first only smiling, yume kept gesturing you to keep watching, waiting for the punchline. Finally it came up and you both started laughing, you slowly shaked your head placing your hand over your mouth.

"NOOO, nooo. That was so wrong, yall are going to hellll" you whined out.

Yume wiped the tears from her face and continued down the last step. She opened up the door and slid out, you trialing behind her. You both proceeded to walk down the street, where all the park cars were out.

"We riding in rich today girlie, jump in," she lifted up her arm that held her drink, her other reached into her purse and grabbed her car keys.

"I thought we were gonna walk there? It's only 10 minutes." You headed towards her car as she unlocked it and sat in the driver's seat. She had a 2018 dark Grey Nissan altima. You remember her having this ever since junior year, you recalled her talking about getting a newer model since this one was old. Like girl what? Old your ass, if the car still functioning there ain't no problem. White people shit, man.

"Well, it's the first day of sweet college life," she dragged out the last few words, adding a sarcastic tone. Yume tossed her bag in the backseat through the open space from the front, She dropped her drink in the little cup holder as well. Catching up with her, you open the backseat's door and chucked your bag in there–immediately closing it after. You pull the passengers door open and sat down, closing it behind you. Yume did the same–letting out a large sigh as she used her long sleeve to rub her legs, which were freezing.

"Bruh, you were just cold. Shouldn't have wore that skirt knowing it was this cold. Your mother would be disappointed," you moved your head side ways, pretending to be disappointed. You dropped your dunkin' drink in the other cup holder next to hers.

"Y/n, shut upp." Rolling her eyes jokingly, She grabbed the buckled next to her seat and puts it on. You placed your seat belt on too. Automatically, her phone connected to the car, you check over at the screen in the middle. It had the time, the degrees outside and all that other fancy things.

"Wanna play something?" she inserted the keys into the ignition and started the car.

"Yeah, I'll type it in,"

You grabbed her phone, showing the screen to her to unlock it, automatically recognizing her face– the lock screen slid up, revealing all her apps. You went to spotify and played "C U Girl" by Steve lacy.

"OKAAYYY, MS. INDIE TIK TOKER." Yume said nodding her, jamming to song. It was only going to be a 5 minute drive, or 7 if you guys couldn't find parking. She swerved to the left, leaving her parking space and pulling off. You whipped out your phone and paused your music, rapidly switching to snapchat–you heard yume's loud singing.

"I WANNA SEE YOU GUURRLL, I WANNA PLEASE YOU GIRL....GO AHEAD AND BE YOUR GIRL," This girl was jamming her out heart out, steve lacy was her favorite along with Brent faiyaz and many others.

In response, you started cackling as you hit the record button—swiftly turning over it to the driver. Her black ponytail moving as she sang and motioning her head in all different directions. Eyeing towards your direction she sees the phone and leans towards the camera flashing a smile, moving her head side to side—still singing through the lyrics. Yume returned back to the road as she lightly taps the steering, avoiding the horn of course.

Once the quick little vid was done, you added a caption,

"I swear if we crash😭😭💕"

Your thumb jolted between posting it on your private or public. You decided to post on the public story because why not? The song was over pretty quickly as the next one played.

"Who knew white people had rhythm?!" It was obviously sarcasm. You knew she was half Asian but it was fun always calling out her white side.

"Naaahh, white people don't have any rhythm. What you saw there was my miki matsubara pop out". She eases down her breaks– the traffic light turns red. Miki Matsubara? Oh yeah, it's that woman who sung "stay with me". It was a good song, you were obsessed with the chorus mostly. 

You giggled a bit at her remark, you checked your socials once again.

"If this light doesn-" Yume sentence was cut off by the light turning green. She pressed her foot on the gas and carried on with attending class.

                                  ~~~

Pulling up to the parking lot, yume leaned towards her wheel, searching for a place to park. She slowly went down each isle searching for a vacant lot she could snag. You had your drink in between your lips, you took the last sip and shook the plastic cup trying to get a little more. All you heard was ice rattling against one another, dropping the cup back in the holder. You peer out the window looking at the campus, there were a ton of kids, like a lot. Anxiety began spiking up through your veins, this really is the college life, huh? Maria University. It was a school for literally anything, it was one of the biggest universities in the country as well being highly diverse. Yume would be allll the way on the other side of campus while you're slightly in the middle.

"Uggghhh! I regret not leaving earlier, I don't see any open slots." She whined. This was her 2nd time driving around the parking lot looking for a space.

"I said we should walk but nahhh, you wanted to be lazy and take the car." You rolled your eyes as yume, exaggerating, throwing your hands in the air. But you weren't going to be late on the first day. As the generous queen you are, you aided your roomie with looking a space to park. After analyzing for a few moments, you spotted a space and immediately tapped at the window, pointing towards it. Yume car swerved to the left, sliding right into the parking. Taking her keys out the hole, she grabbed her drink and headed out.

"No leaving trash in my car, miss L/n!"

You grabbed your plastic cup and opened the passenger door.

"Yes ma'am," you opened the backseat and grabbed the two bags and closed the door. Beep yume locked her car. She was sipping her coffee but gave a bitter expression when her sweet drink was watered down because of the ice. You looked at your phone, checking the time:

                             8:38 am

                 Monday, February 18th

                                                               38m ago

Kittykiller27, prettygirlnene liked your photo

                                                               45m ago

[Andyhas]: CRONA BECK started following you and 48 others.

Your phone was blowing up from insta notifications. It was time for class and you weren't sure how long it'll even take you to find your classroom. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you handed yume her own, which she grabbed. You both were speed walking, despite her coffee being ruined she still continued to drink it. It was for the caffeine you guessed. Reaching the sidewalks, it was time to part ways. Yume turned her face towards yours pouting.

"We're leaving each other nooww," she stuck out her bottom lip staring at you. You grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to you. Her arms slithered around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder–giving you a warm hug. You returned the hug by grunting and holding her tightly.

She started giggling and patted your back a few times, you released your grip and she started to jog in the other direction while looking back, waving at you. You waved back hollering a "BYEEEE!" A trash can was next to you so you dumped your empty dunkin' there.

It was now time for your own adventure, to find this damn classroom. You click the play button on your phone's lock screen, "baby powder by Jenevieve began playing. (Play the song whores👩🏾‍💻)

Walking downwards to the left side of campus, you searched for a pair of doors to go inside of. At this moment, you regretted not going to orientation. That day you were busy setting up your website for your makeup line. You haven't released any products yet, but you had plentiful of ideas and themes you wanted to do. Since it was black history month, maybe you'll drop something as simple as a face cream to help clear and brighten up the skin. But you discarded that thought because you weren't anywhere near ready to start your own small business. Plus, you had bigger things to worry about.

Standing in front of double doors, you grab the handles and pulled it back, you stepped inside while students behind you did the same. You came in slowly, admiring the interior. It was hella spacy with paintings and photos hanging along the walls. Students were roaming the hallways going back and forth from classrooms. Most of the students seemed to be in some sort of costume, or they were dressed fairly well like they were models. You didn't know the directions to your designated class, so you took up the courage to ask someone. You turned to search for someone who didn't seem busy, since most people were rushing to class. Finally you laid eyes on q girl leaning against the wall, typing on her phone. She had long pink acrylic nails, her blonde hair tied into a low ponytail, which complimented her pale skin tone. She had a gold nose piercing on the right nostril.

She seemed nice enough, so you decided to approach her.

"Um excuse me, do you know where Mr. Fargo's class is at?"

The blonde girl averted her eyes from her phone, now focusing on you.

"I'm not really sure—um, I believe it's down that way." She pointed to the right of her.

"Mr. Fargo, he's teaches cosmetic right?"

"Yeah," you replied

"Then I think it should be down there." She scrunched her face in a confusing manner, meaning not to take her word for granted. But you couldn't care less, it was worth a try.

"Ight, thank you." You bid her goodbye. Oop. You accidentally switched your lingo. You were used to speaking in AAVE but you knew how to change your tone and wordplay around others who weren't African American. The girl didn't seen to notice so you just continued down the hall.

"Down... here right..? Yeah this is the way," you murmured to yourself while you strut down the hall. Then turned left as the lady told you. You were now at a hall with multiple doors. Out of all them, you forget the most important, class started in five minutes. You looked to the left as your braids swayed with your movement, then searched to the right. You walked down the hallway, stopping at the fifth door on the left. You were hesitant with grabbing the door, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself walking into the wrong room as all eyes are on you. You pulled out your phone and texted yume.

(I did a different message format just in the previous was confusing)

                 colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

       

                        I'm so lost, this is embarrassing.

Lost? What happened

                        

                               Idk where my class is

                             & its starting in a few

You don't know where?? Bruh

Ask someone, im sure they'll help you

                              I did...but she didn't tell me

                                    which class it was😭 all.

she said was "down the hall"

BYEE LMAOO

Uhh

Just open the door you think it is😋       

                      UH- HUH🧏🏾‍♀️ YOU SETTING ME

                               UP FOR FAILURE.

     

       Imagine going into the wrong class and

                 all you see are eyes 👁👁

Girl, half of the people won't even see you again on campus👩🏻‍🏫

If you don't recognize the teacher, try to ask a student close to the door for direction

         Okay, im blaming you if I make a fool.    

                           outta myself 😟

                        Read at 8:43 am

(Play quicksand by SZA rq 👩🏾‍💻)

You decided to take your roomie's advice and pick a class, which you already did.

You dropped your phone back into your jacket pocket and swung open the door–you were prepared for the stares. The classroom was vacant, not even a teacher in sight. Just a bunch of stools and white pull down screens. You saw a few cameras standing in front of these screens. "Was this the photography class or sum?" You mumbled to yourself.

And well, eyes were on you but it wasn't a herd as you expected, just one. Sitting on one of the stools in front of the door, was pale skin boy with long brown hair. It rested at his shoulders, some of it covering his face even. He seemed around 6ft, or 6 ft 2? You couldn't really tell since he was sitting.

He had on some black jeans with a black long sleeve sweatshirt as well with a beige greenish short sleeve unbutton shirt rested on top of it– a long golden key necklace dangled from his chest. His hands were sitting between his lap, you noticed sliver rings on them.(his outfit for people who need help visualizing) The teal eyed boy was also rocking black & white air Jordan 1 retro, literally the same as you.

You screamed internally at how fine this man looked and he had shoe gang? Uggghh. Class been started and you were going to be late on your first because this OBVIOUSLY wasn't your class. You decided to break the awkward silence and speak,

"Hey, um, is this Mr. Fargos class?" You stepped more into the classroom for the brunette male to hear you.

"Wrong one, babe. His class is in a totally different building." A different building?! You wanted to die right there and then, especially after hearing him laugh after his statement. Not just the wrong class but the wrong building? Bye–you're so stupid. His eyes scanned your body, his eyes lingered a bit longer at your shoes–it seems he noticed. A smirk appeared on his lips after finishing his quick outfit interrogation–wait, did he just call you-? I-, yes he did. You tried your best to hide your smile and not react.

"O-ooo, I got it. Thanks" Eren released a small chuckled seeing your reaction, he could tell you were caught up with the little pet name.

"I'll walk you over there." He got off his stool and walked towards your direction.

"I-, nah it's good, I got it." You said in defense not wanting to bother him. He didn't respond and just passed by you, exiting the classroom. He held onto the door, looking at you.

"You coming or no?" He was so nonchalant with it everything. You smiled a bit and walked out the class alongside with him. He released his grip once you were out and started trialing behind you.

You paused for a moment because you didn't know where you were going. You turned back to look at him, he caught on and let out an "ah". He quickly got in front of you as you proceeded behind him.

"So," he said.

"What?" You replied. Why did he start a sentence and not finish it? Was he expecting you to start the conversation, weirdo. You just wanted to get to class l.

"Oo, sassy are we?" He raised a brow.

"What—? boy, say what you wanna say."

Once again, he let out a chuckle, flashing you a small. God, was his laugh attractive.

"You're into makeup and stuff?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I'm into 'makeup and stuff' " You said the last few words in the mocking tone, referring to what he called cosmology.

"That's good, at least I'll be seeing you often."

"Often? Oh, are you in that major also?" You said.

"No...Do you really not know anything?" He made you feel dumb by his response. How were you suppose to know what he meant? You clicked your teeth and started walking ahead. You pushed back the door that lead to another hallway and walked towards the end to push the second door that lead to another building.

The brunette boy watched as you left him behind in the dirt, waiting for the moment you'll turn the wrong corner—so he could tease you about it then correct you.

It wasn't too long till you reached your destination, you both stopped in front of the class's door.

"Well, see you. I hope you don't make snarky remarks to every girl you meet."

"Nah, only you princess." He had a smirk on his face, ooo! You wanted to wipe it off.

You glanced at him and his eyes were already on you, you broke eye contact and reached for the handle.

"Wait–" you whipped your heard back.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat

"Name's Eren," you let out a small giggle, did he really just stop you to say his name? Puhleasee. Hearing your laugh, his face brightened up and kept his eyes on you.

"Okay, Eren~. Thank you for walking me, I gotten get to class now."

You opened the door and stepped inside. Eren didn't even get a chance to ask your name. Luckily for him, your major mingled a lot with his own, he could only hope to see you again around campus.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Authors note: UGHHH, I STAYED UP ALL NIGHT FOR THIS just to pass out a few hours before school started. 🥲 I wasn't even paying attention in English and math class, but hope yall enjoyed <3.

Pt 3

[hyperfixatingmenever]

Hush, My Dear

Hush, My Dear | Part 1/2 | 7.2K | Mature

Title: Hush, My Dear

Fandom: Triple Frontier  

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/ Reader

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 7.2K 

Cross posted on Ao3 here 

Part 2 here

A/N: This fic is dedicated to the lovely @theassbuttchronicles I hope I did justice to all your Frankie dreams! Please enjoy!

Thank you @gillespie-s for editing the monstrosity I gave you. Thank you @michaelperry for answering all my dumb questions & soothing my anxiety and thank you @peterunderoos-blog & @fantasmicbelle6y6 for beta reading. I love you all so much!  

"You know I’m not always going to be here to help with your cuts and bruises, right?" You try to say with a smile but still somewhat serious, as you continue to wrap Frankie's hand with gauze. 

"But I don’t know what I'd do without my favourite medic," Frankie shoots back, giving you his go-to smirk. 

"Ooooh, favourite medic? What happened to Rebecca?" 

"Rebecca?! If I remember correctly, you’re the one who set us up on a blind date, but I ended up on your couch that night, telling you how terrible it went." 

“Lower your voice! She’s working today.” You chastise him and, with your free hand, lightly hit him in the shoulder. Frankie raises an eyebrow as he looks left and right to see if anyone had caught his comment but knowing you both were in the corner examination room concealed by the thin clinic curtains, he wasn’t worried. 

"I think you didn't even give her a chance," You say, trying to poke his buttons while your concentration was still on his hand. He was right; he did end up on your couch that night. He went through a whole list of reasons why the date was bad, and the company was worse. Further exaggerating that it was the worst night of his life, which you highly doubted because you heard about the shit those boys went through during some of their ops. As he complained, you listened like a good friend, but all the reasons he described felt superficial and insincere. You remember trying to ask questions in an attempt to understand why Frankie was acting this way, but each time he would shut you down and would keep on with his long-winded story of the night. As you finish remembering that night, still wrapping Frankie’s hand, you hear under his breath. "She just wasn't the one.” 

Barely hearing those words, your mind began to race, your chest had tightened. Did Frankie believe in ‘the one'? Because if you were being honest with yourself, you had always imagined that Frankie was ‘the one’ for you. You had known each other for so many years, you couldn’t let yourself start to believe that Frankie would ever like you like that, let alone love. That’s why you had tried to set Frankie up with your fellow army medics. Maybe if he had someone else, a girlfriend, someone else’s couch he could stay on from time to time… you could move on. Maybe you could actually go on a date with someone without comparing them to Frankie. Frankie was one of your best friends, he was family, but you were convinced he could never be more. 

As you were deep in thought, it felt like the base clinic fell silent; you had worked quiet night shifts before, but within these thin curtains which sequestered the both of you off from what felt like the rest of the world, it was deafening. You swore if you really concentrated, you could hear Frankie's heartbeat, but maybe it was just yours speeding up. After what felt like forever, you finally break the silence. 

"Okay, Frankie, you're good to go. You know the drill, keep the gauze dry, make sure to change the bandage and gauze daily, and if the pain gets worse, take a couple of extra-strength Advil..." 

"And drink lots of water..." Frankie rolls his eyes as he finishes your sentence, showing that he knows it off my heart. He slowly pushes himself off the clinic bed with his non-bandaged hand and stands in front of you. 

"But really, thank you, mi Cielo. I always know I can count on you,"

You give a slight chuckle, trying to cover up the hurt you felt in your eyes. It only hurt more looking at his warm smile. His smile that would eventually warm someone else's heart, someone that wasn't you. You look down at his paperwork and quickly say, "Any time, Frankie.”

You both walk to the nurse’s station. As you stop to finish up his paperwork, he keeps walking. You hear his heavy uniform boots slowly fade down the hallway, but then you hear a sharp squeak from his feet changing direction. 

"HEY, MI CIELO!" Hearing your nickname coming from his sweet lips makes you quickly lift your head and look up at him, meeting his deep brown eyes, down the distant hallway.  

"Don't forget movie night at my place on Friday!" Your monthly movie night had been a tradition since you and the guys had met at your first posting. The last Friday of the month was slowly approaching at the end of the week, and movie night was definitely something you always looked forward to with all the guys. 

"I'll be there!" You yell back, with the biggest grin on your face. Frankie smiled back, but right before he turned back around, you add: 

"And don't forget to remind Benny that it's my turn to pick the movie, and if he puts up a fight, I'll kick his ass.” Frankie gives you a grin, a small nod, and an even smaller salute with his two fingers before turning on his heels and leaving the base clinic.

-----

Friday night was finally here, and you've never felt the need to relax with a movie, junk food, and your favourite people more. There had been a training exercise gone wrong, so you had half a dozen privates with broken bones, road rash, and a couple of concussions. Let alone the normal flu's, aches and pains, and problems that flooded your ER daily. 

Like every other movie night when it was your pick, you couldn't wait to spend the first 10 min sitting on the floor, in front of Frankie's TV, looking at your movie options while Benny tried to sway your choice to be something like one of the 'Fast and Furious' movies. You would inevitably choose 'The Princess Bride'; you made the boys suffer through it every time it was your pick.  In your defence, your pick only happened every five months. You walk up to Frankie's front door, consumed by your thoughts of what tonight was going to hold, not noticing that yours was the only vehicle parked in front of Frankie's place. 

 ~Flashback~

You had known the boys and Frankie in particular for the past 12 years, and since the beginning, Frankie's has always stated that we were all like family and that family doesn't knock. It had taken you quite a while and many light scoldings from Frankie for you to finally stop knocking and just walk into his house. The first time you had done it, it was a random Tuesday, and you were on autopilot after such a bad day. All your brain wanted to do was relax and talk to Frankie. You walked in, went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and plopped down on the couch. 

Frankie’s eyes widened as his focus followed you from the door to the fridge and back to the couch. You were finally making yourself at home, in his house, after months of him begging for you to do so. You were completely unfazed by him standing in front of the stove making spaghetti. 

Other than Frankie's cooking, the house was silent but not in a tense way, in a comfortable... home, type of way. Once Frankie finished cooking, he brought you a plate of food and sat down beside you. He distracted you with stories of all the dumb things his students had done lately, which made you throw back your head with laughter.

~End Of Flashback~

 You walked into Frankie's house already smelling the fresh popcorn Frankie must have made with warm butter. 

"FRANKIE?" you yell, not seeing him in the living room or kitchen. 

"Up here! Coming!" You hear Frankie's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. As he descended the last couple steps, you see his shirtless torso being covered by a dark grey t-shirt. He gets this head through, the mess of curls that he usually hides with a hat popping out from the collar as his arms come down. You catch a glimpse of his soft stomach and can see faint indents of his ‘V’ line as his jeans hung low on his hips, even with a belt and those stupid buckles of his. Before he re-adjusted his shirt, you could see the small line of hair trailing from his bellybutton, lower, past the waist of his jeans. 

 Frankie always swore that he had abs during basic training... even though Santi promises you, he didn't. This always starts an argument between Frankie and Santi about who was in better shape in basic training and who has maintained it. Benny would usually come in and ‘accidentally’ flex his muscles, subtly declaring himself the winner, which only made Frankie and Santi team up against Benny, which is always fun to watch. What you would never tell anyone, let alone the guys, is that you never liked the glistening hard six-pack but rather a bit of a softer stomach... much like Frankie had. 

 "Mi Cielo!" Frankie walks over and gives you a warm hug, which is only then when you realize that you two are alone, the boys aren't here. Which is very strange because they usually beat you here. As if he had read your thoughts, Frankie started to explain. 

"Oh about that..." He rubs the back of his neck with one of his hands and looks down "...all the guys cancelled." 

"All of them?" You raise one eyebrow in confusion because in all the time you guys had had your movie nights, sure one or two might cancel, but never all three. 

"Yeah, apparently Santi finally convinced this girl he's been chasing to give him a chance. Benny's trainer added more training sessions before his big fight in a couple of weeks, and Will got unexpectedly sent for some recruiting bullshit this morning" 

"Oooh... well we can cancel movie night then?" 

"NO!" Frankie practically yells. Neither he nor you expected the volume that came out of this mouth. 

"No... I mean... from your texts, you seemed to have had a stressful week, and we both know how much you love movie night..." Frankie’s sentence trails off, hoping you'll pick it up and agree to stay. You make eye contact with his warm eyes.  

"Well, you already made the popcorn. No sense wasting it." You finish with a grin. 

"Perfect! I'll go grab the snacks, and you go pick a movie!" Frankie says with a smile. He heads towards the kitchen to grab everything but first snatching the blue and brown plaid shirt draped over the back of the couch. You sit down in front of the TV and start your look over your options. You had done this so many times, you swear you could recall every single movie in Frankie's DVD collection. As you finish looking through the second row, you can smell the buttery popcorn get closer and the glass beers clinking in Frankie's hands; you look up. Frankie places everything down on the coffee table and teasingly says, 

"Come on, Cielo, we both know you’re just going to pick 'The Princess Bride' "

You give Frankie a light glare "no, I'm not!" 

Frankie raises his eyebrows in sarcastic surprise. 

You pout a little and look back at his collection of movies. "It's no fun if I can't see Benny's face silently suffering the whole time!" Frankie's deep laughter warms your chest, and you let yourself smile since all Frankie could see is the back of your head. You push the pieces of hair that fell in front of your eyes, behind your ear while looking at movies, and you turn your head back to Frankie. 

"Let's pick something else...together," you say, slowly tapering off, trying to see Frankie's reaction. Frankie coughed and sat up straighter. 

"uh yeah if that's what you want? Do you want to stream something? Since I swear we’ve already watched everything from my DVD collection at least three times" he gives a slightly nervous chuckle.

"Yeah," you say quietly as you slowly stand back up and head over to the couch. 

You and the boys were used to physical affection, for one of them to wrap their arm around your shoulder, for you to lean against one of them, for one of them to lay their head in your lap as you play with their hair, but this was a first that it was just Frankie and you. You try and rein in your dizzying thoughts and erratic heartbeat. Slowly, reminding yourself that ‘Frankie was just a friend, and this is just a normal movie night.’ 

“How does ‘Wonder Woman’ sound?” 

“Great,” you say probably too quickly because you weren’t listening.

“Uh… sounds good” After Frankie presses play, he reaches forward, hands you your beer and places the popcorn bowl in the small space between you two.  

-----

With multiple beers and the popcorn bowl now empty on the coffee table, the night had slowly progressed. 'Wonder Woman' had finished, and the both of you decided to keep the night going and put on another movie. Night had gradually fallen outside, and the only light sources in the house were the tv and a small lamp over your shoulder. Neither you nor Frankie had ever seen ‘Prospect’, but you had heard good reviews about it. 

You were nuzzled in the corner of the couch, leaning your head against the back of the couch, so you could rest your neck as well as take quick glances at the profile of Frankie’s face. Admiring how his jaw went slightly slack as he was intensely focused on the movie, his one dimple that would make an appearance when he smiled, as well as his soft eye wrinkles. You couldn’t forget about the slope of his nose; whenever you stared at it or thought about too long, it made you start to have dirty thoughts… thoughts about how that slope would feel against your clit as he ate you out, the tight grip he would have on your waist, leaving small bruises, the feeling of his patchy beard scraping against the softness of your thighs. Presumingly giving you a slight beard burn which would make you think of him while you tried to act normal the next day at work as your clinic uniform rubbed against your sensitive thighs. Reminding you of all the pleasure he brought you with just his tongue. But before you let yourself fall entirely down this rabbit hole of thirsty thoughts about a man who was your friend and someone who considered you family, a small snore shook you out of your trance. You look at Frankie again but now with softer thoughts, how relaxed and peaceful he looked. His arms stretched over the back of the couch with his head tilted back and his mouth open.         

-----

You decided that you should clean up the empty beers with the movie nearing the end and do the couple dishes you and Frankie had made that night. You didn't want to disturb Frankie because he looked like he needed the sleep, so you tried to be as silent as possible. You quietly hummed while you washed the few dishes and unloaded the dishwasher. Not realizing how wet your hands still were, you lost your grip on a plate, and it shattered on the floor with a loud BANG. 

Almost instantly, Frankie jumped up from the couch looking around like a mad man, sweat pouring down his face, making some of his curls stick flat on his forehead, his hands were shaking… as was most of his body, but his eyes were what you clocked first. They were filled with panic, sadness, and ultimately fear. The plate was soon forgotten as you quickly walked towards Frankie, but as you reached out for him, he flinched and stepped back. 

"No…. No…. I'll hurt you…. I don't want to hurt you…." Frankie said shakily. 

You were an army medic, and you had taken courses on mental health, many on PTSD in particular. You knew something had happened, and Frankie was struggling. 

"Frankie, everything is okay, you're safe, I'm right here," showing the palms of your hand, proving you're not a threat. You slowly start to make your way around the couch, but with every step, Frankie took his own step back. 

He kept mumbling, "No, I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt you," over and over again. Looking down and shaking his head as if he could shake whatever hurt him out of his brain. 

"You're not going to hurt me, Frankie. I know you. You're my best friend. I trust you. I trust that you would never hurt me." Tears are now streaming down his eyes; he wipes them haphazardly like a toddler. 

"Frankie, what can I do? How can I help you? What do you need?" 

"I need you to stay back," and as he yells that, he takes off and locks himself in the guest bathroom. You run after him, you can hear him crying. All you can do is let him know you're there for him. "I'm right here Frankie, right outside… whatever you need." You lean against the door and slide down till you're sitting on the ground. You hummed a lullaby that your dad used to sing to you when you were little, hoping that it might calm Frankie down or at least give him something to focus on. After some time, Frankie stopped crying and hyperventilating, and you could feel your own breathing start to even out. 

You told Frankie you were going to clean up the plate and to just call if he needed anything. You hoped that maybe if you weren't right outside the bathroom, he might come out on his own, but no such luck. 2 minutes turned into 5, which turned into 7, and he still hadn't come out on his own. You had been outside that bathroom for more than half an hour, and you were getting worried; you just needed to see his warm, encompassing eyes. Finally, at your breaking point, you tried to act strong, but you know it ends up just sounding like a plea. “You need to let me in, Frankie...please.” 

You hear a deep breath from the other side of the door "...I don't want you to see me like this…" 

"Like what? My best friend. An amazing pilot. A war vet. The most caring person I know." 

Nothing came from the other side.

"You know I’m going to keep listing things if you don't open up this door." You hear a slight chuckle, and suddenly that chuckle is your favourite noise in the entire universe. 

"Okay, you're in for it now…" and before you can even continue your sentence, you hear the door handle jiggle. Frankie slowly opens the door and comes out of the bathroom with his eyes on the ground. Standing upright from leaning against the wall, you slowly place a hand in his and lift the other to wipe the stray tears that had fallen down his face. 

 Gradually you pulled him in and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you and silently cried the last bit of tears into the crook of your neck. Nothing was said, but you slowly rocked him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Holding the back of his head with one hand, tangling within his curls and the other rubbing soft circles on his back. You don't know how long the both of you stayed like that, but when Frankie's breathing went back to normal and he was no longer holding onto you like you could disappear at any time, he started to softly let go. Both of you only pull back far enough to touch foreheads and look into each other’s eyes. 

There was quite a long pause before Frankie broke it. "So is this where we kiss?" He gave a half-hearted smile, you would have smiled if it didn't hurt so much. You knew Frankie was joking. Without either of you saying anything, you both communicate with your eyes; Frankie had had a nightmare. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask tentatively. 

Frankie stands up straight and rubs his over his face. “Can we just talk about anything else, other than that?” 

Not wanting to push, you gave in quite quickly. “Sure.”

You grab his non-bandaged hand and lead him back to the couch. 

Frankie places his head in your lap. You talk about everything that comes to mind, and as the night progresses, you play with his soft curls, and at times braiding small pieces. After a long peaceful pause from your last topic, you finally break it with a question you've been asking yourself for years.

"Frankie, why do you call me Mi Cielo?"

His soft breathing catches at your question.

"I know it means 'my sky', but I don't understand why you would call me that? I asked Santi in the past but he just laughed and rolled his eyes at me"

Hearing that you had asked Santi, Frankie gave a small groan and covered his face with his hands.

He moved his hands so they were no longer covering his mouth, but still held them over his eyes. Like if his eyes met with yours, things might change forever, and not in the way you both secretly hoped.

"You know we've all got call signs right?" You give a slow nod.

"Well the guys and I were talking, and since you were now part of ‘the guys' you needed a nickname. We came up with a bunch. Sunshine, Doc, Preciosa... Benny was having a hard time with the Spanish ones" He says with a small head shake.

"Anyways we came up with all these names but none of them felt right. I started thinking about you and how you make me feel... and well... I'm always happy with you. You give me the same peaceful, calming feeling that I feel when I'm flying. The sky is the place I feel the most comfortable, the most like myself, when it's just me and the sky. So I brought up Mi Cielo to all the guys, they laughed at me and continued on with their search, but I knew that night that I found my name for you, Mi Cielo. 

Frankie had finally uncovered his eyes, but they were now looking forward at the black TV. Your brain was firing rapidly trying to understand what this story meant. Frankie felt comfortable with you, happy with you, just you. You weren't sure what this meant but you knew it made your chest warm. 

Coming out of your trance, you look down at Frankie and catch him trying to stifle a yawn. All you say is "Let’s get you to bed.” 

Frankie lifts his head and sits up as you stand up; he follows your lead, standing up as well. As you turn towards the stairs that lead to his room, his large calloused hand wraps around your own. You tell yourself that it's just for his comfort after such a hard night, telling yourself over and over again to not overthink it. You walk hand in hand towards Frankie's room, you sit on the end of his bed, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go. He gives you a soft look before heading to the bathroom. As he finishes in the bathroom, he walks out in a pair of loose sleep pants and an old black band tee. Before he opens the sheets to his bed, his hands stop. He looks up at you, and with his eyes still slightly glassy, he asks, "Will you stay with me?" 

You give a small nod before going to the other side of the bed and crawling in. Frankie crawls in, right beside you. He looks at you tentatively, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to ask whatever’s on his mind. Instead, you open your arms without saying anything, and he places his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around each other just like in front of the bathroom, but this feels more intimate. Unsure if it was because you were in bed together, that his head was on your chest or that it felt like your heartbeats were in sync. 

Slowly his breathing got more shallow, but unable to see his eyes, you assumed he had fallen asleep. You glance down to see his arm wrapped around your torso, his large bandaged hand resting on your stomach and you could feel his legs intertwined between yours. If you let yourself indulge, you could stay like this forever, but you knew tomorrow would come, you would go home, and the both of you would never talk about this night ever again. You let yourself give in just for a moment. You leaned down and kissed his forehead and spoke the words you had been thinking since the moment you knew you loved him. 

"Frankie, I love you. I wish I could take all of your pain, your demons, every worry away from you. You carry so much on your shoulders, and I wish I could relieve you of it. You deserve the world, and you deserve to be happy; that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you… to be happy." Soon after, you fell asleep and had never felt more secure than with his arms wrapped around you.

-----

Hours later, you wake up as the sun slowly begins to rise and peek through the blinds, and you realize you desperately need the bathroom. You look down to see Frankie still gripping you like his life depended on it. As you try and take in this beautiful serene moment, your body betrays you and reminds you why you woke up in the first place. Carefully, you untangle yourself from Frankie’s limbs, hoping to not disturb him; you head to the bathroom.

As you mindlessly wash your hands, you hear something and then the bathroom door swings open and your eyes meet with Frankie’s. You see the panic in his eyes. 

“Frankie?” 

Quickly you look around for a towel but can’t see one, so you shake off your wet hands and step forward. Placing a cool hand on his hot cheek. He leans into your hand with his eyes closed, embracing the physical contact, as if he was starved and had not been tangled with you mere minutes ago. 

His eyes open, and he looks at you in yours. 

“Don’t leave me like that, you scared me”

You think the only reason tears didn't swell in his eyes after telling you this was he was probably dehydrated from all the crying yesterday. 

“I’m sorry, I just had to go to the bathroom.” 

There was a long silent pause while you just looked into each other’s eyes. Frankie finally breaks the silence with some hope in his voice. “Are you hungry?”

 You both head down to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast, Frankie in front of the stove cooking eggs and you are mashing avocados for avocado toast on the opposite counter. There was a peaceful silence resting over the kitchen; the sun was finally rising, ushering a new day, and you felt content. Well, as content as you could be. Silently imagining what it would feel like if this became your life, sleeping in Frankie’s bed, holding each other, making breakfast together, but the more you let yourself succumb to this dream, the more it started to hurt. As you start to cut slices of bread, Frankie spoke up, “Can we talk about you kissing me?”

You choke and turn toward him; he’s already looking at you. “What?” 

“Last night… on the forehead.” 

Realizing if he knows about the kiss, he probably knows about what you confessed, panic-filled your body. “Oh! I’m really sorry, I didn’t…” but before you could finish, he abruptly cuts you off.

 “I love you too.” 

You're speechless; this can't be happening. “Wait, what?”

“I love you, mi Cielo, I heard what you said last night, and after my horrible dream... I can’t wait any longer to tell you. I was sure my brain was just playing a trick on me when I heard you. You could never love me, I’m just a broken man, but I need you to know I love you. You're the first person I think of when I wake up, and I spend the night dreaming about you and the possibility of us. Us living together, us getting married, even sometimes the idea of kids, kids with your eyes and my hair. I want to spend every moment I have, with you." He waits for a response, but you're dazed; you’ve still got to be dreaming, right? 

All you can utter is, “but we’re friends.'' 

Frankie steps closer, putting one hand on either side of you, leaning on the counter “You are my best friend… but you also said you want me to be happy… you make me happy.” he said matter of factly.

“...but were friends”, 

Frankie can tell your brain is caught on a loop, and before you can even completely react, he strips off his shirt and lets it fall to the kitchen floor. 

“What are you doing? Put your shirt back on.”

But your eyes betray you. You can't help but stare. He’s so close you can smell his sweat as well as his day-old lingering cologne. You stare at his biceps which are holding you in place as he continues to lean on the counter, his large pecs and his soft stomach that you caught a glimpse of yesterday. 

“You keep saying we're friends, but you’re looking at me, and I know that's not all…” You finally look up and into his eyes, “Can I kiss you?” he practically begs. 

You finally let yourself give in to this dream...“Please,” you whisper. 

His hands come up to softly cup your face, as your lips touch. It's better than you ever imagined, because this was real. You can feel him smile against your lips as well as his scruff he called a beard. 

"I love you, GOD. I love you," 

He moans as your hands start to tangle in his hair. He finally has had enough; he needs more of you; his hands follow the curves of your body before ending at your hips; he gives them a hard squeeze indicating to jump. Seamlessly you give a small jump, and he picks you up the rest of the way and places you on the counter. You throw your head back as he starts to kiss up your neck, giving him more access. 

Your hands roam his skin feeling every muscle and scar, most scars on his body you stitched back up. Touching his body is different now, it's not goal-oriented, finish a task and be done but enjoyable, electric for you know at this moment, Frankie's body is yours. 

You can feel Frankie getting excited as he stands between your legs. He continues to kiss your face, down your neck and moves the collar of your shirt to suck against your collar bone. You can feel yourself dripping with arousal, but you could tell Frankie wanted to take his time with you. You hook your legs together behind Frankie and pull him as close as possible, you start moaning louder and scratching at his back. You moaned whenever Frankie sucked on a particular sweet spot. 

“Take me back to bed Frankie… please" Frankie needs no more encouragement, he grabs you by the thighs and lifts you up so he's walking with you wrapped around him. You're incredibly impressed with his strength when he doesn't waver as he carries you up the steps towards his bedroom. In the back of your head you're still worried about his hand but the kisses he's peppering you with, his hand is quickly forgotten. You expected Frankie to toss you on the bed, but you're pleasantly surprised as he gently lays you down still worshipping your body. 

"To. Many. Clothes." Frankie breathes out. 

Considering Frankie was already shirtless it was your turn to strip your shirt. As you take it off and throw it somewhere in Frankie's room, he stops in his tracks, you immediately get self-conscious trying to cover yourself with your hand or maybe a blanket close by. Frankie looks up from staring at your body and just like you, last night, clocks the fear in your eyes. 

"Baby, you are the most beautiful person I've ever seen, I want to explore your body as long as you'll let me, I will do everything to show you how much I love you" Hearing his words you melt. 

Quickly trying to think of a way for you to show how much you love and appreciate him. With the obvious idea coming to mind you start kissing down his chest letting your hands roam his broad shoulders trying to shimmy your way off the bed and between his legs, but before you can he stops you.

"Not right now baby, let me take care of you." 

With your feet already planted on the ground, he slowly pushes you until your back is flat on the bed. 

Before he kneels down, you reach for a pillow and hand it to him "For your knees"

He gives you a smirk and does what he's told, placing the pillow on the floor before kneeling down. His fingers dance across the waistband of your leggings, he gives your hips a soft squeeze indicating to lift them, before pulling them off of you. Frankie softly spreads your legs and thinks about all the things he wants to do to you, but that would have to wait because he could already tell how wet you were by just looking at you. He starts softly kissing up either thigh making sure to give them equal attention. You can feel his scuff scraping against your soft thighs and it feels even more sinful than you dreamed about. Frankie hooked his thumbs in the side of your soaking wet underwear, slowly peeled them off your body, enjoying the strip show he's giving himself before throwing them somewhere into the darkness of his room. As the cold air hits your wet cunt you buck your hips and instinctively shut your thighs. 

"Baby you've got to keep your legs open" 

You moan and nod, doing your best. Frankie knows how sensitive you already are so he puts your legs over his shoulder and places his large hands on your hips, holding you in place. He gives small licks before delving into your pussy, and just as you thought his nose brushes against your clit every time he buries his tongue in you. You chant his name like a prayer, you're so close to a release, a release that Frankie had almost coaxed out of you with only his tongue. A moan comes from Frankie's chest, this moan was different from the smaller moans that seemed to fall out of his mouth as he explored your folds with his tongue. This moan was gravelly, like it roiled within him this encouragement pushed you over the edge. Your outstretched arms grasped the sheets of the bed as you came, Frankie lapped up everything you gave to him. 

As Frankie stood up you could hear the audible pop of his knee, you both gave a quick wince before he climbed on top of you and you both started to laugh. 

"Aren't you happy I gave you that pillow?" 

"You always take care of me" 

He kisses you and you can taste yourself still in his mouth as your tongues explore each other.  

Even with his sleep pants still on, you could feel his hard length against your thigh, you lift your hand and start messaging through his thin sleep pants. Frankie loudly moans "Cielo" you take this as your sign to push down his pants. While still kissing, you start to stroke his length, "God. Baby, you feel so good." 

"I need you, Frankie, I need you inside of me" Frankie breaks the kiss to look you in the eye and confirm what you just said. You put your hands on either side of his face, pushing the hair stuck to his forehead back. "I want this. I want you. Frankie, I love you." Frankie kisses you and you know what he's saying back "I love you too" 

You're still wet from the first time you came so when Frankie pushes into you, he slides in. He fits perfectly inside of you, he starts off slow but he soon picks up the pace, you can feel yourself clenching around him. Neither of you last long but since there was 12 years of foreplay this seems perfect to you. After you both slowly came down from your high he rolled off of you and laid beside you, both of you still breathing heavy. You turn your head towards him, awestruck and say "That was incredible… that was beyond incredible" 

When it felt like your muscles were working again, You propped yourself up, leaned down and mumbled against his lip, "I love you."

Before sleep took either of you, Frankie got up and went to the bathroom to grab a warm face cloth to clean you up, when he finished he kissed you on the forehead gently reminding you to go pee. You roll your eyes as you get up but you secretly loved that you two take care of each other. Shutting off the bathroom light you crawl into bed and Frankie devours you in his arms, and almost instantly, you're both asleep.

-----

As Frankie slept, with his beard tickling behind your ear, you decided to order food. Knowing he'd wake up hungry, considering the two of you got distracted before you could eat breakfast and you two had worked up quite an appetite. 

After some time still laying in bed with him, you heard a knock on the door "Wow they got here quick" as you got out of bed you realized you were naked and worse you couldn't find any of your clothes. You heard the knock again louder this time, 

"Fuck!" You yell very quietly, you need to go get the food but you can't do it naked! Then you see Frankie's clothes drawer open, you run over, grab an old shirt of his, quickly put it on as you run to the door, silently hoping the one you pick will be long enough. You race to the door as there's one more loud knock, and as you open the door you hear "Frankie! Why the fuck is your door lock- ?!" Before you can even put together that it was not your food at the door but Santi, it was too late. 

Each of you took a moment to size the other up. Santi definitely noticed Frankie's shirt, no pants, clothes on the kitchen floor leading to the stairs and the love marks that Frankie had littered across your body. What you saw was not much different, Santi's clothes are wrinkled like this is the second day he's been wearing them, he's got slight bags under his eyes and a large hickey poking out from under his collar. 

"Soooooo..." Santi says with a knowing grin. 

"What do you want Santiago?" Using his full name to show you are already over his shit, and a small part of it worked, he flinched just slightly as if his mother had used his FULL name. 

"I was hoping to catch Fish while he was making lunch and tell him about my night" 

"What are you a teenage girl?" You retort crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Fish is my best friend, what do you want from me?" Santi shrugs his shoulder. 

Any other time you'd find Frankie's and Santi's relationship adorable, but right now… you wanted nothing more than to close the door on Santi and crawl back into bed with Frankie. During this short pause, you can see Santi trying to look past you, to see if he could gather any more clues about what he was sure happened last night. You lean against the door frame and pull the door closer to you, to minimize whatever Santi is looking for behind you. 

"So you and Fish? This couldn't have been going on long or he would have told me" he wiggles his eyebrows hoping to catch a reaction from you. With perfect timing you see a young teenage boy walking up the driveway with what you assume to be your food. A little unsure of what he was walking into, the boy slowly came up behind Santi, stood beside him and handed you the bag of your food. You grab it and thank him, knowing he probably wanted to get out of whatever was happening here. 

You look back at Santi "Do you need anything else Santiago?" 

"Well if Fish is free…" you look at him, he's not trying to be an ass he just genuinely wants to tell his best friend about his night, but right now Frankie was yours. You lean forward and give Santi a quick kiss on the cheek.

"He's not" and close the door on Santi. You quickly make your way up the stairs with food in hand. Frankie hasn't moved from the position you left him in a couple minutes ago, you want to remember this moment and what he looked like for the rest of your life. You creep over to the bed, place the food on the bedside table before slowly kissing Frankie's face. He slowly started to stir, his eyes fluttered open and looked at your face over him. He gently pushes some of your hair that is draping down behind your ear and rubs his thumb over your cheek. 

"Good morning" His smile is soft and genuine. "Morning Frankie" 

With his bandaged hand still on your face, he pulls you in for a kiss.

After a minute or two you pull back "Oh by the way Santi stopped by and wanted to gossip with you, but I told him you were busy" 

"Oh am I?" 

"Yes, extremely busy" you start kissing him again, realizing in the back of your head that your food will probably be cold by the time you get to it, but right now you couldn't care less. The kiss starts off sweet but quickly turns passionate. Slowly he switches your position, and now he's the one over you. Nothing could stop either of you at this moment, 12 years of bubbling feelings and finally a release. Well, one thing apparently could stop you. 

"Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it. Is that okay?” You answer self-consciously, you hadn't asked Frankie, you kinda just grabbed it and ran. 

“Yeah, I…you just look good in it… really fucking good” Frankie replied with his mouth agape.

“You should see how good I look out of it,” you say with a wink. A fire was suddenly lit behind Frankie’s eyes, he crashed his lips with yours and the food was soon forgotten once again.

[spicycreativity]

Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

--

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it.  Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he  scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

hi!!! i made this post on a whim and stuck it in the blackhands tag bc i was kinda hoping people would be open to talk abt it, and now that i've gone to bed and woken up and sat in a car for like 5 hours and read the notes and re-read my original post i can see that my tone probably came off more aggressive than i meant it to?? like, im so desensitized by cursing at this point it just feels like sprinkling a little flavor into my sentences, but the "fucking baffled" part probably came off as really rude, especially in written text vs talking out loud. i am genuinely sorry if this post made you bitter, i really wasn't trying to come at anyone for how they interpret the show, i was just saying that some people's interpretations confuse me. which is fine!!! we don't all have to be on the same wavelength. i didn't mean to upset ppl, but if i did that's on me and i apologize

all that aside tho i made this post bc i love this show and i love talking abt this show and i love discussing this show at length, especially with people whose opinions on this show differ from mine, so i do want to respond to the points u brought up.

(fair warning: this gets long)

re: ur first 3 paragraphs. i spent the morning reading + responding to ppls comments on this so i've already talked abt this a bit, but i agree that yes ed is at an emotional low point and exaggerating abt a lot of things in that scene. he is a killer, even tho he doesn't think of himself that way, and he does have relationships that a lot of ppl would consider friendship. but i think when ed uses the word "friend" he's talking abt something more than a friends-with-benefits drinking buddy or a partner-in-crime to watch his back. the way he only refers to calico jack as his "old mate" but calls stede his friend feels significant to me. what exactly ed means by friend is pretty vague and kind of up to interpretation, but to me, when ed says he doesn't have any friends he's saying that he doesn't have anyone he can express vulnerability and insecurity to.

(i also agree that ed isn't rlly a good person. idk if anyone in this show is a "good person." they are... literally all pirates. but being a "good person" isn't rlly the point of this show, imo)

re: calico jack calling izzy sentimental for giving himself up. u say here that izzy "gave himself up to protect ed." im sorry but i uhhhhh genuinely don't know what ur talking abt lol, all izzy did was arrange for jack to lure them to blind man's cove and for the british to ambush the Revenge, and then for calico jack to get ed out of there before the british showed up. when ed didn't get out of there, he convinced badminton that setting the ambush up was enough "service to the crown" that they would hand ed over to him. most british soldiers probably wouldn't have taken that deal, but we know that badminton was so eager to get revenge for his brother that he was alright with letting the legendary blackbeard go so long as he got to see stede dead. but izzy definitely didn't sign an act of grace or anything. izzy didn't "give himself up"

i mean, this is just my opinion, but i don't think jack calling izzy sentimental is rlly proof that ed and izzy are Actually Close. for starters, jack does give the "what kind of pirate has a friend? we're all just in various stages of fucking each other over" line literally seconds later; he considers izzy "sentimental," but still not a friend. and, imo, the reason jack calls izzy sentimental is bc izzy probably had the opportunity to get a huge reward for turning blackbeard in, and bc jack is a huge asshole douchebag who can't keep a crew from mutinying against him, the idea of a first mate not wanting their captain to be captured by the british is sentimental, even tho that's kinda just. the literal job description of a first mate.

re: izzy putting the bows in ed's beard. ur right, that scene wasn't cut for being ooc. but because it didn't end up in the show, i feel kinda weird using it as evidence for the level of intimacy in ed and izzy's relationship in either direction. like, other than "izzy puts bows in ed's beard," we don't actually know how that scene went down. was izzy calmly following his captain's orders? was izzy blushing and stammering? were the two of them laughing about stupid costumes and disguises they've worn in past fuckeries? or was izzy glaring and seething? did ed have to come up with some lie about robbing the boat to get izzy to agree to help him get dressed? did the scene have the same vibe as when izzy couldn't get ed down from the harness in the beginning episode 6? we don't know! and sadly we probably will never know. it could've been something izzy was happy to do, or it could've been an order from his captain that izzy bitched and moaned abt the whole time. who's to say. all we know is that ed had izzy put bows in his beard. considering that ed's ordered izzy to track down some random rich guy who sucked at being a pirate, i feel like this is far from the weirdest thing ed's had izzy do for him.

re: we don't see ed talking to anyone other than izzy and stede. im kinda glad i couldn't make this reply right away, bc i saw this post a few hrs ago and it talks abt how ed's limited social interaction is somewhat by design on both izzy and ed's part. i personally rlly liked the takes ppl had, but my take is basically: ed probably isolates from other pirates for his own safety, and izzy does his best to keep ed isolated

re: ed excitedly dragging izzy around the revenge. yeah, showing someone the things ur excited abt is friend behavior, but izzy is very much not into it. in his defense, the spanish are closing in and izzy isn't aware that ed has a plan, but it's not like we ever see izzy share ed's joy in anything non-pirate related. from the way izzy's demeanor is mostly just weary frustration in episode 4 (up until the outfit swap, at which point he becomes properly pissed off), it makes me feel like this dynamic is pretty standard for them. in general, the vibe i get is that whenever ed shows interest in something that doesn't fit the image of "the legendary blackbeard, bloodthirsty scourge of the seas," izzy tolerates it at best or tries to shut it down at worst.

re: izzy saying he's been taking care of ed for a long time. i have seen. SO many posts (like, so so so fucking many (fair warning if u choose to check out all those links: lotta those posts get Really Long)) talking abt how izzy's whole rant abt "managing your increasingly erratic moods" and "massaging the crew when when they were worried about your judgement" is a massive load of bs. and personally, i'm inclined to agree?? you say we see izzy taking care of ed over and over again, but i rlly don't know what you're referring to. i can't think of a single time izzy provided emotional support for ed before stede leaves, and as for after stede leaves: yeah, izzy is probably the one who got ed the marmalade, but there is no evidence that he helped him build the blanket fort. we don't rlly see how izzy interacts with ed between the end of e9 and the start of e10, so it's hard to say how effective izzy was at dealing with ed's heartbreak depression, but considering ed didn't try to leave the room until after lucius goes in and gives him a free therapy session and starts actually cheering up when the crew all show him support, the conclusion im inclined to draw is that izzy sucks at "managing ed's increasingly erratic moods." if izzy has rlly spent years taking care of ed's emotions, and if ed and izzy have the kind of close intimate history that some fans seem to think they have, surely izzy would've gotten better at cheering ed up by now. the one caveat i suppose is that it seems unlikely that ed's ever experienced THIS level of heartbreak before stede, so izzy probably wasn't ready to handle it. but again, i can't think of any other time in the show where izzy even tries to successfully "manage" ed's mood.

(also, like. i don't rlly see ed's moods as being particularly erratic?? mayyyyybe he's more prone to mood swings before the show starts, but based off of what we see and know from the show, pretty much all ed's moods are like, pretty notmal and consistent reactions to the situations he's put in; the only person who seems to think ed is "insane" or "erratic" is izzy)

re: izzy grabbing fang's beard. i agree with you that izzy's line there is not so much a betrayal of ed's trust as it is izzy's way of trying to intimidate the crew into submission by banking on the reputation of blackbeard. but i feel like this is a pretty clear example of izzy's approach to "massaging the crew," and i... don't think it's an effective method. like, as far as i can tell, fang and ivan seem totally fine to keep following ed when he's relaxing his blackbeard persona and hanging out with the Revenge crew (ivan says ed's "open and available" in a way that makes it seem like he finds this to be a good thing, and fang was excited by the talent show and seems to be drinking a lot in the background once ed goes Full Kraken). izzy's management style is not as great as he seems to think it is. and because this casts izzy's claim of "massaging the crew" into doubt, it puts that whooole speech into doubt.

re: izzy and ed being casual around each other. i mean, a first mate is gonna spend a lot of time hanging around their captain. on a boat, which is kinda a very isolated and cramped environment. you're gonna get to a certain level of casual griping at each other. i don't really see this as evidence of an emotionally close relationship, just a comfortable one. which, after so many years of working together, of course they have that.

re: ur last paragraph. ok but like. izzy doesn't just say "im not friends with you anymore." izzy quite literally threatens ed's life. he insults ed's masculinity by calling him a namby pamby in a silk gown and tells edward to watch his back. he makes it clear to ed that unless he goes back to his old ways, ed is in danger. and again, by ed's definition of friendship, izzy and him already aren't friends (maybe never were). ed already knew that izzy didn't like when he did things that didn't align with the fearsome image of blackbeard. izzy being mad at him for singing songs and putting on a talent show probably isn't a surprise to him.

and for what it's worth, i don't think ed going full kraken is him being "pushed over the edge" into some kind of emotional breakdown. ed already had the emotional breakdown; he built a whole pillow fort over it! the way ed behaves, donning blackbeard once again and calmly going about putting izzy in his place—there's like, no emotion there. he's not angry. he's not erratic. he's fully in control of himself, and he's making these decisions for a reason.

more importantly tho, i don't think that reason actually comes from that convo with izzy, at least not entirely. i don't think that conversation is enough to "push him over the edge" on its own (he was fine with izzy leaving from the Revenge after the duel with stede, wasn't he? he smiled through izzy's very colorful resignation). ed's just been abandoned by the only person we see him refer to as a friend in the entire show; he's shown stede the squishy vulnerable part of himself that everyone else has rejected, he's thrown away everything to be with stede, and as far as he's aware, stede saw more of ed teach than anyone has in decades and decided he didn't want it. he's been abandoned for being himself. and when he goes back to the crew and sings his song and starts recovering from that heartbreak he's suffered, izzy comes at him and threatens his life. and if what you meant was that this conversation is the final straw for ed, i don't really agree with that either! bc in that scene, right after ed leaves, we hear the crew call out for ed. for eddie. and that is the moment that ed—still heartbroken from stede, freshly reeling from izzy—decides to retreat back into blackbeard.

these posts go into it so, so well, better than i could (and they're a shorter read than all those other posts i linked before). to borrow some quotes:

And we also seem to be agreed that this is sparked because the crew shout "Hey Ed, sing us another song!" and start chanting his name, and this hearkens back to "Play something for us, Jeff." They're a fickle crowd.

#connecting that with what happened at the dinner party #and the social anxiety trauma from that ... There's a connection there, with him not being able to read the situation correctly when he was out of his element and probably now thinking "is this the same?"

And finally, the crew. This crew stuttered in fear when they met him. This crew couldn't stop calling him sir and hung on his every word. They believed in the reputation of Blackbeard, and they feared and respected it. And yet so quickly, when he showed softness, that fear vanished. They rushed to call him by his given name and make demands of him. They saw him vulnerable and they stopped treating him as a captain. Ed can't count on his crew.

(oouohg baby that last quote is from the 2nd post i listed and god it's one of my favorite fucking metas. christ.)

aaaand last but not least!!! re: why would either of them do what they do if they didn’t have a close relationship. (this was in the middle of your post but i saved it for the end bc it felt like a good jumping off point for me to basically elaborate on the stance i made in my original post. bc that one sentence doesn't fully convey my interpretation of these characters)

so for starters. i dont exactly know what specifically u mean by "do what they do," but im gonna guess u mean like, ed telling izzy to stay at the end of episode 4, izzy challenging stede to a duel, izzy going to jackie and the british to try and get ed back, ed immediately asking for izzy to chat when he gets back from the pirate naval academy, and so on. so! Why Are Ed and Izzy Like That:

again, this is just my interpretation, and a lot of the details i could probably be persuaded against, but the reason i would give for Why They're Like That is that once upon a time, ed genuinely had a blast being blackbeard, and he and izzy got along much better. they had each other's backs in raids, probably saved each other's lives more than once, but they also probably didn't know each other very well outside of piracy. as ed got more bored, he would try and express interest in other things, but izzy wasn't bored yet. izzy was ecstatic to be number 2 for the biggest baddest guy around and he didn't want that to end.

that last part i'm pretty much 100% sure abt; when izzy talks abt managing the crew and ed's mood swings, the reason he gives is that he was honored to work for the legendary blackbeard. not that ed was his friend, or that he cared abt ed, or that he and ed had been through it all together, or that he helped build ed's legacy. he's honored to work for blackbeard. this, in my mind, answers the izzy half of Why Do They Do That. i feel like a lot of ppl consider loyalty to a legend to be unrealistic, that izzy must have deeper feelings than just hero worship to do the things he does for ed. but like, the secret service isn't willing to jump in front of a bullet for joe biden, they're willing to jump in front of a bullet for the president of the united states. dedicating your life, risking and giving your life, to an idea that's bigger than the man that stands behind it... that's literally a thing that ppl do irl all the time. blackbeard is izzy's potus, basically, and he doesn't want that legend to die. he would rather kill ed than let that happen. it would be a betrayal of everything izzy has worshiped and worked towards for the past however many years.

as for ed's side of Why Do They Do That: Divorce Era for Pirates Who Never Even Dated. im gonna be real the only things ed's done that i can think of that could arguably imply a deep emotional connection w izzy are 1. try and include izzy in his excitement abt stede's ship, 2. tell izzy to stay after the lighthouse fuckery, and 3. immediately asking izzy to bring him tea when he gets back from the pirate academy. so, here's why i think ed did those things:

including izzy in his excitement abt stede's ship. like you said before, we don't really see ed interact that much with a lot of characters, and there is a level of comfortable casualness between ed and izzy that ed doesn't seem to have with a lot of characters. i've admitted that ed trying to include izzy in his excitement is friend behavior, but i've also said that ed's definition of friendship seems to be more like. intense. or vulnerable, i guess. like i said, i think this is probably not the first time ed has tried to chat with izzy abt things other than Being Pirates, but i don't think they were ever met with much enthusiasm. i think the reason that ed still tries tho is bc izzy is one of the only ppl ed like, regularly talks to. so i feel like even tho ed knows he's not gonna get the response he wants, he's still going to talk to izzy when he's like, giddy with excitement abt this rich guy's weird boat (and ALSO i wanna point out that those scenes seem to be izzy following ed around; i don't think ed was seeking out izzy's company, but while izzy was there nagging him abt the spanish ed was gonna take the opportunity to talk abt how much fun he's having)

telling izzy to stay after the lighthouse fuckery. ok so my interpretation of the whole "murder stede and take his identity" plan seems to differ from most ppl's take on that plot point, which is to say that i actually do think ed planned to kill stede (or have someone else kill stede) and take his identity. i think ed rlly liked stede, but he was still operating in pirate mode, where the only way to get what you want is to take it, and what ed wanted was to retire from piracy and roll around in luxury in the upper class. as for how that progressed to ed signing the act of grace and kissing stede on the beach, that's another post; point is that ed was planning to kill stede, and he did need izzy there for that. if he was gonna hang around this ship and learn to be fancy, he needed his first mate there to have his back.

telling izzy to bring him tea when he returned from the pirate academy. for one thing, we never actually see how ed and izzy interacted while ed was in his depression fort, so it's hard to say how much ed was rlly telling him. his tone when he says "i'll take tea in my room" is pretty quiet, and he does pretty quickly duck out of there without actually meeting anyone's eyes, but like. did ed cry in front of him the way he did with lucius? or did he just order izzy to bring him stuff and brush off any questions izzy had abt what happened while he was gone? did izzy actually ask any questions, or did izzy just start asking ed what the plan was and when they were gonna get moving? did they hang out, or did ed try to get izzy out of there as soon as possible? did izzy try to get out of that room as soon as possible? now that i am typing these questions down i am literally dying to know what actually happened in that room before lucius went in, but i doubt we'll ever get to see that. point is that much like the ribbons in ed's beard scene, we don't rlly know what happened in there, so it's hard to use as evidence either way. (my headcannon, unsurprisingly, is that ed just asked izzy to bring him stuff, brushed off any questions izzy had, and tried to be alone as much as possible. and then he also cried a lot whenever he was alone and only called for izzy (and then lucius) when he wasn't in tears. but that's just headcannon, i'm not gonna try and argue that that's irrefutably what happened)

so yeah. izzy Does All That bc he's obsessed w the idea of blackbeard. ed Does All That bc izzy is the closest thing he has to a friend (but by his own admission he doesn't consider izzy his friend) and has a long history of having ed's back when it comes to pirate shit, even if they aren't emotionally vulnerable the way ed wants (and a quick note abt your line that "'emotionally vulnerable' is Ed’s state of being right now and has for awhile": i... do not agree lmao. ed's been looking for something new, and he's probably tried to reach out and open up to izzy in his own way a few times, but i don't think izzy's been giving ed what he wants. but i don't think ed ever opened up in a way that was truly vulnerable, not until stede, or else he already would've gotten that harsh rejection from izzy that we see in episode 10.)

in conclusion: sorry if i made u mad with my original post. also sorry if i made u mad with this reply!!! it's not my intention to come after ppl who interpret the show differently than i do, all i meant by the original post is that im confused by ppl who interpret the show in that way, not that my interpretation is better or more correct. however i am obsessed with this show and if given the chance i will talk abt why i interpret this show and these characters the way i do. as you can very clearly see, lmao.

anyway literally all of this is just my opinion tho, please do not take me too seriously lmao. im literally just a random bitch obsessed w gay pirates. you and i very clearly disagree abt many things going on w this show, but i don't see that as a bad thing!! if anything, it's kinda cool to me how many ways this show can be read. and like, who knows, maybe season two will give more insight into their relationship and show that there's more between ed and izzy than i currently think, in which case i'll eat my words! as of right now i still don't fully understand the interpretation of them being friends, but at the end of the day that is a me problem.

EDIT: wait also fuck fhjghkdfjhg im gonna answer ur first question even tho u probably meant it rhetorically. yes i've 100% had a moment where my self worth was at rock bottom and i told someone that i ‘didn’t have any friends’ even if there were people that would absolutely consider me a friend. what i would say abt that moment of my life was not that i literally did not have any friends who i could talk to, but that there was nobody in my life (aside from like, my parents) that i felt would make an effort to hang out with me outside of the times when our routines would naturally force us together, like school or clubs or whatever (and also this took place during summer break and i was still to young to drive, so i didn't have school to give me any social interactions and i didn't have a car to get anywhere. this was an incredibly fun period of my life). i feel like this kinda makes my original point stronger, tho? like, i wasn't saying i had no friends, i was saying i didn't have any relationships at the level of intimacy i needed. ed was saying the same exact thing. maybe ed's relationship w izzy could be described as friendship, but it wasn't giving the level of emotional intimacy ed needed. which again, makes me struggle to understand some people's interpretation of ed and izzy's relationship. but again!! that's just me lol

no offense to any fans this applies to but im so fucking baffled by ppl who think ed and izzy have an intimate and emotionally vulnerable history as if ed doesn't literally tell stede he doesn't have any friends