#which in no way contains any actual dogs

[jdorian]

Wip Wednesday 🎄

I shared a small tidbit from this yesterday, but here's a little longer one this time 💕

Eddie was holding a bag of M&Ms in one hand while twisting garlands around the railings by the stairs with the other. They were putting up the Christmas decorations around the station during a lull and while Eddie was all for the Christmas spirit, the garlands didn't seem too keen on cooperating.

“Pass me one?” Buck walked up to him, both his arms tangled up in a big knot of Christmas lights and on the top of his head, pushing into his perfectly coiffed hair sat a frankly ridiculous hairband with a set of floppy white ears, decorated by big black blotches to resemble a dalmatian.

“What are you wearing?” Eddie frowned at the dog ear hanging down just beside his birthmark.

Buck looked up like he could see the top of his own head if he just tried hard enough. “Must’ve been left here from Halloween. Cute, right?”

"Sure."

Well, it was cute.

That still didn't explain why he felt the need to put it on, but Eddie had more important things to worry about, namely the damned garland that kept on slipping off of the railing and bunching up on the bottom.

“So, are you gonna give me one?” Buck tried again, eyeing the small bag of candy in Eddie’s hand.

“Ask nicely.” Eddie quipped, mainly just to be a little shit but as always, Buck was game.

He ducked his chin, jostling the dog ears on the top of his head and batted his eyelashes a little cartoonishly, then after an elongated whine of pretty please, he stuck his tongue out expectantly.

Eddie rolled his eyes and plopped a big green one onto Buck’s tongue. “Here.”

tags under the cut 💛

I was tagged by the lovely @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 and @malewifediaz mwuah mwuah 💛

✨and totally no pressure tagging: @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @disasterbuckdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998

[pynkhues]

I hope this doesn't seem like a pressuring ask but I was curious if you were planning to finish like a dogless bone? Under the circumstances it's understandable and within your right to leave the fic incomplete but I was wondering if it was going to be completed. And if you choose to update please update at your leisure, I support you whatever you decide and I know many other readers also support you and want you to be safe.

It doesn't seem pressuring at all, anon! Honestly, I haven't opened the doc since that last round of threats and harrassment on Thursday, which is kind of a bummer, because I suspect that was a part of the intent, especially given I increasingly do think those negative comments on Ungodly Hour were probably from the same cohort of people. I do still plan on finishing it though, and am actually even planning on having a look at it this afternoon, so wish me luck! :-)

[ceilidho]

soap developing an unhealthy attachment to his therapist post his brush with death after being shot at point blank range. he was reluctant to see a therapist at first because he didn't like what it said about him that he was being more or less strong armed into seeing a shrink (like no one trusts him anymore; they don't think his head's on straight since being shot), but as time goes on, he grows to cherish the relationship he's cultivated with his therapist because,

well,

she understands him. she listens to him. where everyone else seems to want him to just hurry up and get better (the nightmares, the mid-sentence brain fog, the erratic mood swings, the silent brooding when he can't find the words, aphasia on the tip of his tongue, the constant, constant headaches and auditory hallucinations that he can't seem to kick), she doesn't put any pressure on him to heal right away. she works with him and his medical team; gives him the space to process what happened to him, and has a seemingly bottomless wealth of patience for him.

he can talk for hours in her presence. it's a shame their time together is limited to an hour and a half every week. the dulcet sound of her voice is such a comfort to him. it's a shame she politely but firmly rejects his advances when he finally asks her out, tells him that it wouldn't even be appropriate for them to be friends outside of his sessions. that it would in some way hinder his healing journey. which pisses him off because Soap has progressed in leaps and bounds since those early days when he used to stumble over his words sitting on the couch across from her, head in his hands when the language felt beyond his grasp, a fine tremor still running through his hands that he's since managed to contain,

and

his head is throbbing again. a sharp pain above his eye that pulsates like a drum in his head and -

he thinks about her constantly. in and out of sessions. she's a frequent topic of conversation when the brass finally lets him back out in the field, Makarov finally dealt with (resting six feet deep in an unmarked grave). he ignores the looks oscillating between concern and worry that Price gives him. ignores the way Ghost barks at him to quit bothering the bird in the tight skirt and fuck someone that won't get him discharged. ignores the way Gaz pulls him to the side to ask if maybe he needs to see another therapist, y'know, mate...get some distance.

they act like this is something new. an abberation and not his very nature. like he hasn't always been the type to lock onto a scent like a hunting dog. a sniper by training. he sits and he watches and he waits; waits for the right moment that he alone knows.

it comes to him on an inauspicious day, when he's leaving the training facilities and spots his sweet thing rummaging around in the boot of her car, her ass beckoning him forward like a siren's call. now, now, now, the little itch in his head says, the voice that knows when the time is right. it's a sense acquired through conscious and unconscious observation, letting it all filter into his frontal cortex until he knows without knowing that the parking lot is empty apart from the two of them and the men at the base gates half a mile away.

it would take nothing for him to come up behind her and push her into the boot. nothing to wrestle the purse from her hands and slam the trunk shut. nothing to drive off base with a flick of his fingers to the guards that hardly ever bother to question him before he leaves (though they know what car he actually drives), made complacent by familiarity.

and he knows that it's wrong, knows that there's a line that he shouldn't cross, that choices have consequences, but,

his mouth salivates when her hips twitch, the urge to take settling over him. surely they'd forgive him one indiscretion.

[player380]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- disco pang pang

━━━ ↳ ❝ [ se-mi x f! reader ] ¡! ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PART TWO in which you try out the infamous disco pang pang ride with your friends in incheon, south korea, and end up having the ride moderator attempt to set you up with the stoic, pretty woman sitting next to you┊2.1k words

contains: potential ooc se-mi (we don't really know too much about her but my hyperfixation has deluded me to believe my own headcanons that were created by the bit we saw her in s2), fluff, some minor hints of sexual content, wlw, teaser x teased, & non-canonical nonsense, au!! the games never took place & se-mi is lowkey loaded (which i may write more about in another fic idea i have oops), i also am not very sure of any korean customs (im a white american) so please please please let me know if any of the manners of this are wrong so i can correct it, also this has not been proofread yet so enjoy any spelling or grammar errors <3

After much debate with your close girl friends, that you were on a trip into the big city with, they had practically dragged you to the long line of awaiting people to try out this silly ride. Each of their hands clasped tightly around your sweaty palms, forcing your feet to shuffle into your spot at the back of the line. It was a warm spring day, the sun beating down only to be combated by a pleasant breeze. So, of course, most would find themselves spending the day at the Wolmi Theme Park in South Korea. The three of you had already spent the majority of the day entertaining yourselves with other rides, though with yourself often choosing to opt out of riding many--given rollercoasters had a habit of making you queasy. Yet, after much convincing and deliberation, you had allowed them to take you on this ride. They had claimed that it wasn't that scary, and was oftentimes quite fun. But as you got into line and saw the ever-moving ride your stomach dropped and your face paled. Laughter and screams echoed around as the current set of riders were being bounced up and down whilst the ride spun everyone in round in differing speeds. As you watched this, you couldn't help but feel the corn dogs you just had thirty-minutes prior rising their way through your innards.

While you stood there, mouth agape, your friends had busied themselves with calling their boyfriends back home in the countryside. Snapping you out of your scared daze, was a smooth laugh from beside--even smoother words following in pursuit.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," a woman laughed from beside you, your eyes narrowing as they traveled up the body beside you in line. Taking notice of her skinny ripped black jeans, the loose tank top that had a bit of the side tucked into the waistband of her jeans, and a black leather jacket over her shoulders. Her face was adorned in few piercings: just one silver ring on her lip, the other a silver ring on her left nostril (a gem-incrusted sun on where the ring met the visible skin). Her hair was short, some strands of her black hair covering the right side of her head slightly. Her narrow features complimented her stylistic choices. And by all means: the woman was completely, and utterly gorgeous.

After a few minutes of silence, your eyes only widening upon seeing the pretty woman, she spoke up again. "Are you alright? Surely you haven't actually seen a ghost," she replied, her thin brows furrowing slightly as she stared at you--her head cocked to the side just a hair. She was concerned for your wellbeing. How cute.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," you blinked, snapping out of your haze and returning your gaze to the still-moving ride--swallowing hard. "I just don't like rides like this," you added and nodded awkwardly. "Not really my thing."

The woman beside you nodded, letting out a quiet hum as her gaze follows yours up to the ride. "It's not that bad," she commented, letting out a quiet laugh. "Just make sure to hold on tight."

"What?" You asked, misunderstanding her words and her eyes widening slightly.

The woman laughed harder, shaking her head. "The bars, hold on tight to the bars," she corrected, tilting her head. "Or your friends."

You suddenly felt the presence of your two friends who had gotten off facetime with their partners, and were now standing beside you once more--staring at the taller woman with slightly furrowed brows. The woman just nodded once, before turning back around and facing the front of the line. Leaving you to suffer the teasing looks and questions from your friends for the remainder of the wait in line.

Eventually, after growing slightly impatient from standing still for so long, it was finally your group's turn to file onto the circular ride. The eager group of riders all excitedly piled on, sounds of annoyed groans coming from the people who were cut off and had to wait another round.

Your friends rushed to a spot, sitting on the seats and giggling excitedly. Their hands reached behind themselves to grab the plastic and metal bars--wrapping their arms around the slick material in hopes to stay (mostly) still throughout the ride.

You sat there awkwardly, trying to mimic your friend's actions but you found yourself struggling to keep yourself comfortable. You didn't realize the woman who was in front of you in line was sitting beside you until you felt her hands gently guiding your arms to wrap around the bars--her hand resting there for a moment and looking over you.

"Comfy?" She asked you, raising a brow slightly.

Your face, now red, moved up to meet her gaze--nodding awkwardly. "Yeah, thanks," you said, voice quiet, and pressing a small smile up as another bout of gratitude. Her dark eyes traveled over you for a second, smiling and giving a nod back. She moved to sit beside you, leaving the width of a person and a half between you two.

Unfortunately for your humility, the ride moderator had noticed the small interaction and so once the ride started slowly spinning--your face all but heated when you heard the moderator's loud voice call out your descriptor over the speakers. Little did you know the running internet joke that if the moderator called you out, you were done for.

"Are you two together?" The male moderator's voice called out, "you, tweed skirt and the h/c hair. And you, short black hair and the leather jacket," he described. Your heart all but dropped. Before you could reply, the woman next to you beat you to it:

"No, we aren't," she yelled, her voice loud over the mechanics of the machine and the loud sounds from around the theme park.

"Do you want to be?" The moderator called out, a hint over amusement carrying over in his voice.

You shook your head, laughing awkwardly. "No, no it's okay. I came here with my friends," you replied, brows furrowing in embarrassment--trying to ignore the giggles from your friends beside you.

"Ah, no, no, let me fix that," the moderator said, laughing, and your heart dropped from his mischievous tone.

Suddenly, the ride was tilted all the way to the left side and began bouncing slightly. Lifting you up and down from your seat, your sweaty hands barely holding onto the plastic bars as gravity tried to pull you to where the woman beside you was sitting. She seemed to keep her body planted firmly--hardly moving. The ups and downs got harsher, and before you knew it, one of your arms slipped from the bar and you fell slightly down to your left. You felt another leg wrap around yours--realizing it was the woman's, who was trying to keep you steady so you didn't fall.

You grunted as you moved to steady yourself back onto the seat, pulling your leg from hers and attempting to grab back onto the bars. Before you could succeed, another unexpected bump made your other arm slip--letting out a yelp as you stumbled off the seat and about to start rolling on the metal floor of the ride. You didn't go very far before you found your body ensnared by both the woman's legs--holding your torso tightly as to make sure you didn't fall anymore.

As the bumps continued, you felt one of her hands grab your arm and pull you up--setting you on her lap. Your face burned with embarrassment and awkwardness at the entire situation--wishing you hadn't even let your friends convince you to get on this stupid ride to begin with. Her legs entangled with yours, an arm wrapping around your waist and pressing your back tight against her front. Her fingers found purchase on your hip, pressing into the part tightly.

"Are you okay?" She asked, tilting her head so her mouth was right next to your ear, her voice quiet. God was her voice attractive.

You nodded, the consistent bumps making the two of you rise up from your seats occasionally--but your landings were cushioned by the woman's body beneath you. It was almost strangely nice. No. You shouldn't think like that. She was an entire stranger. "Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," you replied, turning your head slightly--though not realizing how close your faces would be. You quickly turned your head back around forward--your cheeks the color of a tomato.

As the ride continued on, the moderator still continued to pick on the two of you, moving you two around. Even with the woman's firm grip on your body, you had somehow ended up turned around--your legs straddling her hips. Her jacket had been moved to wrap around your waist so no one could see how your skirt rid up, allowing some form of modesty. There were some other instances of other people flailing around and landing on others, however you could hardly pay any mind to the others on this ride given your situation. This continued on throughout the ride's duration, before eventually the machine came to a stop--the moderator thanking everyone, though still finding a way to insert a tease about the two women's interactions throughout the ride.

You shakily got off of the woman--pulling your skirt down and untying the jacket around your waist, holding it back out to her. "Um, thanks for this. And for making sure I don't fall," you muttered, looking down at your feet. When she took the jacket, you quickly took off and found your friends at the exit of the ride--trying to ignore the burning throughout your body as their incessant teases fueled your embarrassment.

Before you could get far, a female voice called out and you turned around--your eyes widening as the woman before approached, slightly out of breath from the small jog. Your friends looked at each other with raised brows, both backing away to leave you two to yourselves.

"Oh-- um, hi," you said, brows furrowing slightly. "Did you need something?"

"How long are you in Incheon for? Or do you live here?" She asked, her chest still rising up and down with rapid breaths. She almost sounded hopeful, and a bubbly filling filled your stomach. As if someone had opened a cage of butterflies between your ribcages.

You blinked, looking away from her for a moment. "No, I don't live here. Just visiting with my friends... but I'm not sure. A couple more days, at least. We didn't really have an end date. Why?" You asked, licking your lips slightly--and you watched as her eyes flickered to your slightly damp, pink lips for a moment before she looked back up at your eyes.

"Let me take you sight-seeing around the city, yeah?" She asked, despite her cool demeanor, she almost seemed nervous. "You don't have to, but it'd--"

"Sure," you cut her off, flashing an almost-nervous smile of your own. "I'd like that, my friends and I aren't really super knowledgeable around anyway. I'm sure they'd like it too."

Her face flickered with some unknown expression and she shook her head. "No, not them. Just you... and I," she said, sucking in a long breath.

"Oh," you breathed, your brows raising. "Yeah, my answer is still the same. I would like that," you answered, emphasizing the 'I' in your sentence. The woman nodded, any nervousness or tension immediately lifted from her demeanor.

"Good," she said, grinning. "Let me get your number," she said--pulling out her phone from her back pocket, opening it, and shoving it in your direction with the screen showing an empty contact form to fill out. You nodded, and took the phone to begin typing in some things in each slot. "I'm Se-mi, by the way," she added, her eyes watching you intently--studying every and all aspect of your face.

Once you finished, you looked back up at Se-mi and handed her phone. "Well... just give me a message, Se-mi. I should be free, well, if I can ever escape those two for a moment," she laughed, tilting her head back to where her friends stood--watching the two of you interact with large grins.

Se-mi nodded, watching your form retreat as you handed her phone back and went back to your friends who immediately began pestering you for information on your new 'hot date', as they called it. She looked back down at her phone, studying your name on the contact--trying to burn it into her memory.

"Y/n...," she said slowly, nodding as she enjoyed the feel of it on her tongue. Knowing full well she was going to be saying that name for a long time. Or, well, at least she hoped.

Who knew your friends dragging you onto a silly ride could lead to any of this.

[servicpop]

HOW WOULD DRY HUMPING WITH UR OCS BE LIKE? LIKE WHOS MORE DESPRATE THAN THE OTHER WHO STARTED IT YK LIKE " U FELL FIRST HE FELL HARDER " BUT WITH DRY HUMPING LIKE IS READER THE ONE THATS IMPATIENT OR THEM ? IF SO WHICH WAY WOULD IT BE WITH EACH OC

wait this lowke don't make sense ✋IM SORRY I TRIED😭

LIKE WHOS DESPRATE U OR HIM

-💋anon

back from the dead 👊👊

glad you asked ! ( sorry this took so long I lowkey left this in my drafts TT )

Adrien would surely be the more desperate one. He's always been a little crazy when it comes to you. Actual sex was hard since there's always been people surrounding them , so at any given moment Adrien would find a chance to grind up against you. It would be in the middle of class during an activity where he's standing nonchalantly behind you, rubbing himself up against your ass, no one could see what was happening behind you. Or it would be at home where he's idly humping your leg like a dog, trying to get your attention if you're on your phone.

Vallen wouldn't be the desperate one or at least it would be rare for him to be. It would be a quiet night except for the soft tapping of keys on Vallen's keyboard. He's busy alot of the time, seeing as he was the CEO of a greatly known company. Lifting his chin up, he could see you slowly make your way to his chair, a cute pout on your face. "What is it?" He would chuckle softly, patting his thigh as an invitation. It's been practically a week without any action, Vallen could scarily contain his desires for ages. He wouldn't even bother giving into your whines and pleads, letting you pathetically hump his thigh, chasing any sort of friction. Truly a cruel man!

Cole would definitely be desperate. When cuddling, you as the little spoon, Cole would find a way to instinctively rub his hips against your back before mumbling a small apology and turning the other way in shame. He can't help it but he feels so embarrassed by it! Everytime he sees you out and about, all prettied up for your shows, he can't help the heat that pools between his legs or those butterflies that violently swivel around in his stomach. He finds himself clinging to your body, grinding against you like a dog in heat. He's extremely patient though, if you don't seem like you want it too, Cole would eventually just opt for cuddling — that served as his pleasure anways.

Callahan surprisingly (or not) would be the more desperate one. After work, after he undoes his tie and slings his coat off, he goes straight to you, placing himself right ontop of you like a big, brown bear. Callahan's body basically blanket's you, and his weight is enough to pull complaints from your lips, but he doesn't care. He shifts you slightly to turn onto your stomach and his large forearms cage your head in. He's pressing you down with his weight, roughly grinding into you through his work trousers. But he gets impatient, its been a long day at work and all he wants is his bratty little boyfriend clawing at his shoulders and tears staining the pillowcase. You can probably tell what happens after.

[multifandomimagin3s]

Reader sits on their face and breaks their neck - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

requested by @daniel-meyer-03 contains sexual content (obvs), minors dni

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He always encourages you to put your whole weight onto his face - doesn't matter what size you are, he loves being smothered by your thighs.

His tongue is lapping your wetness like a man starved, when he mis-times his movements completely, feeling his neck go 'pop.'

He halts his movements with a grunt, head falling flat against the mattress; you raise yourself back off his face so sit at his side, as his hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck.

"Ah shit, that doesn't feel good."

He'd be pissy in the ambulance, purely because he wasn't allowed to put his balaclava on before he left and he's not happy about the Paramedics seeing his face.

Since he's legally dead, I reckon Price would have to pull some strings to get him seen in a private hospital to try and keep things hush hush.

He would be a grumpy guy when he has to wear one of those neck supports for the next few weeks," I look like a twat."

Isn't annoyed at you in the slightest - in fact it's quite the opposite, you had to tell him 'no' more than once when he suggested you sit on his face again, neck brace be damned.

"Would be a hell of a way to die, Love."

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

This would probably one of many sex-related injuries he's had in the past.

Pulled his hamstring and a few muscles in his back one night when you two were really going at it.

Slipped during shower sex and almost took you to the ground with him.

Has banged his head off the headboard during missionary more times than you can count.

So it's fair to say that considering he's in the SAS, he's really accident prone.

Would wear the neck brace with pride, wouldn’t care if the team took the piss out of him for it - and for how he got injured in the process.

Even when his neck was in agony, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Considering how this happened in the first place, cannae really complain, Darlin'."

If he felt any awkwardness he didn't show it - even in the Emergency Department, he wasn't shy when he was asked how he hurt himself, which made you flush bright red each time.

Would probably act like a big baby when he'd given medical leave.

Being able to just be with you, cuddling and spending time together, was amazing - and he'd been given 6 weeks off, so he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Oh, and like Ghost, he absolutely wouldn't be deterred by the experience in the slightest.

But is maybe a bit more mindful to put a pillow under his neck the next time he asks you to sit on his face.

Captain John Price

I reckon his neck is probably fucked already - like the muscles in his neck get so tight that sometimes he struggles to turn his head.

It's the norm for him.

But when he feels a sudden pop sensation just above his nape, he knows that something isn't right.

Probably would have encouraged you to continue riding his face if it wasn't for the intense pain shooting up his neck.

Would refuse to go to the hospital - "I've had worse on the field, Love, I'll be fine."

It wasn't until you pushed him into going for an x-ray that he realised he'd actually injured himself.

Wouldn't tell a soul what happened - not even the Doctors.

His private life stays just that - private.

Would grumble like an old man when he has to put the supportive collar on; "I look like a bloody dog when it's had its knackers cut off..."

Also wouldn't be annoyed at you at all - in fact, he promises that as soon as he's given the all clear to stop wearing "this bloody thing" he wants you back on his face.

Captains orders ~

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Mans is just confused as fuck.

One minute you're riding his face, his hands on your ass guiding your movements.

The next he's in agony - and then in an ambulance.

It isn't until a Doctor reviews his x-rays with him that he finally clicks on to what happened.

You rode his face...and broke his neck.

The realisation has him breaking into a fit of laughter - which mildly concerns the clinical staff.

He's in the military, risks his life on the regular - and the worst injury he's gained so far is from oral.

He's honestly nearly pissing himself from laughter, which makes you laugh too.

The neck brace doesn't even bother him one bit - the medical leave is a bonus in his eyes because he gets to spend more quality time with you.

Doesn't tell the Team how it happened - but Soap put the pieces together in his head, and is clapping Gaz on the back with booming laughter at the realisation.

"Fuckin' hell mate, that's one way tae do it!"

Alejandro Vargas

Like Soap, he's a bit too happy considering the situation he's in.

He's a passionate man, so getting an injury during sex doesn't bother him at all.

Usually he's very co-ordinated and he definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom.

So fuck knows how he managed to practically break his neck whilst you were riding his face.

One wrong jerky move of his head and the next - searing pain.

Also is a grumpy guy when he's wearing the neck brace.

Would definitely play on it a bit, giving you the big brown puppy dog eyes so you'd give him more cuddles and affection; "Mi Amor, it hurts less when you're by my side ~"

Definitely would still try and initiate sex despite being told to take it easy.

Would happily let you ride him on the couch - his typical positions weren't on the cards but any angle he gets of your amazing body brings him bliss.

Gets the brace off...and probably injures himself again because he was a bit too eager to finish what he started.

Rudy Parra

Like his comrade, he's also a very passionate lover.

Apparently, a bit too passionate.

Which is why he was currently sat on your couch, arms crossed over his chest with a slightly annoyed expression.

He's not annoyed at you - he's annoyed that he didn't get to finish what he started.

Rudy was having the time of his life, smothered between your thighs, and he probably would've kept going had it not been you that hurriedly hopped off his face when he let out a pained groan.

Would probably try and convince you to let him continue where you left off.

But the hospital staff would probably be less impressed if he ended up back in the Emergency Department because he hurt himself further.

So he waits...impatiently.

As soon as the Doctor gives him the all clear, he practically dives between your legs.

He has to make up for lost time ;)

König

The poor guy is mortified - he’s not angry at you, not one bit, but that trip to the hospital is one that he’ll never forget.

Doesn’t like social situations, or hospitals for that matter, so being in a busy A&E department really was making him feel gradually worse by the minute.

That and he still had a bit of a *ahem* problem since your activities got interrupted.

Wearing a neck brace wouldn't bother him too much - as long as he can still wear his hood, he's happy.

Speaking of which, imagine the poor doctors trying to persuade him to take it off so they can examine his neck.

Thankfully he doesn't have to go on-base wearing the support - he'd probably die of embarrassment if Horangi found out what exactly happened, because then the entire base would find out no doubt.

Somehow, his comrade finds out anyways, and texts his friend some thumbs up emojis; "Way to go, big guy, best way to end up in the ER ;)"

After he gets the brace off and has to take it easy for a bit he'd be a bit sad since having you sitting on his face is his all time favourite position :(

Still, he improvises - and when he has your knees pressed to your chest and his mouth is writing the alphabet between your thighs, you would never complain ~

[pickingupmymercedes]

London Boy - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: London boy - Taylor Swift

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff and christmassy

a/n: I just had to incorporate Christmas into this, London comes alive.

wordcount: +2k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

It started innocently enough: a quiet morning with the smell of the coffee I was sipping, my mind half-heartedly scrolling through some of yesterday’s work emails and Roscoe sprawled at my feet, living his best bulldog life.

I had a plan—a simple one really—to find the Christmas decorations buried somewhere in Lewis’s London townhouse and get a head start before I had to log on for work. Simple, right?

Wrong.

The first box I opened contained a jumble of outdoor lights that had more knots than my last relationship.

The second? A single, lonely stocking with "Lewis" stitched in glittery red thread. Roscoe, perched nearby, watched me with the kind of judgment only a dog could muster, as if to say, This isn’t going to cut it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, tugging at a particularly stubborn tangle in the excuse of a tinsel. “It’s not my fault your dad doesn’t know how to Christmas.”

“Please tell me there’s more,” I muttered, sifting through the pile.

Ten minutes later, I had exactly one usable string of lights and even those were iffy. Roscoe tilted his head, his expression unreadable but clearly unimpressed. “C’mom, you live part time here too, buddy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lewis’s voice floated in from the doorway, and I turned to find him leaning against the frame, still sweaty from his morning workout.

I gestured dramatically at the underwhelming collection of decorations spread across the living room. “This. Where’s the rest of it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “The rest of what?”

“Your Christmas stuff! You’re telling me this—” I held up the sad, glitter-bald stocking. “—is all you’ve got?”

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to figure out the least incriminating way to answer. “I’m not usually home in December.”

“That’s not an excuse.” I folded my arms. “Where are the ornaments? The lights? The reindeer?”

“You mean the inflatables?” he asked, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said, holding up the tinsel like it was a crime scene. “Where’s the Target around here?”

Lewis smirked, crossing his arms. “You’re painfully American, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me for wanting to salvage your dignity,” I shot back, though I couldn’t help smiling.

“Okay, no Target,” he said, crossing the room and taking a seat beside Roscoe, who immediately shifted to rest his head on Lewis’s lap. “But if you really want to do it right, I’ll show you how Londoners do Christmas. No plastic snowmen required.”

“What have you got in mind?” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “I need to work in a couple of hours”

He stood, dusting off his hands. “Call in sick, it’s an emergency apparently."

By the time we were ready to leave, Roscoe was snoring in his dog bed, having made it very clear he actually had no interest in braving the London chill for a day of wandering. “I’ll make it up to you later, buddy,” I promised, scratching his ears. “Extra cuddles tonight. Deal?”

He snorted but didn’t open his eyes, which I took as a yes.

“Ready?” Lewis called from the living room, where he was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing a black hoodie under a long coat, a beanie pulled low over his curls, and a pair of sneakers so understated they were practically anonymous. It was a far cry from his usual fashion statements, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Look at you, blending in,” I teased, grabbing my coat.

“Laugh all you want,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. “But I’d like to get through today without anyone noticing me.”

He could’ve passed for any handsome Londoner with his toned-down attire and hands stuffed casually in his pockets. I, however, couldn’t help feeling like I had a flashing neon sign over my head reading: Not local.

We opted for the ‘tube’ over driving, partly because Lewis claimed it was faster and partly because he knew arriving in a Maybach was bound to attract attention.

But as we descended into the tube station, I noticed his posture shift slightly. He was alert, scanning the crowd with the ease of someone used to blending in but always watching for that one double-take.

“Do people ever stop you on the streets?” I asked, glancing around as we boarded the train.

“Not as often as you’d think,” he said, keeping his voice low and pulling me closer under the guise of adjusting my scarf. “Just don’t want us to get stopped.”

As the train rattled along, I found myself relaxing. A few people glanced our way, but no one seemed to recognize him—or if they did, they were polite enough not to say anything.

It was also midmorning, the kind of lull between commuter rushes where everyone seemed too distracted to care about celebrity sightings.

As the train rocked gently along the tracks, I caught Lewis studying the map on the wall, his brow furrowed like he hadn’t ever lived here.

“You lost already?” I teased, nudging him lightly.

“Not lost. Just making sure I don’t get us there too quickly. You wanted the experience, right?”

I rolled my eyes but smiled, leaning into his side as he draped an arm around my shoulders. Maybe I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but there was something comforting about being here with him, about how easy it felt to slip into this little bubble where the world didn’t exist for a while.

It was new—this whole “official couple” thing—but moments like this made it feel like it had always been.

Leadenhall Market was straight out of a storybook. The arched glass ceiling, the twinkling lights strung across shopfronts, and the faint scent of mulled wine in the air made it feel like Christmas had been bottled and poured out onto the cobblestones. It was a world away from the glossy, commercial buzz of a Target holiday aisle, and I had to admit—it was enchanting.

“I might give it to you” I said as we stepped into the main thoroughfare. “This is better than Target.”

Lewis grinned, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “Told you. Now, for some real decorations…”

“Okay, what’s the strategy here?” I asked, holding onto his arm as we wove through the crowd. “Do we start with ornaments or lights?”

“Lights,” he said without hesitation. “You’re going to be picky about ornaments. I can already tell.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted. “I have a vision.”

He laughed, and I felt a warm glow in my chest.  But the first stall that caught my eyes had a mix of antique ornaments and handmade crafts and I couldn’t help but stop.

Lewis crouched down to inspect a hand-painted bauble featuring Big Ben in a snowy London scene, holding it up for me to see.

“This one?” he asked.

“Cute, but I had something else in mind” I replied, scanning the table. My eyes landed on a set of ceramic stars painted in gold and white, each with a different constellation. “Now these are something else.”

He followed my gaze, his expression softening as he picked one up. “The stars, huh?”

“Don’t get all poetic on me,” I teased, nudging his arm. “I just think they’re classy.”

“Classy works” he said, adding the set to our growing pile of treasures.

By the time we left the market, my tote bag was overflowing with ornaments, candles, and a small wreath I’d insisted on for the front door. We found a cozy café tucked into one corner of the market, where Lewis ordered me something he swore was divine

“Yule log?” I asked inspecting what looked a lot like a mini jelly roll

“Just try it, it’s a lot more chocolaty than you’re giving it credit” He quipped, watching me intently as steam curl up from the tea cup in his hand.

“I could get used to this” I admitted after the first couple of bites

He leaned back in his chair, his beanie pushed up slightly as he regarded me with a contented smile. “Markets and pastries? Or me indulging your Christmas obsession?”

“Both,” I said, lifting my latte in a mock toast.

The Southbank Centre Winter Market was our next stop, and as we strolled along the Thames, the city lights reflecting off the water, I realized how much I loved this less flashy and slower side of London.

Couples and family walked hand-in-hand, vendors called out their wares, and the air smelled of roasted chestnuts.

“This is pretty nice” I murmured, leaning into Lewis’s side.

“Even without a Target?” he teased.

“Even without a Target.”

At one stall, he insisted I had to try Hot Toddy, a hot drink that tasted a lot like something my grandma made me as a kid to soothe coughing, only a lot stronger considering the Scottish whiskey used.

We wandered past stands selling everything from handmade soaps to quirky holiday jumpers. One vendor offered personalized tree ornaments, and I couldn’t resist commissioning one with both our names on it.

“It’s our first Christmas together” I explained when Lewis raised an eyebrow.

“Officially” he corrected, his tone light but meaningful.

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “You know what I meant”

Being here with him, like this, made me realize how much we’d grown into this new version of us. It wasn’t always smooth—nothing with Lewis ever was—but that’s what made it worth it. He wasn’t just letting me into his world; he was building one with me.

The day ended a lot closer to his house in Chelsea. Hyde Park Winter Wonderland was bustling, with strings of fairy lights crisscrossing the paths, and the distant hum of carnival rides mixed with the strains of Christmas carols from a nearby stage.

Lewis hesitated as we walked through the entrance, glancing around the bustling crowd.

“You okay?” I asked, noting the slight tension in his posture.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It’s just… busy. You know how it is.”

I nodded, understanding. Being out in public like this was a delicate balance for him—trying to enjoy the moment while always being aware of who might be watching.

But as we moved further into the park, the magic of the place seemed to ease his nerves. He pulled his hood up a bit higher, keeping his hand securely in mine as we navigated the crowd.

At one point, we stopped to watch a street performer of this Christmas carol. Lewis’s features were light and carefree, and I found myself watching him more than the act itself.

There was something about the way his face softened in the glow of the lights that made my chest ache in the best way.

“Caught you staring,” he said, catching my eye.

“Shut up,” I muttered, trying to hide my smile taking another a sip of my hot chocolate.

“Can’t blame you,” he teased, leaning down to murmur in my ear. “I’ve been told I’m irresistible.”

I rolled my eyes, but my reaction betrayed me as I leaned closer into his embrace

As we walked deeper into the park, I noticed it—the way Lewis’s shoulders relaxed, his hood slipping back just slightly, letting the lights catch the edges of his profile. This wasn’t a side of him I often saw in public, and I felt a quiet kind of privilege in witnessing it.

We ended the night at one of the quieter corners of the park, sharing a massive pretzel while perched on a bench overlooking the ice-skating rink. The laughter of skaters echoing around us.

“This was a good day,” I said softly, resting my head against his shoulder.

“I’ve spent so many late Novembers in hotels or on planes. Christmas always felt like something other people did. The decorations, the markets… it just didn’t stick. But with you here? It matters again.” he said, his voice low as he moved from watching the skaters to pressing a kiss to the side of my head, his arm wrapping around me. “Next year, I’ll even brave Target.”

“This might actually be better” I admitted softly.

Lewis chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Only ‘might’?”

“Don’t push it,” I warned, though I couldn’t help smiling.

He smirked, pulling me closer. “Told you. London knows how to do Christmas.”

And I couldn’t argue with that.

______________________________________________________________

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If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[pedriache]

Domestic!Pedri Head cannons ۶ৎ

I cannot contain myself. I’m actually about to tweak thinking about these. 😭 Thank you Enny for helping me come up with these smooch smooch. Sorry I got so carried away with these…

feel free to request head canons about anyone !

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, you catch talking to Nilo all the time. Pedri will walk around the house with the little black pup in his arms, pointing things out to him.

“And that’s a picture of me and your uncle Fer.. And that’s my new shoes, those you better not touch.” or he’ll scroll through his camera roll, showing pictures of many different things, mostly pictures he’d taken of you. “Look at her, isn’t she just perfect?” It’s genuinely the most adorable thing in the world.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a rough day of practice just wants to lay in between your legs while you thread your fingers through his freshly dried hair. After he adopted Nilo, every time he tries to enjoy your cuddles, the pup will jump and scratch at your legs till Pedri picks him up and lays him on his chest. A small smile takes over your lips at the sight, your boyfriend was just too adorable and so was your new addition.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, likes to cook with you. It had become a common routine for the two of you after you moved in together. Now, with a dog running around the house, you two found yourselves tripping over him often. When you do so, you both erupt into a light of laughter, spewing out apologies and kissing Nilo’s head even though he wasn’t hurt.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, after a long day at practice begs you to wait to shower until he gets home. He always insists that, “it’s saving water.” But you know he just wants an excuse to be close to you, and of course you always agree. You loved the way he peppered your shoulders with soft kisses and the way his hands felt massaging the shampoo into your scalp. Showers with Pedri were when you were your most relaxed, and he felt the same way.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, never leaves you alone. On your days off you like to make meals and snacks for each other instead of going out, knowing Pedri was on a strict diet, it helped save cost anyways. Whenever you are making something, Pedri will sneak up on you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Despite knowing what you were making, he’ll ask anyways, “What’re you making, amor?” He just loved to hear your sweet voice reply.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, always, and I mean always gives you three kisses whenever he’s about to leave or whenever he is grateful or even if he just is passing by. It’s never on the same spot, he kisses your lips, shoulders, cheek, temple, jaw, neck, anywhere. And he’ll rotate them every time. His own little way of saying, “I love you.” without actually saying it, not that he has a problem saying those three words, but he just liked the simplicity and intimacy of kissing you.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to cuddle with you whenever he can. On his days off he likes to sleep in, groaning and complaining any time you try to cut it short to do your morning duties. Once you’re done (after prying yourself from his grip), you climb back into bed, this time spooning him, intertwining your legs together. Pedri loves to feel your soft breaths against his neck, half of the time it will lull him back to sleep.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, paces around the house constantly. Being an athlete, he is used to moving around constantly, which causes him to feel antsy when he’s sitting alone for too long. After coming home from work, you often find him walking around the living room, staring at his phone. He only settles down when he spots you, pulling you in for a welcoming hug.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t care much for TV shows, but will watch anything with you as long as you’re cuddling. He tries to pretend he isn’t completely enthralled in whatever you’re watching, but his random outbursts when something stupid happens says all you need to know.

“He did WHAT?” , “Is this a joke?”

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, prefers staying in instead of going out for dates. With him constantly in the public eye, he feels uncomfortable with the invasion of privacy. When he’s having intimate moments with you, he prefers not to have to hide or mellow it down. In the safety of your home, he can kiss you anywhere he pleases without wondering how the media will react. He also just likes to have you all to himself, so being at home gives you all the privacy in the world with no interruptions.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, will do anything for you. If you’re having a bad day, he will pamper you senseless. If you are sick, he will disappear for half an hour and come back with your favorite foods or things to cheer you up. He loves to take care of you. He hates to see you hurting and would do anything to make you feel better.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, is the biggest baby when he’s sick. At first, he’ll act like it doesn’t bother him, but the second you make a concerned face, he’s suddenly so much sicker. He’ll pout and pretend he’s on his death bed till you call out of work to nurse him back to health.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, loves to do anything as long as it’s with you. You want to play board games? He’s already on the way to grab them. You want to go shopping? He’s grabbing the keys. You want to go to the movies? He’s putting on a hoodie. You want to go for a walk? He’s grabbing his sneakers. Anything you want, he will do.

⌗ Domestic Pedri who, doesn’t hesitate to clean the dishes after meal times. He’d rather take care of it right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. He’s always on top of things around the house, too. If something needs repaired, he’ll make the calls for you. Your family loves to tease him about how good of a husband he’ll be one day, and you can’t help but agree.

(DT): @halfwayhearted ^_^

[xeeljii]

CURRENTS ⋆⭒˚.⋆

PART 2: Let It Happen

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

IMPORTANT!!! You have to read PART 1 before this or it won't make sense! ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Summary: You and Joost were never lovers, never friends but something in the middle that ended up hurting more, you meet again years later and many things have changed but others stay the same. 

Word count: 14,4k

CW: 18+, f! reader, past friends with benefits, mutual pining, jealousy, yearning so much yearning, angst with a happy ending? who knows…you will have to read I guess (๑>؂•̀๑)⋆˙⟡

You had said yes to dinner, that was unexpected. Some part of him thought you would hang up or curse him out and then hung up but you didn’t and somehow that scared him worse. It meant that you were truly unbothered by this, that he was just an old fling who had no further impact on your life and that you were totally calm about this unlike him, who hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you for a single minute since the call. That was not the reality at all but he couldn’t know that. You had kept your old number, that was the first surprise actually, he had heard from an acquittance from those days that you were back who had heard it from a friend of a friend and he wasn’t sure if it was true but he wanted it to be. He had called to the number he weirdly remembered by heart and had waited with sweaty hands while it rang, when he heard your voice he felt a strange sense of warm envelop him for the first time in years. 

Joost was eager to see you and felt a nervous at the same time. He knew things ended up badly between the two of you, but the truth is that there really wasn’t any clear line of what you were, so how could there ever be a good ending?. Regardless, now you were back and he felt he could finally face you, if anything he just wanted to know you were doing alright and maybe you had even found someone you loved in the time you were apart, then maybe he could put all his pent up feelings to rest and move on, emphasis on the maybe. 

He had gotten a table at a much nicer restaurant than he thinks the two of you ever went to, in truth those days the best he would do was get take out to your tiny apartment before or right after you had sex. He wonders if he ever properly took you out on a date and the answer is no, he didn’t. He had been immature and self centered without even realizing and you were far too good for him, he didn’t understand why you even wasted your time on him when so clearly many other better candidates were holding out a candle for you and yet you chose him, always.

He arrived earlier than the meeting time, he was bad at timing in those days and he still was, but wanted, no, needed, to make a good impression so he made the effort and waited on held breath until he saw your familiar figure entering the restaurant. You hadn’t changed much and at the same time you were totally unrecognizable, more regal, elegant and beautiful than he remembered. It seemed like you had grown into every one of your features even more dazzling than before and carried yourself with so much grace it felt like you were floating. 

He was taller, maybe it was just you memory playing tricks on you, he had kept the mustache but everything else was different. His hair was longer, cut into a mullet, you remember how he had mentioned wanting one as a child, it is the same color as when you met him, which means he kept dyeing it or had dyed it recently, he was wearing chunky glasses, when you met him he would refuse to and would just walk around half blind, he was dressed differently and he was more handsome than you wanted to admit. It would be a lie to say you didn’t keep an eye on him through the years, secretly proud of his successes and uncharacteristically anxious about his failures. But he had thrown you out and there was no reason to let him know that, answering his call like a good loyal dog was humiliating enough.

“Hi.” He gets up to greet you and speaks all cheerfully, way too excited to contain it, part of him thought you would stand him up which wouldn’t be fully underserved but he is ecstatic that you are actually here.

“Hey.” You reply with a small smile escaping your lips.

He opens his arms, wants to hug you so bad, he has missed you so terribly but you just extend you hand for him to shake. His face drops a little but he composes himself quickly and shakes your hand back with a faked smiled pulled taut on his lips so you won’t see how disappointed he is, your skin is so soft and warm his memories didn’t do you justice.

“You look really beautiful.” He says, it stumbles out of his mouth, he doesn’t know if it is not the right thing to say but he means it, truthfully with the years passing his memory of you had gotten fuzzy and seeing the real you in the flesh in front of him is a lot to take in.

You smile back at him, there is the smallest blush on your cheeks, almost undetectable, back when you first met he would enjoy making you blush over everything and anything it was so easy and he loved pulling your hands away from you face when you tried to hide it.

“You look good yourself Joost.” His hand tightens a little on yours, hearing you say his name sends a wave of nostalgia over him that threatens to knock him over, maybe he wasn’t strong enough to face you but you are here all the same.

He helps you sit, pulls your chair and calls for the waiter. You order and the waiter disappears again after bringing you your drinks, you talk a bit about everything, what you have been up to, what he has been up to, you mention the place you had moved to, how your career had grown, the job you have now, he talks about the places he has been to, the cool artists he has met and the Eurovision thing, he skims right through it even though you know from the whole press and the sad expression on his face that it was a fresh wound. You feel a little sad that he will not talk about it with you, but even in the days when you shared a bed he was so cagey you couldn’t expect him to open up now out of all times, so you just let him change the subject without a fight. 

The dinner feels awkward, not entirely bad but not entirely good either, you had known each other for little under a year so you tried to make the same questions you would for an old acquaintance but it didn’t help that he had gotten more handsome and mature and kept distracting you with his shiny smile. You eat in silence for a bit unsure of what to say, you weren’t old friends but you weren’t exactly strangers either. It was far too weird to try to keep this fake diplomacy with someone who had seen you naked so many times but it was even weirded to try to pull conversation out of him when every word and every question felt like you were walking on shaky ground.

“You-your new album was good.” You say after a while starting to feel the tension is too heavy, your words tumble and crash on each other, you speak too fast, your hands are sweaty and maybe you will faint, but at this point it would be better, a nice dramatic exit to the night and then tomorrow you would change your phone number and never hear from him again.

“You listened to it?” He looks at you genuinely surprised like he didn’t expect it all all, he looks so eager to know what you thought, in the old days music talk was the only time you felt he was really honest with you and this feels so familiar a wave of nostalgia softens you.

“Yeah, I did tell you I liked your music that one time.” You smile at him before looking away avoiding his bright eyes. “And I didn’t say that just to get you in bed mind you.” He laughs.

He had always liked that about you, you had a quick mind and would be able to talk about anything and make it funny, he was happy to hear your stories. Now years later and much learning in between he had finally realized what he had truly lost and it hurt like a thorn deep in his heart. He would dream about you, not often truly, but it happened a few times through the years in a way that made him think about you when it was the last thing he wanted to do. In dreams he would see you impossibly bright, laughing at something stupid he said and by god did he say a lot of stupid things on those days, or in the shower talking about something one of your friends had done, while he just wordlessly admired the soft curves of your figure covered in drops of water, he would see you in bed sleeping with drool coming out of the corner of your mouth that he would wipe before you raised because you would get shy and flustered if you realized on your own when you woke up. He feels his heart swell in a way that it it hasn��t in years, you are sitting across from him looking so pretty under the candlelights, he remembers you younger, sitting on the tiny table at the kitchen of your apartment, stealing food from his plate and laughing at the TV, he wishes he could have kept that forever, the place that felt like home. 

“Are you seeing someone?” He asks all of a sudden, he knows he shouldn’t, he is pushing his luck too far and yet can’t stop himself.

“You don’t get to ask that.” You shake your head.

“We are catching up, right? It is a normal catching up question.” He says with an awkward laugh more trying to justify himself than anything.

You don’t know what to answer, you had obviously had other relationships in the mean time it was not like you were eternally holding hope that one day he would remember the old toy he left hanging somewhere and come back and pick you up, but now of all times you were single. Lying didn’t feel right and telling the truth didn’t either. Maybe somewhere in the middle will do.

“I have been on a few dates.” You say careful with every world, if you had been looking at him instead of avoiding his gaze perhaps you could have seen the way his shoulders dropped but you missed it.

“I see.” He replies drily, regrets the question instantly perhaps he would be better off not knowing.

“What about you?”

“No.”

You crook an eyebrow at him. “Really now Mr. International Superstar?”

He looks up at you, finds you wearing an amused face, perhaps being friends is still okay, no matter how much his heart aches for you he doesn’t want to fully lose you from his life ever again. 

“I’m not the type.” He replies shaking his head lightly, you roll your eyes at him.

“Okay.” You say tone full of sarcasm perhaps it comes out more bitter than you mean it to be, even in the past you had not been together and now you have even less of a reason to give him attitude. 

“I’m serious.” He says a little indignant. “I mean obviously I’ve been with people but I just-” He stops himself halfway through, you look at him even more curious now.

“You just what?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He goes back to dig on his plate.

I just cannot meet someone like you. Is what he leaves unsaid, you shrug and continue eating in awkward silence. He remembers all the things he left unsaid before, how he wanted to but didn’t think you would want to hear it, how he was so unsure of himself he didn’t want to fuck up, too scared of rejection he didn’t even dare try and how because of all that, he lost you and he refuses to let that happen again so he gathers as much courage as he can and says. 

“Actually, I just haven’t met someone like you.”

You choke a little on your food, you can never recall a time where he would ever be so honest and can’t figure out why he would be now, you look at him with wide eyes. Your brain works hard to make sense of what he is saying. You didn’t understand why he wanted you back then and now that he has even more options it makes even less sense, you feel stupid and small again, it makes you angry. You laugh bitterly.

“I’m serious.”

You try to hold back your anger and take a deep breath before replying. “I don’t know I- I wouldn’t know Joost, I don’t really think we ever got to know each other.” You shrug slightly and smile sadly at him.

That hurts him more deeply than you can imagine and the fact that you are right is worse. 

“I always regretted how things happened between us.” He says, sounds truthful enough but you can’t help yourself or the bitter feelings that fill your heart now.

He sounds so far off from the guy you had met, it feels like he might be an entirely different person playing a prank on you, but when you look back at him you see those same baby blue eyes that would find you in the night it sends a pang of pain to your heart.

“It is whatever.” You say, drinking from your glass trying to keep it together. You feel like an idiot right now, you shouldn’t have come, it was a bad idea.

You feel like yourself of four years ago again, and she sucked. She was not very smart and she was so stupidly in love with this guy, she had made you answer his call eager to see him again and now it was you who had to take charge of her bad decisions.

“I really am sorry.” He moves to grab your hand. You feel the back of your eyes prickling uncomfortably, maybe you weren’t so over him as you liked to pretend.

“Okay.” You say, not knowing what else to say as you pull your hand away, his touch feels like it burns. He looks truly regretful, you shouldn’t have blown off the handle like that and you know better than it, but the younger you is so eager to see him again she seems to keep popping out and makes you act unlike yourself.

You finish your meals, still talk about mundane stuff, how moving was a nightmare, he tells you he has moved a bunch, he is an expert and he should write a book about it, he is ridiculous in an endearing way, that hasn’t changed at all. You wish somewhere in your heart that he will meet someone who makes him happy, who can match his wit, who will laugh at his jokes and make sure he eats at least one proper meal a day because you suspect somehow that he still not very good at taking care of himself. You wish well for him because somewhere inside your heart he still has a place and you still feel so much tenderness for him it chokes you up a little bit.

The waiter takes the plates away, Joost pays for your meals and opens the door for you, had he ever been that gentlemanly? No, not really. Again this new version of him seems to be making you dizzy.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks as you exit the restaurant.

“Sure, yeah I would like that thanks.” You accept because if this is the last time you will see him you want to extend it a little more, be a little selfish for your younger self she deserves to stare at him for a little longer so she can finish memorizing all pretty landmarks of his pretty face.

You walk together slowly like you are both trying to prolong the inevitable goodbye as much as you can. He points you to new places that have opened and also the once that closed since you were gone, he recommends some so you can go later, secretly wishes he could be the one to take you there. He misses all the mundane with you, after you he never really got to experience that with anyone else and felt like he didn’t even want to, too scared to muddy his memories with you. The further away from home he got the more he wanted to come back and the more that feeling grew the more he realized he would never again meet someone like you.

In those days you had thought he was a little out of your league, he had though you were a little out of his. You never seemed to quiet connect perfectly like pieces of a puzzle being forced to fit together by greedy hands, now, with more life experience under your belt you wonder if that is even a real possibility and maybe you were just being unrealistic in your expectations. Now, you are looking at him with new eyes and he seems to be a really good guy, not prince charming, not straight out a romance movie but just him, just Joost and that is somehow better than any stupid fantasy. 

He keeps stealing little glances at you like he is trying to commit you to memory, like any moment now you will disappear into a cloud. And maybe he isn’t so wrong you have already done that before and you distantly think if things would have been any different if instead of running away you would have faced him head on, even if it didn’t fix anything it probably would have given you better closure than what you have right now.

He feels this weird soft sadness envelop him the longer he looks at you, your hair is different, there are almost unnoticeable scars on your hands maybe from cooking you were always a little reckless with the knives, your face has grown even more beautiful and he can’t help but feel so lonely when he realizes he missed all of that, that he could have seen you grow and change right in front of him like a little plant on the windowsill and he missed it for his own lack of courage. He sees tiny goosebumps form on your arms, remembers how you were always bad at taking a jacket with you when you went out and that one at least seems to not have changed which makes him smile, you are not a total stranger after all. 

He chucks off his blazer and rests it on your shoulders without a word, you feel his scent envelop you so suddenly that you feel you might truly pass out now. 

This image of you on one of his hoodies sitting on bed while he plays you one of his new songs pops up in his mind so clearly he feels he has turned back time and he truly wishes he could.

“I wish we had met at a different time.” He says not looking at you, he fears if he sees the rejection on your face it will be too much. 

“Yeah? I don’t think you should think like that.” You say kicking a little rock down the street to distract yourself from how overflowed with emotions this whole thing makes you feel.

“How come?” He stops on his tracks to look at you.

“Well, nothing would change, we just wouldn’t work.” You shrug like you are just stating facts it angers him a little truly.

“Well I'm different now, you are too.” He says plainly. 

“You can’t know that from a dinner.” You laugh genuinely for the first time in the night, he hasn’t heard that sound in so long he wants to record it keep it in his heart forever even if you don’t want to talk to him ever again he wants to at least keep that.

“But I can, you are more mature and smarter and more beautiful too.”

You properly snort at that last one even thought he is being honest. You shake your head and turn around to look at him.

“The bleach melted your brain.” You scrunch your nose and raise a hand up to shake the soft strands of hair between your fingers, like you are really friends, like all of this is normal.

Should he try that? If you reject him could he offer being your friend, he really does like you not just having sex with you, like you think, and he thinks you are wicked funny and far too kind, probably kinder than he deserved, specially at that time and if he has a little crush on you it would be okay as long as he kept it to himself, he could also have you in his life. Who knows maybe down the line you could be proper normal friends and perhaps that is what the universe had always envisioned for both of you but you had gone and messed with it by adding love to the mix. 

You find yourself deep into the streets of the city you once loved so much, next to a man you also loved too much for your own good but then all too late you realize you accidentally walked back to your old place, the one where you had been together countless times, you break out into laughter your body doubling over.

“What?” He asks amused looking at you, you can’t reply, this is all so stupid, it can’t be happening. “What? Tell me.” He says rubbing soft circles between your shoulder blades over his blazer to calm you down. 

You look up at him your eyes full of happy tears or perhaps sad, you can’t know. You feel so overwhelmed by everything, you have been so good at holding it in and now you just explode. You are laughing and crying at the same time, you feel like four years of forgotten feelings just bubbled to the surface and you can barely bring yourself to care.

“I don’t live here anymore.” You manage to blurt out, you are wiping away at your tears while still giggling in between so amused by the entire situation it is like it isn’t even happening to you, like this must be a dark comedy movie or something “God this is so ridiculous, this is so stupid!” You say throwing your arms up in the air and shaking your head. 

He thinks you are so beautiful in your wild laughter but he starts getting worried when he sees the tears don’t stop. 

“Hey, it is okay, we will get a cab.” He says taking a step towards you but you take a step back like you are afraid of his touch. 

“No, no.” You shake again, not really knowing what you are saying anymore.

“Hey are you okay?” He is worried now, truly scared, he goes to put a hand on your shoulder then feels you shake with a heavy sob.

“No, I am really not.” You say it in between a bitter laugh as you cover your face with your hands. “I just really wish I had never met you.” You blurt it out before you can stop it and it cuts deep right into his heart, you can see through eyes blurry with tears how Joost’s face drops and goes pale instantly, he lets go of you.

“I’ll get you a cab.” He says, his voice sounds distant, so unfamiliar now. 

The fact that he looks so sad angers you even more, he has no right to be the one hurt when he is the one who threw you away.

“Don’t you wish the same too?” You say in a harsh tone, just wanting him to confirm all your fears, that he was glad he got away from you, that his life was so much better now and he never missed you, never thought of you.

You were looking for a fight, for him to be cruel like he once had been, even though you knew it was not on his nature and he never meant it like that. He takes a deep breath and looks at you like you are asking something so stupid it isn’t even worth answering, he looks like he is about to cry too.

“No, never. I wouldn’t give up meeting you for anything.”

You feel your throat burn with a sob. You stand together in the dark streets silently waiting for the cab, it arrives he helps you in without saying a word and then you are gone. 

He watches the car drive off holding back tears when he sees you disappear around the corner, it hits him, you are gone, you are truly gone and he couldn’t fix anything, he couldn’t solve anything, like every time before he messed it up, he wasn’t enough and now there is no second chance, he already spent all his second chances years before and this was his last one and even when such a long time has passed he didn’t figure it out, didn’t figure you out for as much as he wanted to pretend like he knew you maybe he didn’t at all. 

Joost goes back home alone, showers alone and then falls into bed trying to get some sleep alone, like always. Nothing has changed because nothing could change and maybe he was the only one who hadn’t moved on, the only one who had not grown because you at least were smart enough and strong enough to cut the cord. But he was still pathetically holding onto the memories, onto every word and every touch and every night you spent together without admitting to himself it was all just that, memories and perhaps it should stay in the past, perhaps it is supposed to just be looked back on fondly instead of like him clinging like a scared child to something he doesn’t want to lose. 

The days go by in a blur, he doesn’t really want to get up from bed and he doesn’t really have a reason to, he just stays inside mindlessly watching TV and scrolling his phone, he thinks about calling you, apologizing again but he remembers your words so vividly ringing inside his head, the way your tears shone so brightly in the night, how you regretted him and he can’t bring himself to be an inconvenience in your life again, he knows somewhere in his heart that he has taken enough. Even when he realizes you accidentally left with his blazer on, he doesn’t call, he is too scared again to act so he just sits still and watches as life once again passes him by. He thinks he will get new cards and a new ID which is a pain and he should just text you at least but then if you sent his stuff back without even meeting him, then you would have truly no reason to talk again and even if it is selfish it is a line he is not willing to cut yet, he is not strong enough for that one yet. 

By the fifth day Joost runs out of all the food at home and most importantly of all the beer, the only thing that is helping him sleep. So he decides to venture out, not that he particularly wants to, but he figures some day sooner rather than later he would have to pick up the pieces and start the arduous process of moving on from you, a process he has already delayed by a few years. He leaves home right at lunch time with some spare cash he had around and goes for the supermarket to pick only the essentials, he sees all sorts of people there, old couples and young parents with their kids and it makes him feel all the lonelier, he wishes you were with him, not that the two of you ever did that sort of domestic thing together but he wishes you would have, he thinks it would have been fun, even though in truth anything that involved you would be fun. 

As he is making his way back to his place, bags in hand, his eyes linger on one of the restaurants he had recommended to you and all of a sudden there you are like a mirage, under the umbrella of one of the tiny outside tables surrounded by pink flowers with the sun generously illuminating your sweet face making you look ethereal. You take his breath away, you always do, his feet move before he can think it through he just can’t stand living like this, knowing you are out there and he can’t share in your days, bask in your laughter, drink from your beauty, it will drive him mad. As he crosses the street he can feel the vomit of words brewing at the back of his throat and all of his sentences start with “I’m sorry, please, please give me another chance, please let me prove I can be good for you.” He is not above begging he realizes. 

But before he can talk, before he can even pretend for any longer that his fantasies where you forgive him and take him back will become real, a man approaches you from the other side of the table and as soon as you feel his presence you stand up with a bright smile on your lips, the kind he wishes he could pull out of you, you go to hug the stranger pressing yourself tightly to him. Joost imagines you smell heavenly, you must feel soft, your hair is shiny and you look so pretty and his heart breaks all over again. He is angry, he is angry at this man for daring smile at you, for daring touch you, he is angry at you for using his restaurant recommendations for another guy who isn’t him, but most of all he is angry at himself, he can’t forgive himself for losing you. 

He stays in place watching from where he can’t be seen, just twisting the knife deeper on himself. You are smiling and chatting happily, the way he wished you would have talked to him, and yet it is another man who has your tender eyes glued on him, it is another man who is taking you out for lunch, and it is another man who is making you laugh, not him, never him again, no matter how much he wants it. When you reach to grab your partner’s hands he has to look away, he feels tears start falling from his eyes, he tries to furiously wipe them away but they keep coming, he is drowning in love and lost and the only one who could save him told him she didn’t want anything to do with him. He finally gathers enough strength to walk away, and go back to his empty house to wallow in self pity, all alone again. 

If he had ever paid any attention and ever had put in more care in getting to know you then he would have recognized that other man not as a stranger but as one of your closest friends and he would have realized that you were not in any sort of romantic date but just a real catch up with a friend, the kind you could never have with him because you weren’t really friends. So instead of knowing any of that he continues for more days forming more and more imaginary scenarios inside his head of you with some other guy, you going on dates and holidays together, you going to restaurants and looking pretty under the candlelight, you moving in together and then getting married and then growing old all of which he can’t be part of and it tears his heart to pieces. So he tries to drink himself to sleep trying to catch some dreamless rest that evades him. But even then he is unsuccessful because you appear on every corner of his mind, haunting his every thought and even when he is unconscious you show up laughing in his face, so cute and so out of reach. He remembers you, now more than ever, with a fresh image of what you look like, his memories become clearer, he remembers your face when you slept, every single detail and the expressions you made, he remembers the way you had looked like back when you told him you loved him and how he didn’t say anything back, Why didn’t he say anything back? Was the fear of things being real greater than his love for you? No, of course it wasn’t but at the time he was too stupid to understand that, so now four years later like an idiot he keeps wishing he could turn back time and knowing he can’t. 

That night after you had left Joost you had continued to silently cry on the ride home until at some point without even noticing you stopped, but the ache in your heart didn’t go anywhere it only became more prominent and uncomfortable with each passing day. Younger you had felt devastated she had hoped new you would be mature and smart enough to solve it, solve whatever it was you and Joost had going on. But even age and maturity couldn’t help you when you didn’t even know what you had with him to begin with. And truly this had all been a big mistake you shouldn’t have gone seen him, no matter how much your heart ached for it. You had taken a long shower and gotten in bed in complete silence, too exhausted for anything else and fallen asleep with a dull ache pounding in your heart.

The morning after you had woken up late and with a splitting headache, everything had felt so surreal but when you saw his blazer on your chair you realized it actually did happen. You cursed yourself mentally for not giving it back, for taking it home and now you would have to see him again, but you could also take the easier way out and just have it delivered and avoid the whole interaction. Yet you don’t, he had been honest with you that night, much more than in the almost whole year that you had known him before and now you felt guilty about how bad you had ended the night. You tell yourself it is best to cut things off cleanly this time, so there won’t be an infected wound like last time. So you end up looking inside his wallet for his ID and search his address up, you also find an old note you wrote him once half jokingly “VALID: For one kiss!” it reads, you had given it to him, written on the back of a grocery list, after you accidentally sat on one of his pairs of glasses and crushed them, he had just laughed it off even when you offered to pay but he had kept the piece of paper for some reason, it pains you and makes you want to cry all over again. 

You don’t show up to his house immediately, you can’t. It was one thing to know what you should do as a responsible adult and a completely different thing to actually have the strength to do it. You have to wait some days to gather strength, you keep trying to distract yourself with work and some old friends but it is useless because every time you see his blazer on your chair you think of him and how you wish that instead of coming back to an empty house you were coming back to him sitting on that same chair, smoking cigarettes like he once did in your small apartment.

However, you decide that prolonging the inevitable is only doing you more harm than good so a little over a week after the dinner you show up to his address late in the after noon, right before evening, you had to hype yourself up the whole day to go there and have this conversation, that was assuming he was there. Just your luck when you ring he answers. He opens the door slowly and almost doesn’t belive it is you.

“Hi.” you say shyly. 

He looks rough, he is pale, his hair is messy and his eyes look slightly red like he hasn’t slept, there are also deep dark circles right under his pretty blues that now seem dimmed. 

“Hey.” His voice is shaky and nervous, he holds onto the handle of the door like if he lets go he will crumble right in front of you. 

“Um, I forgot to give it back sorry.” You say raising the blazer in your hand. 

“Oh, it is okay.” He is dumbfounded, after that night he truly didn't expect to see you ever again and here you are. He is looking intently at your face like soon you will disappear, like this is just another one of his dreams he has been having all week where he sees you vanish right in front of him, but you don’t. 

“Can we talk?” You ask with worry in your face, he hates that, hates that every time he is involved you seem to be so on edge. 

“Sure, sure. Come in.” He moves from the door and lets you in, closes the door after you.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He brushes his hair out of his face, is thankful that he even managed to shower and change his clothes, at least today after a week of self pity. 

“Just water thanks.” You say, he walks you to the living room, tells you to sit that he will be back in a second.

You do so, still holding onto the blazer tightly like a lifeline, you look around his place, it is much bigger than what he had in those days, a little less messy but still very much a bachelor house, it makes you a little happy even though you have no right to feel so, he is not yours and he never was, you have to keep reminding yourself. You are only here for closure, only that. 

“Here.” He says sitting on the armchair next to the couch like he wants to give you space and not suffocate you.

“Thanks.” You mumble taking a sip. You let a long minute go by before you open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry about taking your jacket, and your wallet, I promise I didn’t rack up thousands of euros on credit card debt.” You say with the smallest hint of a smile.

That gets a laugh out of him, it is the first time in days he feels anything that isn’t dread and of course the only responsible could be you.

He smiles softly but there is a hint of sadness under it. The air feels heavy with tension and you just want to lighten it up, he looks so sad you want to ask what is wrong but the question dies in your throat not knowing how much you are allowed to overstep. You don’t know what to say but you wish you could sooth him of whatever his worries are, if you were his girlfriend you could comfort him about whatever is bothering him, even if you were only his friends you could offer a helping hand, a kind shoulder to lean on, but since you are nothing you just keep your hands to yourself. 

“That is fine. I wouldn’t mind.” He says, it is a little stupid but he truly wouldn’t, if this was one of those problems you could just throw money at to solve he wouldn’t mind spending millions to get another chance with you. 

“Ah! I forgot you had superstar money, then maybe I should have bought myself a car.” You smile mischievously at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, he knows you wouldn’t but he finds you amusing nonetheless. “You could do whatever you wanted.” 

For some reason it feels like he is not just talking about spending his money and you feel a little shy all of a sudden. You want to fill in the silence before it drowns you. 

“I’m actually sorry for the inconvenience. Did you not need your cards?” You ask, leaving the blazer to the side. 

“No.” He pauses for a moment, thinks his next words carefully. “I just haven’t been going out, I was busy.” Busy thinking about you, busy dreaming about you, busy pining after you, all so I could see you laughing at other asshole’s shitty jokes that aren’t mine. He doesn’t say that, he knows better than to say it but the uneasiness with which you look at him makes him all the more resentful about what he saw that day. 

“I see.” You say, sensing a shift in tone. You fiddle with your fingers as you look around, there are a couple of pictures of him with friends it makes you smile, knowing he has people looking after him, people you recognize, at least some things remain unchanged, at least he is not alone. 

You are distracted seemingly by the walls or not wanting to meet his eyes, whichever it is doesn’t matter because you look so pretty in this light, in any light and you are biting your lip like you always did when you were nervous, it is so reminiscent of old days it envelops him in nostalgia, but you look so different now and at the same time you look like you could belong here, like you could really be his as he is already yours. Like you could wake up in his bed, your bed, and have breakfast together and then say good bye to come back home to dinner with you and shower together and fall asleep in each other’s arms and then wake up and do it all over again, because you can.

And he distantly wishes he was a different man, the kind that could actually have those things with, the kind you could actually introduce to your friends and the kind you would be so happy to see like the guy at the cafe. He furrows his eyebrows, he doesn't want to think about that but the doubt itches in his mouth and he sort of wants you to confirm all his worst fears, that yes that other guy is the love of your life, that you couldn’t be happier, that he is so much better than Joost, that Joost has always been way beneath you and that you will soon get married and have the life you have always wanted, the kind of life he could never give you. He wants to be put out of his misery and stop holding any hope that you will want him ever again so he doesn’t stop himself before speaking and breaking the uncomfortable silence no matter how much it makes him feel like he is walking to his own execution. 

“I saw you at the new restaurant the one near the supermarket the other day” He takes a small pause until he sees you make eye contact then continues. “With your boyfriend.” The word comes out bitterly from his mouth making him uncomfortable with every syllable. 

You look at him a little puzzled, have to make an effort to remember what he is talking about, then when you come up with the answer you break in laughter throwing your head back at his misunderstanding. 

He is even more confused, he is hurt now, it is one thing for you to have a boyfriend and it is another to rub it in his face and laugh at him for still being so stupidly in love with you, he feels so dumb and inadequate but then you finally stop giggling and look at him from under long eyelashes with a warm smile while shaking your head and he forgets why he was even angry in the first place. 

“That is my friend, we were classmates in university.” You explain still between fits of laughter. 

“Oh,” Is all that he manages out. 

“Oh?” You repeat raising your eyebrows and looking at him amused, you scoot closer in the couch to get a better look at his face, he is blushing so prettily. 

“Were you jealous Joost?” You crook your head to the side playfully, still so amused at how mortified he looks, he doesn't even want to meet your eyes. 

“Tell me~” You say in a sing song voice as you go even closer to him.

He wants to melt into the floor and avoid this, he feels so childish in his fit of jealousy now and all the sleepless night he spent having nightmare about your wedding day to some guy that isn’t even your boyfriend. He finally takes a deep breath, still feels his skin burning hot with embarrassment but he makes the effort to look at you. 

“Yes I was.” He admits, he doesn’t know why exactly he is so eager to admit it, it is not like he has the right to be jealous, but you had said “Tell me.” and how could he ever deny you anything? He covers his face with a hand faking a cough so you won’t see how deeply red he has turned, but you do notice and you are still smiling at him. He likes this, he likes you, he likes having you close like this, even when you are laughing at him, he could be your jester he thinks distantly, he would be okay living like that as long as he could stay by your side. 

You pull back further away and relax into the couch, he wishes you would have stayed closer, he swears he could smell your perfume or maybe it was just wishful thinking. You both just sit in silence for a while not saying anything but finally the silence doesn’t feel daunting it just feels good, like there is finally some peace. You wish you could stay like this longer but any more indulging in these scenarios of the past and what ifs and you won’t want to leave his side, so you take a deep breath before trying to say anything. You turn your face to look at him and find him already watching you, it make you blush lightly but you still speak up. 

“Joost I’m really sorry about that night, I shouldn’t have said that.” You don’t turn your eyes away even when you want to, so overwhelmed by how penetrating his eyes feel on your face, you hold his gaze so he will know you are being sincere. 

“Oh, that is okay.” He says, his tone is nervous now, you can tell he is forcing a smile but you shake your head. 

“It was mean and unnecessary I shouldn’t have, I’m really sorry.”

He shrugs slightly, he wishes you weren’t having this conversation now, he wanted to keep playing pretend in his head of what it would be like to have you here in his living room day after day always and forever without even talking because silence is just comfortable between you two.

“If you meant it, it is all good. You were just honest.” He swallows deeply trying to sooth his nerves. 

Why was he so kind of all a sudden? Who was this man? The more time you spend with him the less you felt you knew him, it frustrated you somehow.

“I was just cruel but I didn’t think it would hurt you.” You say a little defeated.

“Why would you think that?” He asks genuinely, there is no hint of anger or sadness in his tone, just genuine curiosity like he genuinely doesn’t know.

You look up at him and shrug slightly. “I didn’t think you cared about me enough for it to hurt.”

That is his fault fully and he just has to live with it but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

He gets up, moves to sit next to you on the couch, whatever happens is okay but you have to know how he really felt, you have to know how much he really cared for you no matter how unable he had been to show you, you at least deserved it now.

“Can I be honest?” You look at him and nod, don’t trust yourself to speak right now, feel like tears might start streaming form your eyes any second.

“I really did like you, back then.” He stops for a second, wants to grab your hand but knows better.

“I actually loved you.” He says in a painful sigh. Your heart squeezes painfully. 

“When you said it, I didn’t know what to do, I was stupid and didn’t say anything, I thought you would be there as long as it took me to say it back.” He shakes his head, feels so disappointed in his younger self.

“Obviously not, I was idiotic and selfish and you deserved better than that.” He smiles bitterly knowing nothing that had happened could be changed.

You have to swallow hard to get yourself to speak. “Why did you call me?” You ask shaky voice, eyes shining with tears threatening to spill over.

“I really missed you.” He shrugs a little and smiles sadly. “I wasn’t lying there really is no one else like you.”

Your hands are trembling on your lap, you feel stuck, you can’t move, can’t speak and can barely breath you are dissolving into his living room couch, he recognizes the signs all too well from experience and grabs at your hand, holds tight while searching for your eyes.

“I’m here.” He says, his voice feels like it is coming from underwater.

“Look at me.” You force yourself to do so, you realize at some point you had started crying, he pulls your hand softly to his chest and splays your fingers on it.

“Breath with me okay?” You nod and follow as he does. 

He takes deep breathes, keeps the air inside and then exhales slowly, you focus on the feeling, try to follow the best you can, you focus on his eyes he is looking deeply at you, blue was always your favorite color or it became after him, you are not too sure.

After what feels like hours of slow breathing you finally feel your heart beating a little slower. All of a sudden you feel so tired, you still feel like you are slowly coming down to earth. You let your head fall on his chest, hear his heart calm and slow, he feels like a rock you can cling to when you feel like drowning. In some more minutes you get your heart to match his.

“I really did love you Joost.” You whisper against him, now his heart picks up, you can feel it in the palm of your hand, like it is your own and in a way it always did belong to you even if you didn’t know.

“I still love you.” He says.

You raise your head from his chest, look into his eyes. 

“Can we try again?”

You don’t answer, you can't, you don’t know what to say truly so you just kiss him. It feels new and familiar at the same time, but undeniably him. 

He feels his heart stop, has thought about this scenario so many times through the years of your absence, has dreamed about it and found solace on imagining it when he felt his loneliest but the reality is all the sweeter. You are really here in front of him kissing him deeply holding at his shoulders like he will slip away but he now knows there is no better place on this earth than in your warm embrace. He reacts belatedly, he wraps his arms around your middle holding you closer, chest against chest you can feel each other so real that it is scary and exciting all at the same time. 

Four years of pent up feelings wash over you, you can’t get enough you chase after his lips drink from his touch. It feels so familiar and delicious like getting home after a long vacation but also so different like you are new lovers just learning each others’ bodies for the first time. You make a move to sit on his lap but stop unsure if you should but he is so sweet and he helps you brings you closer kisses at you neck, takes a deep whiff of your scent. Your perfume is not the same you used to use but underneath it is the aroma of your skin, undeniably you and it spurs him on. 

You are making out on the couch like teenagers, almost like all the times you did in your tiny apartment but this time is his place and everything that surrounds you feels so much like him in a way that makes you lightheaded, back when you first met you had only been to his place a couple of times and it seemed like you weren’t allowed to look but now you are drinking in every detail with curious eyes as he kisses on your throat. Hands are grabbing all over each other, neither of you can get enough, he feels sturdier, his arms seem bigger, the little tickling of the mustache is the same, he feels so warm you want to melt into him forever. You pull back from the heated kisses and make move to pull your shirt off but he stops you putting his hands over yours at the hem of the garment. 

“Wha-” You look so confused and almost frustrated with him, if he tells you to leave you don’t think you could live down that humiliation. 

But he is looking at you with so much lust, love and nostalgia all mixed into his deep blue eyes. 

“I want to- bed” His words are jumping all over the place, he is trying so hard, has waited so long for this, truly didn’t think it would happen again but now he has you and he wants to take his time. “Can I take you to bed?” He ask it sounds weird, barely makes sense and yet you understand him perfectly. 

“Please do.” You say kissing him again and smiling against his lips.

He lifts you up easily and quickly, he grabs at your thighs from below the curve of your ass, wants to feel you up higher but is still anxious that he will scare you off, that all of this will become too real for you and you will scurry away like running water between his fingers. But you just hold him tighter as he walks to bed, his eyes stay on yours almost entranced on your face. When you finally make it to his bedroom he lets you down softly on the bed, he is so grateful for once he remembered to make it in the morning and just his luck today he also changed the sheets. 

You are a divine sight he drinks you in, lips kissed red and face so deep with lust laying on his bed staring up at him waiting, a sight he thought he would never get to see again, he wants to burn this moment in his memory forever, he just blinks slowly at you and looks. 

“Joost, come here.” You finally say when you see him just staring at you like he is in a daze. 

He crawls on bed on top of you, slowly, still so unsure. Maybe he has craved you so much he has been hallucinating this whole thing but you grab at his arms and pull him closer to start planting little kisses on his jaw, his breath picks up, he closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of your soft lips, you grab at his face with your hands pull him closer to your lips, you kiss him deeply, he opens his mouth for you you push your tongue in slowly feeling him, just tasting him. He still smokes you can tell, if you work your brain extra hard you could guess it is still Camels. You smile to yourself, you can remember so many little things about him like he had never truly left your heart at all. 

He sucks on your tongue, he wants to eat you whole, you taste delicious, you feel delicious at some point his hands make their way to your waist and now he has you against his chest again rubbing softly at the inch of skin that your shirt ridding up allows him. He feels so hot you feel so hot, your skin is so tender and soft it is better than he remembers, he wonders if you still use the same lotion you did back then. He grabs at the hem of your shirt looks up at you for confirmation and you nod. He lifts it up drinking in every inch of skin that his eye can reach, there you are, it is still you. 

There are tan lines on you, he wonders where you went on vacation, he spent his last one in France, he went to a nice place by the beach, the kind that you would like, he wonders if you would let him take you there, just the two of you, already dreams of what you would look like wet from the ocean and glistening with the sun. 

“Your mind is elsewhere, should we reschedule?” You say teasing him with a smirk. 

And that hasn’t changed either. “If we stop I might die.” He pulls his shirt up, is already feeling so hot he might get heatstroke just from looking at you. 

“Hey! Don’t do that. I want to undress you too.” You complain soft scowl and cute little pout on your lips, he wonders if you ever realize just how charming you are to him. 

“I’ve missed you.” He says in a whisper against your lips as he cages you between his arms again. 

“Well you have me.” 

You grab at his neck pulling him down on top of you, your legs are tangled with his, his breath is deep, he is holding his weight on his forearms, doesn’t want to crush you but you want to feel him all over you, you want to take everything he has to give you. He kisses along your jaw softly reaches at your neck and starts planting a delicious trail of open mouthed kisses down your throat, bites softly at your collar bones, you pull away laughing at it but he holds you closer to him. He places kisses all over the skin on your shoulder then down to your chest and buries his head in the valley of your breasts, you giggle, he always had his fixations and this one hasn’t changed at all. His hands are playing with the band of your bra shyly swiping his fingers underneath as he continues to kiss you. 

He looks up at you resting his cheek on one of your breasts. “Can I?” He has the worst case of puppy eyes ever, it reminds you why it was so hard to say no to him. 

“I’m yours.” You smile softly at him pulling your fingers between strands of his soft hair. 

He looks so baffled. So overwhelmed with emotion he becomes that he quickly raises from where he is and crashes into your mouth pushing you into bed almost too hard.

“Lifde.” He whimpers against your lips before kissing you deeply, like he is trying to convey years of unsaid things in just one kiss. 

His hands roam softly on your back, you feel so warm. Finally he reaches for the clasp of your bra and unhooks it without separating from your mouth for a second like if he did he would drown. The garment falls down your arms, he admires your soft forms mouth agape and eyes shiny. He reaches a hand to massage at your breast, he is hypnotized by the way the fat gives under his finger tips, by the heat of your skin, the way your nipples pebble immediately at the first touch like your body recognizes him and comes back to life. 

“You are so beautiful.” His voice is deep and heavy with lust, your legs wrap around his hips and pull him closer just to share in his heat. 

He continues playing softly with your mounds, goes to kiss at the thin skin, wraps his lips around your nipples and sucks softly until he has you whining and pushing your chest against his face, his big hands holding at your middle pulling you against him just holding you impossibly closer to him like he wants to dissolve inside your ribcage listening to the beat of your heart forever. You feel him so hard under you, his length pressing right against your own core through the layers of fabric, your hips start grinding against his without even meaning to, moving on its own like your body recognizes his and has missed him so much, moving solely on instinct you don't even have to think. 

Your cunt is throbbing with desire, you feel yourself so wet, the fabric of your panties sticking uncomfortably to you. It feels so hot and you just want tot touch him directly. 

“Joost.” You mewl under him trying to get his attention but he continues licking incessantly at your nipples pinching and pulling lightly with his hands to the sensitive skin. 

Your hands are at his shoulder grabbing tightly but when you see he is not even listening you move them downwards one hand going between the two of you to palm him through his jeans. He moans around your nipple at the contact and then sucks harder trying to get as much of your flesh in his mouth as he can. You continue to stroke him lightly then stronger, faster, you feel him moaning and bucking his hips into your touch, chasing after the friction when you tighten your grip he all of a sudden stops his bucking hips and pulls away from you, leaving your nipples covered in his spit, swollen and shiny on the light of his room. 

“If you keep going I’m gonna cum in my pants.” He says truthfully looking up at you with big eyes. You laugh, he is so blunt and honest, it is still hard to get used to it but it is so terribly endearing.

“Not like it would be the first time.” You say grinning wildly. 

“Liefde.” He whines scrunching his eyebrows and letting a soft blush adorn the high of his cheekbones. “That was one time and I was drunk.” He is turning an ever deeper shade of pink right in front of your eyes, you distantly wonder if anyone else is able to make him melt like this, if anyone is able to tease all these reactions out of him and you remember his words “There really is no one else like you.” and you smile to yourself contently. 

“Take them off.” You say going for the zipper of his pants and dragging down, he lets you, he feels like he can barley breath seeing you almost naked on his bed and undressing him is a dream he thought would never come true again. 

He helps you pull the pants down and kicks them off bed along side his boxers that are sporting a big wet spot right at the tip of his erection. Then he goes to grab at the waist of your jeans and undoes the button before pulling down softly watching your beautiful legs emerge from the fabric. His hands go to your legs slowly inching upwards, massaging the soft muscle, feeling the smooth skin. You lay back down and just stare at him, he has some new tattoos, he has gained some wight, his chest hair is still there but is darker now same as the happy trail and all the beauty marks you remember and the ones you don’t as well. He has changed and he is still in there somewhere, recognizable but different and even better because this time it is real and not just pretend. 

He bends down to place kisses at your thighs almost reverent like you are a divinity that has wondered into his house. He keeps moving higher up until he is right at your core, he kisses over the fabric of your underwear then looks up at you, you nod approvingly before he moves to part your legs. He grabs at the back of your thighs and quickly pulls you closer to him. Gets in the middle and starts planting kisses all over your legs and between them, the skin is so soft there he tries to rub his face against it as covertly as he can and fails miserably because you are looking directly at him seeing how eager and needy he is just makes you hotter. 

He kisses over the lace of your underwear, his lips are plump and soft, you hated to admit it but nobody gave head like him. He truly enjoyed it, the closeness, the wet feel on his mouth the scent of your core deep in his nose in an addicting way. He kisses and licks through the fabric and your hips are pushing against his face, he goes to hold you down, he wants to take his time remembering every place, every tender touch that had you melting into his mouth. His eyes are closed and eyebrow scrunched in complete concentration. He is licking through the fabric applying sweet pressure on your clit but holding you tightly by the hips so you will let him set the pace. Little curses escape your lips as you whine into the air for him. “More Joost more.” You plead looking down at him with big wet eyes. He opens his eyes slowly, can barely make contact from his position but he wants to look at you all the same, wants to give you everything and anything you ask for.

He moves the fabric to the side and takes a deep lick into your core that has you twitching on his mouth, he spreads your folds open with his fingers and sucks your clit between his lips as you moan uncontrollably. When you both would do this in your apartment he would have to cover your mouth with one hand as he worked the other deep inside you because you were so deliciously loud all the way through, but you got complaints form the neighbors on more than one occasion that had you furiously blushing red even if to him it just filled him with pride that he could make you scream his name so loud; however now at his place you can be as loud as you want, as vocal as you can, he eats your sounds up and it pushes him forward, makes him suck at your clit harder feeling it twitch between his lips, makes him lick deeper like his jaw is not going to ache but for your pleasure any discomfort is worth it. He pushes his ring finger inside of the tender muscle of your core and feels you clamp down on him immediately, so needy and so sensitive already. He thinks it is a pity you mustn’t have had anyone to do this for you all these years when it should have been him always ready and mouth eager to please you. 

He pushes another finger into you, your hips rock hard against his hand like you are trying to get him deeper. You taste delicious, it is better than his fantasies, it is all you. His finger pump deep into you as he keeps trying to reach that spot that used to have you melting and when he finally finds it you all but scream and curse, there are tears falling from your eyes but it is all from pleasure and you look so beautiful, his eyes are glued on your face he wants to make sure he is making you feel good, making it worth your time now that you have give him this chance. He sneaks a hand upwards softly caressing your belly up to your chest and grabbing at one of your breasts and softly massaging feeling the pebbled nipple between his finger still wet form his spit and so hard begging for attention, he pinches at the sensitive skin and feels your cunt react immediately gushing on his fingers. His mouth is still connected to your sensitive bundle of nerves but you feel him moaning wildly, see how he is humping against the mattress, there is a wet spot of his pre-cum on the bedding that he doesn’t seem to care about, all but hypnotized with your pretty face and lascivious sounds. 

You take his hand, the one that is kneading at your chest, and pull it towards your mouth, you grab at his fingers and put them in your mouth letting the soft wet muscle of your tongue slide between them before you close your lips and suck greedily around them, it goes straight to his dick, he has to make a superhuman effort to not finish right then and there, he moans so deeply right against your clit you can feel your orgasm threatening to wash over you any second but you don’t want it like this, you want to feel him, now that you finally have him you want it all. 

You pull his fingers out of your mouth wet and shiny with spit and pull yourself slightly from his embrace before speaking in labored tone.

“Joost come here, kiss me.” 

He slowly pulls away from you with a slightly confused expression, he pulls his finger out of you softly but you still wince when you feel how empty you are without them. He crawls over you, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks. 

“Was it bad?” He looks genuine and a little disappointed. 

You laugh, that he could ever think that when you are all but melting on his palms and you were one shy lick away from coming in his mouth. 

“You are the best but I want to cum with you.” You explain. 

You cup his face on your hands and pull him into a deep kiss tasting yourself on his tongue it so erotic and nostalgic it makes you feel like you are in that tiny apartment so many years ago. You pull away slightly and sit up on bed, and pull your underwear down your legs.

His dick hangs heavy between his thighs, the tips is red and glistening with pre-cum you bite your lip in anticipation. Even if you liked to pretend like you didn’t, you had seen him just like this naked and ready for you on your dreams many times over the years but now you finally had him in front of you and you were so hungry for it. You take him in your palm stroke softly  at the velvety skin, feel him twitch under your touch, you bend down a little and look at him through half lidded eyes. 

“Can I?” You ask already licking your lips in anticipation, you have missed him so much he was always so vocal you want to hear his pretty sounds again, feel his warmth on your tongue and the way he fills your mouth.

 He looks at you with eyes full of adoration and caresses at your cheek with tattooed knuckles.

“I would love nothing more liefde, but if you do that I won’t last at all.” He says smiling brightly. His younger self would have probably bragged about his endurance then avoided even looking at you to not cum too fast but the man in front of you right now is so honest, he is naked but more than anything you feel he has stripped his soul bare, all for you. 

“Okay, yeah.” You nod stupidly, you don’t know what to say, he keeps dolling out loving words onto you and it is frying your brain slowly. You push your hair behind your ear to distract your hands. “How do you- how do you want me?” You ask timidly feeling shy all of a sudden like it is your first time and the way he is being so gentle and loving it might as well be. 

“Can you lay back down for me?” He asks, you nod and slowly, lay on bed again waiting for him. You don’t know what to do with your hands, you just rest them on your chest and feel how rapidly your heart is beating, you start getting shy all of a sudden. He looks so beautiful so grown, his arms are bigger, his face is more handsome, he feels like a stranger and you start getting timid that perhaps you don’t know him at all. He sees the hesitation in your eyes and asks softly as he caresses at your cheek. 

“Are you with me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod affirmatively and smile fondly. “I just- I can’t belive it is you.” 

He knows what you mean, he feels it himself. It is all so new but so old and rehearsed at the same time, he knows you, he knows it is you, and yet he also feels in awe of the person you have become while he was gone from your life. 

He nods overwhelmed with emotion to speak. You see how his eyes get shiny, you reach for his arms and feel the warm muscle beneath your palms as you pull him closer. You kiss at his cheek, at the corner of his lips, at the stray tear that escapes him. 

“You okay? We can stop if you want to.” You whisper softly massaging at the muscle of his shoulders. 

He shakes his head, sniffles softly and kisses you. “I am better than ever before” He says finally smiling ear to ear.  

“Okay.” You say smiling and laying back down. 

You spread your legs for him, he comes closer in the space between your thighs, you can feel the heat emanating from his body just a breath away. He grabs at your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist, now you are flush, your sexes barely touching it feels like kissing. His hand moves from the muscle of your thigh slowly up your belly resting on your navel, he is just feeling you, trying to memorize the feel of your body under him all over again. He looks at you and you nod at him, sometimes there is no need for words. 

He grabs his length in one hand and pumps himself a couple times before he lines himself up with you entrance. He pushes in you slowly, his bulbous tip catches on the wet warm muscle of your hole that all but flutters around him. Inch by inch he melts in your heat, his eyes stay on yours all the way to the point you have to look away to stay sane but he pulls you back with one gentle hand on your chin so he can see you, he has missed you so much, it has been so long, he has not stopped thinking about you for a single moment and he refuses to lose another minute. When he finally bottoms out he takes a deep breath and rest his forehead against yours, his skin is shinny with sweat and you must feel yours is too but you are too concentrated on the way his lips are but an inch from yours, how his breath is so warm and you are breathing it in, he becomes the air that you breath. 

Joost finally starts to move after a long minute of just feeling himself inside you, how your warm walls cling to him and pulse all around his length, he pulls away softly but not fully, his tip stays inside your heat before he pushes back in in swift motion. He had never been a selfish lover but now he seemed absolutely laser focused on your pleasure only, thrusting deeply inside you in fast hard motion then pulling out painfully slow, you keep gushing around him feeling yourself become closer to the edge by the second. He keeps his eyes trained on yours all the way. He caresses at the skin of you cheek and you chase his touch completely shameless pushing your head against his hand to feel more of him. You are moaning into each other’s mouths, drinking in each other’s sounds. 

He feels he won’t last long, he sits up slightly leaving you so lonely without his lips but you forgive him when his hand goes to the middle of your legs and he spreads your lips apart to press constant circles on your hard clit sending waves of pleasure up your spine. 

“You feel amazing schat.” He says when you clench on him at the added stimulation.

“I thought about you all the time.” He whimpers with a deep thrust.

“I can't believe I get to do this with you again I didn’t think it would happen.” He confesses as he pulls out, he can’t seem to stop his mouth.

“I’m never letting you go.” He thrust deeply into you again, your clit twitching under his thumb you feel your orgasm quickly building again all around him, walls pulsing wildly as he moves inside you. 

His words have you dizzy, his dick inside you feels divine pushing and pulling at your sensitive walls and his relentless deft fingers on your clit are threatening to send you over the edge any second, you think he must feel it the way you are throbbing on his length and gushing all over his cock. 

“I’m close Joost, don’t stop.” You whimper. 

He keeps the same rhythm that is quickly bringing you to your peak. You look so beautiful, your skin is covered in sweat, you hair is wild and tussled on his pillows, on his bed, your body splayed so beautifully on his mattress, he feels like you belong here, he wants you to belong here with him forever. He can’t stop the words from spilling from his mouth. 

“I love you.”

You cum, you gush all over him, clenching impossibly tighter on him, so much it makes his own hips stutter. Wild tears fall from your eyes as your hips move on their own trying to ride the rest of your high on him, you are breathing heavily you can only hear the pump of your blood on your own ears, you feels like you are falling back to earth rapidly. 

He still feels the beautiful spams of your release on his length as he watches stupefied how you cum and stays still while you ride your high on his dick just letting you enjoy your pleasure and catch you breath. Then he bends down to be closer to you, to kiss at your pretty lips. 

“Just a little more schat.” He promises against your ear, you nod dumbly unable to speak at all, you feel like he is taking you through a perpetual never ending orgasm that washes all over your body. 

His movements get more uncoordinated but he is still chasing his high as he holds you in tender hands, he keeps whispering soft words at you and little i-love-yous accompanying every move, you don’t really reply, you can’t, so you just kiss him back softly. He lets you, now it is you who needs time and if anything the years have made him more patient, not perfect but just better and you are worth all the wait it takes. 

He is hypnotized by the sight, by the way your bodies melt into each other the way your core keeps dripping sweet honey all over him, he knows you were made for each other, he wants you to know it too. He lets go of your thighs and goes to grab at your neck lifting your head softly from where it rests on the pillows. 

“Look” He says, his voice sounds like he is right inside your head.

He angles your head so you see where you are connected, you see his length disappear inside you and then see him again as he pulls out over and over again like waves crashing on the beach.

“Hold your legs for me.” You can’t reply, you become hypnotized by the sight as well, you wrap your hands around your knees and do as he says, he could probably talk you into anything right now. 

He leans over almost folding you in half, your muscles will be sore tomorrow but right now the stretch is so delicious you feel like you are alive for the first time in a long while all your nerves standing on fire.

“Look, we were made for each other.” He says all gone, completely lost in pleasure and the way you all but melt around him he might be right. 

You look up at him and he does the same, your eyes lock as his hips thrust deeply into you one last time as he comes deep into your walls painting everything with his thick release, he moans your name loudly, his hips stutter into yours, all uncoordinated with the last of his release, you hold onto him like he is a life vest, he almost closes his eyes from pleasure but makes the effort to keep them trained on your face all through it. 

“I love you.” He whimpers with a last thrust and you pull his face to yours to kiss him. 

He collapses onto you, his weight feels delicious if only a little suffocating, but you caress at the tired muscles of his arms, at his back, at his shoulders and neck as you slowly bring him down to earth to you again. You feel his heart beating rapidly inside his ribcage and his breaths are shallow as he tries to compose himself. You hold him through all of it and play with the hair at the nape of his neck that you have missed so much. You feel him soften inside you but you wish you could stay like this forever, eternally connected. 

Finally he gathers what little strength he has left and rolls over onto his back next to you in bed. He is still breathing heavy but he looks over at you so enamored, he brushes the hair away from your face to look at your properly as if he is doing it for the first time and you give him a smile in return. All blissed out and fucked out you truly are an angel come to life on his bed and he can’t fully belive it yet.

After a long moment just breathing slowly and looking at you he swallows deeply and pulls himself together for what he now knows he has to do. He rolls on his side so he can look at you better and you can feel he has something to say so you follow and do the same watching him expectantly. He clears his throat before speaking. 

“I really meant it, can we try again?” He asks looking deeply into your eyes. 

“I don't know.” You say honestly, seeing him was great, it would be a lie to say there weren’t butterflies in your stomach but you didn’t know what to do with that. 

“We can start from scratch.” He offers, you laugh at that. 

“Yeah how? We already know each other.” You say, he shakes his head.

“We have changed a lot.” He is right, he has become so mature you barley recognize him at all and you are also not the same it would be unfair to say so. 

“So what do we do?” You ask truthfully looking at him expectant. 

The Joost you had met would have probably shrugged and changed the topic but the one right now in front of you smiles back, pretty dimples adorning his face and says.

“I am Joost Klein, born and raised in Friesland, I am 26, I am a dancer, video editor, rapper and international super start amongst others, nice to meet you.”

He extends his hand at you waiting for you to shake it.

You think about it for a second, seeing his pretty eyes looking at you all sparkly and sweet, it takes you right back to the first time you met but now you are both so different it truly feels like it happened a life time ago. There is no point in thinking about it anymore, those people no longer exist, whatever they did is not part of today anymore and more importantly they were a little bit stupid.

So you extend your hand to shake his, the skin feels warm and still so soft. You like him, you think you do, maybe it is nostalgia, maybe in a few weeks, maybe in a few months you will realize this is not what you want and maybe that is okay, but right here right now he is looking at you full of hope and you want to share some of it, so you pull yourself closer let him wrap his arms around you and kiss him deeply. Tonight the sky is full of stars and you feel the nice warmth of his body lull you to sleep. You can dream in his embrace of a good future were you actually figure it out together and who knows maybe this time you can because this time he loves you and he actually says it. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚ A/N: Thank you so much for reading this ended up being very long! Let me know your thoughts/comments pls and sorry for any mistakes my brain is fried lol! -`♡´-

[foodfightnovelization]

More Foodfight! Material DISCOVERED

That's right, I'm back. Just like I prophesized in my last post, yet another treasure trove of Foodfight! goodness has been uncovered, and this might be one of the strangest to date...that's right, official Foodfight! Cinnamon Sleuth Cereal was sold at Albertsons back in 2007, over five years before the movie finally came out!

Okay, not really, but I had you going for a second, right? So, this IS a proposed packaging design for actual Cinnamon Sleuth cereal, but it never went into production, it never made it to stores and there was certainly never any actual cereal to be eaten. This, among several other designs and a collection of behind the scenes material, was sent in recently by a Foodfight! crewmember, who explained they were mockups created to show off possible tie-in products. I'm not sure why they chose Albertsons for these mockups but it's likely they were in talks with them at the time and wanted to show off designs including their branding. In any case, I just had the Cinnamon Sleuth box printed because I thought it'd look cool next to my collection of Foodfight! merchandise, and I wanted to see if anyone would be convinced this really existed.

I've included all the designs above in case you want to print your own- there are several more including another cereal, brownie packaging and milk cartons. Curiously, the milk cartons have Farmland Dairy logos on them, with Farmland Milk actually appearing in the finished film at several points. I'd say this confirms my theory these mockups were created to show to companies they were already actively working on deals with, but I can't say for certain that was the case.

Equally curious are these character sheets from 2002, seemingly showing off almost every model created during early production. There are so many fascinating layers to this- Sunshine is still a human instead of a catgirl, showcasing a very different model to the one seen in the initial trailer, and Maximilius Moose is still a dog named Panzer Pup, both aspects that were changed once the decision was made to change Dex to a dog. However, it may be that Dex's human design was edited out and replaced after the fact, given Dex's model here appears to be the one from the finished film (you can tell by the weird hands). In any case, it's fascinating to get a closer look at all these characters- while the majority of the models for the main cast were found recently (see my last post for more on this), there are a bunch of side characters here we've only seen brief glimpses of before, including the Pringles man and the scantily-clad Cherry Waifer. The most fascinating to me however are the Red and Yellow M&Ms- I've read through their scene in the movie's script, I've seen multiple versions of the storyboard, even rough layout animation in the workprint, and it's only now I'm FINALLY getting to see their actual character models and how they would've looked in the Foodfight! artstyle. Sure, they more or less look exactly as they did in M&M commercials that aired around the same time, but it's still amazing to actually see these characters modelled and rendered after analyzing so many different iterations of the scene as it went through development.

The crewmember in question also sent a folder containing over a hundred stills which while at first glance appear to be from the finished movie, are actually subtly different in multiple ways- usually lighting, facial expressions, or background textures like the sky or color of a hill. A lot of these are labelled "fix" which makes me speculate if after the movie was completed, the crew went back and tried to touch up the animation to make it look more appealing before release. Is there a slightly better looking version of Foodfight! somewhere out there in the world? Who knows, but really it would've been like trying to polish a turd. The movie was already ruined by then, and I don't think any number small changes would've done much to salvage it. However, that does bring me to my next interesting point...

There are also storyboards dated May 2011, depicting an alternate opening to the movie giving a much more cinematic introduction to the main characters. It's crazy to think they were still working on storyboards so late in production, but there IS actually a reason for this. I unfortunately can't upload the entire sequence due to this site's image limit, but what you might notice are a lot of characters being described as "flying over the audience", "flying into the camera" or knocking things "into the audience", with some of the boards having "(3D)" written in parenthesis next to them. It's my belief that very late into production, Kasanoff wanted the movie to be 3D, made popular by the then-recent Avatar, and this new opening sequence full of flashy 3D effects was drawn up to show off what they could do with the technology. It's not clear if any of this was ever actually animated, but imagine going to see a movie that advertises itself as 3D but only the first minute contains any 3D elements. Of course, Kasanoff requesting this is only speculation on my part, but given how the movie was ruined by the crew having to cater to his whim of directing the whole thing with motion capture (made popular by the then-recent Polar Express) it's no stretch to assume the 3D opening sequence was a similar situation.

There's a ton more that was sent to us as well, so much so that I could never hope to talk about all of it. However, it should be on archive.org at the time of writing this if it isn't already, and you can now access everything Foodfight! related through the official Foodfight! collection on there!

That's right, so much Foodfight! material has been uploaded over the past year that the Internet Archive gave it its own archive, allowing you to find everything in one convenient place (including my scans of the novelization and Deluxe Sound Storybook). It'll also be updated periodically whenever something new is found, so it'll always be the home to all things Foodfight!. Whether you're wanting to take a look at some concept art shown in ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight, read through an early draft of the script, or check out something I've talked about on my blog, it's all here at your fingertips.

I don't think there's ever really going to be an end to the depth of the Foodfight! rabbithole. I thought I was done a year ago when I finished analyzing the novelization, and look at everything that's been found since then. Every time I think I'm out, this movie pulls me back in. So...in my next post I'll FINALLY show off my collection of Foodfight! merchandise and talk about what this movie means to me, but that doesn't mean it's the end for this blog. Whenever I say I'm done with Foodfight! I end up jinxing it, so if I try to conclude things now in a few months some CD will show up with a bunch of lost footage on it, I'll get mailed concept art of a bunch of characters we've never seen before, or it'll turn out Larry Kasanoff was actually D.B. Cooper the whole time. So as long as there's something new to discuss, as long as there's a Foodfight to be fought, I'll keep updating this blog from now until forever. You better duck when they launch the cream pies!

[descendant-of-truth]

Sooo has anyone else noticed that Chaos Sonic seems to know things about Sonic that he logically shouldn't?

He constantly brings up Sonic's failures, describes him as looking "sad and pathetic" and being "tragic" when Sonic doesn't even look upset, and seems to have inherited chili dogs as his favorite food to boot.

But the Chaos Council doesn't know about Sonic's biggest failures. They don't know that he feels sad about anything, or that he likes chili dogs. Not even Nine knows these things in detail, and even if he did, we're not given any indication that he told the Council anything after giving them the initial idea for Chaos Sonic by accident.

And yet, he takes every opportunity to poke at Sonic's insecurities, even targeting his friends and blaming him for getting them hurt.

How does he know Sonic well enough to make these kinds of targeted remarks? I like that he can, it leads to a lot more interesting interactions than if he couldn't, but what's the in-universe explanation?

Well, Sonic absorbed some of the Prism's energy when it shattered, and Chaos Sonic was created mostly with the energy from the shards. While this could give them a sort of mental connection, it doesn't seem to go both ways, and I have a slightly more specific theory for how it all works.

That being: I think the Prism itself knows Sonic. Which is kind of a bold claim, I think, but hear me out.

First of all, the energy that's in Sonic's body (once tempered with Nine's tech of course) adapts his gloves and shoes to his environment in ways that'll protect him. New Yoke doesn't require anything special, but the Boscage Maze has tall trees that are difficult to climb, so it gives him retractable claws. No Place is filled with water, and Sonic can't swim, so he gets hover shoes to keep him afloat even if he falls in.

That's a suspicious amount of intent going on there, isn't it? And they appear the instant Sonic enters a new world, so he doesn't even encounter the obstacles his clothes are protecting him from before getting them. It's like the energy already knows what the world is like and what Sonic's capabilities are.

Secondly, Shadow reacts physically to the giant sparkly specter of Tails that shows up in the void, which tells me that those are all Actual Things that the Prism conjured up.

And that's. kind of weird, right? I just assumed these were symbolic of memories flashing through Sonic's head, but I guess they're also flashing through space itself, which I will admit did get a laugh out of me the first time I watched it

(They might not be "memories" exactly since we never flashback to when these lines were originally said, but they're certainly Something that came from Sonic's head so my point still stands)

Finally, when the Chaos Council uses the Prism energy to make the Giant Eggman, it specifically takes the form of the original. That didn't come from Mister Doctor's imagination - that's how Sonic remembers Eggman.

Not to mention, they keep hammering home how uniquely linked Sonic is to the Prism, so why not have it be the other way around? I'm not saying that the Paradox Prism has to have any kind of sentience for this theory to work (in fact I'd be surprised if it did), but it could be acting as a sort of container for data on Sonic, just like how Sonic is a container for its power.

And if that's the case, then it explains how Chaos Sonic knew so much; he's tapped into that very data bank from the get-go. It also complicates the question of how to restore the Prism a bit, because yeah Sonic might have to put his energy back into it, but does the Prism have to give anything back to him in return?

Regardless of the answer, I'm really looking forward to learning more about how the Paradox Prism works (and also any potential future Chaos Sonic appearances because I loved every moment he was on screen)

[amazinglyegg]

Due to not being able to find a decent reference for Danse's room, I used this video to sketch out a floor plan!!

Along with references for what all the furniture looks like:

Details and rambling below the cut!

General notes:

The only time we see his room is after Blind Betrayal. I wonder if he brought anything from his room with him, despite leaving the duffle bag near the door?

He has a ton of storage space. Like, a lot. He doesn't even have a footlocker at the end of his bed it's just an entire metal box.

Despite that, he has nowhere to sit. Not even his desk has a chair.

Also he has a rug between his bed and his big drawer! Cute!

Pet food bowl near his door with fresh bloatfly meat in it. Not only does he manually open the door for Emmett to enter and leave (no cat door), but Emmett visits often enough that he goes out of his way to give him a bowl of fresh food! Does Quinlan even feed him!?

Has a lot of random cardboard boxes filled with papers and stuff on his floor. Given that the filing cabinet is for files, I wonder if these are books or journals?

Has a plain old bed with no pillows or blankets. Like most beds, this is probably done for game reasons (like animations or clipping) instead of canon reasons. At least I HOPE he sleeps with a blanket!!

On top of his safe is three dog food cans, maybe supposed to represent cat food. Also has a can of cram on his big drawer. I wonder if he stores more food in there!

The flag is actually a smaller one, but I couldn't find the exact model on the wiki. I find it interesting that he has a pole flag instead of a regular wall one. It just looks so sad :(

Has a lot of small blue and wood boxes around his room that I didn't include in the floor plan, they're empty I'm pretty sure

I didn't realize people outside of middle school used lockers, especially SIX of them. What do you even store in lockers?? Can't be clothes since they have multiple segments, hung clothes wouldn't fit and folded clothes would probably fall out.

No real personal stuff like holotapes or journal entries. I would have expected something unique! He also has no decorations other than that one sad droopy flag, but I guess it'd be hard to hang up paintings when the walls are made of metal. Can't just hammer a nail into that!

As a note, I think items within storage containers are randomized, so I didn't bother looking at them while making this.

Desk and filing cabinet:

Whisky and vodka bottles, no shot glass in sight. He is chugging those straight from the bottle. Not as many bottles as Maxson, at least!

Also an entire carton of cigarettes and an ashtray. He canonically smokes and doesn't even bother going outside to do it, his room must reek of cigarettes.

A food tray and mug, which is... interesting? Does he often eat alone in his room?

Filing cabinet for files, probably does paperwork at this desk as well.

Drawers:

Has like, three wrenches, as well as a tool box. This must be his workshop!

A lunch pail and a nuka cola. This table is right next to his desk so it makes sense he has food and drinks here. Surprised there's no water!

Speaking of the table... it's an institute table. Probably just done for aesthetic purposes, but I found that interesting

Let me know if you have any opinions, headcanons, or things I missed!

[stillness-in-green]

Finding Fascism in My Hero Academia (1/4)

Being a 4-part project to compare the Meta-Liberation Army, the Heroes, and the meta-narrative messaging of My Hero Academia to Umberto Eco's evergreen Ur-Fascism and its 14-point list of beliefs, ideologies, and cultural hang-ups that can serve as flashpoints for fascism.

This was inspired by ongoing aggravation with the crappy rhetoric used to talk about the MLA, especially in Twitter circles. I had already been thinking about writing this piece anyway, but some ragebait brought to my Tumblr inbox together with the massive letdown of the canon ending pushed me over the edge into what eventually ballooned into several months of work and thirty thousand words about how My Hero Academia makes some expressions of fascism really easy to spot while hiding others behind a double-thick wall of double-standards.

Read some excerpts below! Or read the first part on my Patreon, no membership required.

-------

Are the MLA fascist?  How fascist exactly, and in what ways?  More to the point, are they noticeably more fascist than the broader society in which they exist—the society Heroes fight to uphold!—with its indefinite torture prisons and its laws restricting bodily autonomy and its rampant discrimination against multiple different demographics of people?

To answer those questions, first we have to define our term: what is fascism, anyway?

The trick to that question is that “fascism” is infamously squirrely and difficult to pin down to a single, all-encompassing yet concise definition.  Wikipedia has a dedicated page solely for definitions of fascism, entirely separate from the page for fascism itself.  It contains a wide sampling of definitions offered by reference books, scholars, Marxists, Fascists themselves, and a number of others.  At the bottom of the page is a subsection labeled “Fascism as an insult,” in which can be found the following quote from a writing by George Orwell in 1944:

“The word ‘Fascism’ is almost entirely meaningless.  In conversation, of course, it is used even more wildly than in print.  I have heard it applied to farmers, shopkeepers, Social Credit, corporal punishment, fox-hunting, bull-fighting, the 1922 Committee, the 1941 Committee, Kipling, Gandhi, Chaiang Kai-Shek, homosexuality, Priestly's broadcasts, Youth Hostels, astrology, women, dogs and I do not know what else...  Except for the relatively small number of Fascist sympathizers, almost any English person would accept ‘bully’ as a synonym for ‘Fascist.’  That is about as near to a definition as this much-abused word has come.”

It would be entirely possible for me to find definitions of fascism that would let me say, “No, the MLA aren’t fascist at all.”  For example, over half of the definitions on the Wikipedia page mention some variation of nationalism explicitly: ultranationalism, militaristic nationalism, revolutionary nationalism, hypernationalism, or a more expansively worded version of “subordinating the individual to the State.”  If you exclude the definitions offered by Marxist sources, who have a pretty different paradigm around fascism, that count jumps up to three-quarters!  So if we’re operating under definitions used by people who have actually put in some thought and research, the MLA can’t even pass one of the most common, basic criteria: they are in no sense of the word nationalist.

Case closed!  People on the internet need to learn what words mean, The End.

…But let’s go back to Orwell for a second.  He also said that, while the definitions can be fuzzy, people generally know what they mean when they throw the label around.  So, what do people generally mean?

I think the definition that most gets at that is a 14-point list that I’ve seen circulating around Tumblr for years, and has recently started to come up more frequently on my radar given the state of politics in the U.S.  The list is part of an essay called Ur-Fascism written by one Umberto Eco in 1995.  Eco grew up in Fascist Italy and researched fascism as an ideology extensively as an adult; his tack was to approach the roots of the ideology, identifying a number of commonalities that one could view as symptoms of or warning signs for the rise of fascism in a group—hence the essay’s alternate title of Eternal Fascism.  Not every state or government described as fascist would possess all of these traits, but even a single one being present in a group could potentially serve as a point that fascism could coalesce around.

I have seen Ur-Fascism described as uselessly vague or overly broad, but the point is that it isn’t a definition of fascism itself, but a description of the kinds of mentality or circumstances that can give rise to fascist ideology.  Given that I know for a fact Eco’s checklist does the rounds on Tumblr and thus may inform the understanding of any number of fans who are using the fascist label more colloquially than with an eye to strict accuracy, and also given that the MLA succinctly fails to meet a primary criterion for fascism proper, I want to look at them instead through the Ur-Fascism lens.

…Not just them, though!  My whole spite-fueled goal with this project is to compare the MLA to the protagonist Heroes and the status quo they defend.  In the writing process, this has stabilized into three relatively distinct considerations: both the Meta Liberation Army and Team Hero as presented within the story and, further, the meta-narrative of My Hero Academia itself.

---(...)---

Point 1:  The cult of tradition.

Looking to the thinkers of the ancient past for wisdom, believing that there can be no (worthwhile) new knowledge/advancement because the “ancients” already knew everything of worth.  Look particularly for historically discrete belief systems being falsely syncretized, the internal contradictions of the resulting fusion being ignored or massaged away in service to the desired narrative.

MLA: No.  Their whole thing is looking towards the future of quirks and people “becoming who they were meant to be.”  The only thing they’ve got going on in terms of past-worship is their veneration of Destro and his bloodline, but that feels less like believing in the supremacy of the old than it does just the supremacy of one particular martyr.  They don’t worship him out of a sense of “older = superior”; they worship him because he had a view of the future that he was prevented from carrying out, and they’ve been taught to share that view of the future.  They aren’t trying to return to an idealized past, and certainly not a syncretistic one, though they do become a syncretized organization with the League merger.  This, however, is a practical matter of current alliances, rather than the more characteristic Ur-Fascist attempt to flatten the beliefs of discrete groups in the past to better play up their supposed superior wisdom.

---(...)---

Point 2: Rejection of modernism.

Rejection of the modern way of life, particularly the shifts that came of the Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, modern history revolutions (as in France and the U.S.), frequently capitalism, etc.  The modern age is viewed as one of moral collapse leading to depravity.  In the modern U.S. for example, we see the alt-right trying to roll back the social upheavals of the civil rights era; my readers may also consider, if they’re familiar with the phenomenon, Rome Bros on Twitter.  In Japan, this has tended to manifest as veneration of the Emperor as divine and a desire to purge Japan of Western influence.

Team Hero: Human advancement at large is explicitly described as grinding to a halt during the Advent of the Extraordinary.  All technological development, all culture, now seems to rotate solely around Heroes and how best to support them.  However dire that state of affairs is, however, it’s not a result of Heroes/the current regime specifically rejecting advancement or modern schools of thought.  I will come back to this, however; it very much fits the bill for a later point.

---(...)---

Point 3: Action for action’s sake.

“Action being beautiful in itself, it must be taken before, or without, any previous reflection. Thinking is a form of emasculation.”  Reflects in a disdain for intellectuals/academics.  Like the following point, this ethic exists at least in part because the cultural syncretism of Point 1 can’t withstand critical analysis.

Meta-Narrative: See all of the Hero analysis and kick it up a notch.   The “act without thinking” mentality as a marker for Heroism is never seriously critiqued, examined, or undermined.  It’s a plague in the Shonen Jump brand, I think, that “intellectual” characters can be good guys, sure, even in the main character’s nakama, but the protagonists are classically shounen hot-heads, with that hot-headedness being portrayed over and over again as more genuine, and therefore more admirable, than cool-headed intellect, which tends to get portrayed as compensating (unsuccessfully) for a lack of strength or faith at best, and evil manipulative cunning at worst.   While Heroes as a collective may not believe in action for action’s sake in-universe, the fact that the characters who do uphold it as a value are the main characters becomes much more reflective of the meta-narrative ethos.

Indeed, it’s quite glaring to me that, while the planning for the raids is a great counterexample to “action for action’s sake” within the story, none of the kids the audience views as the main characters and promised symbols of a better and brighter future are allowed to take part in those plans.  Rather, the kids merely act as they’re directed, without reflecting on whether the orders they’re given are good orders, much less whether those orders will actually lead to the aforementioned brighter future.  The kids who were once willing to directly disobey the orders of adults have long, long vanished from the story by its end.

Read the rest here!

[ozzgin]

heya...!!!! Sweetypie 🍓🥧🧁.... It's me again, i want to make a request again...if you don't mind 😃.

Can you make a request regarding creepypasta with ticci tobby and eyelash Jack .Previous request for a creepypasta

Most certainly! Though my drafts are a mess so I’m no longer sure what the previous request refers to. ;-; Hopefully this is close to what you pictured.

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader

Featuring Ticci-Toby and Eyeless Jack and a clueless reader that caught their attention. TW: dubious consent, gore and violence

Ticci-Toby

Oh, he really can’t explain it but you’ve tied his heart into a knot. His chest is tight and it’s almost as if his lungs struggle to get enough oxygen. You seem kind and he can’t help but daydream that he’s the subject to your friendly gestures. He feels like a spoiled child, drinking up every drop of affection, tipsy with delight. If only those doll eyes of yours looked at him.

He’s hesitant to approach you because his moods are so unpredictable. He’d love to shower you in adoration and spend the rest of his life protecting you from any threats. Then comes his rage and he’s tempted to scratch your face off for smiling to anyone else but him. Why are you trying so hard for other people? No one appreciates you as much as he does, (Y/N). Is his attention not enough? Does he need to hold your gaze in by force?

Suffice to say that Ticci-Toby can be extremely jealous and possessive well before you’re even aware of his existence. Unlike Eyeless Jack, however, he is very open about his displays of love and doesn’t wait too long to introduce himself. His impulsive desires take over any consideration he’s had regarding your safety in front of his mood swings. He can worry about it when it actually happens. Now matter the anger, he’d never hurt his darling, would he? It’s the others that will have to pay.

If he’s feeling particularly hyperactive he will begin parroting his reasons for your fated romance and why you were meant to be. If anxiety equates in, the narrations turn into regurgitated, repetitive questions stemming out of insecurity. Are you really certain you haven’t gotten tired of him? Truly, without a doubt? Perhaps you were thinking of leaving him? The interrogations culminate in desperate begging for reassurance. Please let him know you’ll never, ever abandon him. Otherwise he will have to guarantee it himself one way or another.

Eyeless Jack

You happened to be the next victim on his list. The creature stood above your sleeping form in absolute silence. You barely shuffled at the sudden coldness from the edge of the scalpel coming into contact with your abdomen. The blade, however, remained still on the surface. The hollow sockets were fixated on your unconscious face, seemingly deep in consideration.

He can’t quite pinpoint a reasoning to it, but your presence has caught his interest. On the bright side, you get to keep your kidney. The only caveat is that you now have a rather dedicated admirer with a less orthodox approach to his growing crush.

Jack primarily enjoys watching you from afar and leaves only vague hints of his presence. Which, of course, depends on your definition of vague. At first you didn’t make the connection between the people wronging you in your daily life and the mysterious packages you’d receive in the mail containing frozen raw organs. You had assumed some neighbor might’ve gotten some subscription for their dog and messed up the address. As the news piled up, often involving these particular people as abruptly missing, your suspicions increased. Especially after noticing that none of your neighbors seem to have pets. And then the love notes started and you nearly threw up next to your mailbox.

Jack is fidgeting like a schoolgirl upon seeing your reaction to his confessions. Could you be that overwhelmed by his love? It wasn’t a big deal, really. He’s just doing what he’s best at. He’s just glad to ease your life by erasing the factors that upset you. You don’t have to worry about returning his favors. Humans come with two kidneys for a reason, after all. They were made for sharing.

Now that he’s gotten his answer, he can confidently approach you. He can’t wait to get his claws on you. You look stunning from a distance, too, but nothing compares to actually feeling you. Hearing your whimpers of shy protest, sensing the increased pulse tumultuously running through your veins, observing your pupils contract in mild…fear? No, most likely just excitement. His spiraling black eyes (or rather, lack of) devour your presence with anatomical curiosity. If he’s careful enough, he might even play with you a little. He’ll be extra careful with his darling.

[imshymorph]

Price is not the only one that gets to live rent free in my mind, so here, have some soft!Soap. Take this as my apology for spamming with posts to organise my blog.

Okay, so in my mind your relationship with Johnny is more of a snowball effect. You meet at a pub through friends, you’ve recently moved to Glasgow due to a better job opportunity and he’s home for leave. And would you look at that, your nice coworkers invited you to their night out, don’t worry their other friends won’t mind. 

They definitely don’t mind because soon enough you’re part of the group, hanging out with them and being invited to any and all plans. And turns out you actually really get along with Johnny, despite being the one you see the least due to his deployments. In fact, whenever he’s in town, he’s the one you spend the most time with. 

So, when he ends up coming to yours after a night at the pub and your neighbours learn both of your names by heart, it’s no surprise to anyone in the group, including you two. 

However, he’s going back on deployment in less than a week and you’re getting increasingly busy in your job, being eligible for a promotion. So you both agree, that night doesn't change anything, you’re still friends. So what if you sleep with each other when either of you needs to scratch the itch? 

Just like your relationship up until now, it evolves naturally. You both stay on that thin line surprisingly well, not really committed to each other nor more than friends, but also with no need to seek anyone else. At least that’s at the beginning. 

Because then there starts to be small gestures, small decisions that feel more deep than they have until now. Outings just the two of you that feel too close to a romantic date to be called anything else, really. Compliments and sweet gifts become regularly interchanged –he gives you flowers or chocolates when he picks you up, you give him a small plushy of a rubber duck you saw, saying it just made sense for someone that goes by Soap–. 

But of course, you say nothing, because it works too well and feels too natural to really care. And also because maybe you’re a little worried that bringing it up might pop the bubble and undo all of it. After all, you both had agreed, you’re too busy for commitment and so is he, so you’ll take this. Whatever it is. 

That is until the day Johnny was supposed to come back from deployment. 

You’re sick like a dog, a stupid virus that had gone all throughout the office and had finally caught up to you. For the first time since you joined the group, you’re not going to be at Johnny's little welcome back reunion at the pub. But before you can feel guilty about it your friends reassure you he’ll understand, after all half of them had gone through the nasty cold already and can vouch on how horrible it feels. 

Luckily enough you don’t get to dwell too much on guilt, because with your feverish and incredibly sore state you settle down on the couch inside a cocoon of blankets falling asleep before the initial credits of the movie you put on for background noise even finish. 

No wonder you feel completely disoriented when you wake up, not even half of the movie having played yet, due to your doorbell ringing. You’re not too sure if it’s real, still too groggy from both sleep and the cold, before it rings again. 

With a grunt you get up, dragging your cocoon along, even more confused when you see Johnny standing there. “Johnny…?” you mumbled, definitely feeling delirious now. It must be the fever, right? There’s no way he’s at your doorstep, his eyes worriedly taking in your sickly appearance and carrying a bag that most probably contains meds and soup. 

“Oh bonnie, ye definitely have a fever, don’t ye?” He says, his tone coming out soft and quiet, almost worried he’ll give you a headache just from his voice. The moment his hand touches your forehead before moving to cup your cheek you know he’s actually there, your eyes closing as you pretty much melt into his touch, which is surprisingly soft and gentle. 

You barely even register when he easily picks you up, closing the door behind the two of you with his foot, carrying you directly to your bedroom. And by the time you register it, you're all warm and cozy in your bed. You don’t really get the chance to complain anyway, because he’s already fussing over you. 

He helps you sit up against the headboard so he can spoon-feed you the soup he brought, make you take the meds he brought and drink enough water to make sure you stay hydrated. He leaves for barely a minute, taking the bowl to the kitchen and getting an extra blanket on the couch, and soon enough he’s back with you. 

This time he helps you lay down, getting into bed right beside you and pulling you close so you can rest against his chest. He doesn’t have to ask, immediately putting on your comfort movie as one of his hands moves to rub your back, making up random patterns as he goes.

“You should be in the pub,” you finally get to reprimand, although it doesn’t have the scolding tone you would’ve liked it to have, given you’re already half-asleep and melting against the comfort of his body's warmth and soothing touch.  

A light scoff leaves him, as if he was offended by it. “Nah bonnie, should be here taking care of ye. No fun without you, anyway.” he’s quick to correct, adjusting to pull you a bit more against him. “We’ll go when ye feel better. Now rest.”

And to be fair, you can’t really argue with that, not with the way your eyes close in their own, nor with how relaxed and loose your body feels thanks to the meds he had brought. So you just give a small nod, melting further against his chest and slowly drifting off. 

But what really confirms it, what makes you know you’re both on the same page, is what happens next. Because Johnny smiles to himself and feeling overly confident about your sleeping state, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before whispering a soft “gotta get better so i can take ye out, bonnie. Have to tell ye i love ye properly.”

You’re really thankful of how tired you are, because it takes all of your will to not sit up and go on and on about how much you love him too. Instead a small smile pulls at your lips, and you just shift that little bit closer. It’s okay, you can tell him you feel the same right after this little nap. 

[literaturewit65]

An Analysis of Dazai's Reactions to Death

Disclaimer: I haven't actually finished reading the manga yet so all information in this post is taken solely from the light novel and anime.

Spoiler alert: This post contains spoilers from 15, Storm Bringer, Dark Era and the anime of BSD

Warning: This post is about Dazai so naturally it contains mentions of su*cide and death.

This is my first analysis of BSD, so please be kind. That said, any constructive feedback is welcome. If you have any further questions about my perspective, please feel free to ask!

Then without further ado...

Bungo Stray Dogs written by Kafka Asagiri and illustrated by Sango Harukawa is a multimedia series which explores the complex nature of the human mind through its characters. One such character, Dazai Osamu, inspired by the 20th century Japanese novelist of the same name and his well-known work No Longer Human, is a character known for his eccentric behaviour and fascination with suicide. Often times his behaviour may come off as bizarre on first sight and one might think it is purely for comic relief. This essay aims to explain the reason behind his strange reaction to the sight of the murdered woman in episode five season one of the anime, or this scene.

This screenshot was taken from timestamp 6:27 of Season one episode 5 of Bungo Stray Dogs.

This will be done by exploring first Dazai’s reaction to death between the ages of 15 and 18 or during Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen and Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, second by exploring the fact that Dazai is aware that he is different to other people, and finally by exploring the way he deals with this difference and with strong emotions during the present of Bungo Stray Dogs or at the age of 22.

Dazai’s reaction to death was unusual to say the least when he was the age of 15 and it continue to be so at the age of 18. There are three main instances where the audience watches Dazai react to death at these ages. In consecutive order from Dazai’s perspective—rather than the order they were published—is first, during the seventh light novel, Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen just after the fight before Dazai and Chuuya go to meet Randou. This scene takes place from page 53 to 54 of the English version of the light novel. There are several unusual points during this scene. But first it should be made clear that the audience has no real way of knowing what kind of experiences Dazai had been exposed to in his early life which could have a bearing on why he behaves this way at this age. There are plenty of theories but at the time of writing this Asagiri had not revealed what Dazai’s early life was like. Now, back to the point at hand. First it is unusual that a boy of 15 when faced with a dying man would ask him if he would like him to ‘end your suffering with this gun,’ (p. 53) however this may be disregarded considering that Dazai although not a part of the mafia seems to have been with Mori for some time at this point. What is more strange however is what Dazai says next ‘…But you’re showing me something extremely valuable—your death—so I want to pay you back,’ (p. 53). He then proceeds to repeatedly shoot the dead body while laughing. This could be chalked back to some sort of love for seeing others in pain if it wasn’t for what Dazai said before. He states that he sees the man’s death as valuable. There is no way of knowing how often Dazai had been exposed to death before but the fact that he views it as valuable suggests that at this point perhaps he had not been desensitized to it. Viewing death as valuable though is, decidedly, an unusual perspective for a 15-year-old boy to take.

The second time Dazai experiences death is also in the same light novel when Randou passes away. Those who have read Storm Bringer will know that’s not precisely what happens but at this point there is no evidence to show that Dazai has any idea Randou isn’t really dead and so it will be treated as another experience of death. There is a marked difference in Dazai’s behaviour in this instance compared to the one highlighted above. This scene takes place in Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen on pages 118 and 119 of the English version. Whether this difference in behaviour is to be attributed to the fact that Dazai probably knew Randou to some degree or to the fact that Chuuya had earlier highlighted to him the fact that his behaviour in the earlier scene was abnormal is up to interpretation. However, while his behaviour is more normal than before it is still rather unusual. During this scene Dazai seems more aware of the sensitive nature of what is happening because he asks Randou if he has any last words and continues by saying, ‘…If you have any final wishes, we’ll see what we can do to—’ (p. 118). This shows that he is sensitive to what’s happening and that it requires a certain type of behaviour, but it is still rather unusual given that this man is dying because of Dazai’s doing and the fact that Randou was trying to kill the former and Chuuya a few moments ago. Additionally, after Randou explains about what happened between himself and Verlaine before Verlaine betrayed him Dazai goes off on a tangent about the ‘inevitable destruction’ caused by ‘a fight between two skilled spies’ (p. 118). While Asagiri may have chosen to have Dazai say this in order to make it more clear to the reader why Randou tried to absorb Arahabaki, it is still a strange thing to do at somebody’s death bed. This being said, it is clear that Dazai is a lot more respectful at Randou’s death than he was at the G.S.S. officer’s death in the scene highlighted before as Asagiri states, ‘Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss,’ (p. 119). While it is possible Dazai is simply imitating Chuuya’s behaviour here in order to seem more normal it seems more likely that Dazai knows how to react better to the death of a person he knows and this idea is reinforced by his reaction to Odasaku’s death in Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, which will be explored shortly. It is clear, however that Dazai is affected by Randou’s death in some way when the novel states ‘Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt cold, and the hearts of the two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him,’ (p. 119). This shows that Dazai is affected by death, but he seems to interpret it and deal with it in unusual ways.

The final example of when Dazai experiences death takes place three years later during the second light novel, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, when Dazai is 18 years old. At this point he has been in the mafia for three years, so he has probably experienced death quite a bit between now and when he was 15, however this is the death of the person who is probably the only one who ever understood Dazai—with the exception perhaps of Chuuya—and who cared for him in a way which was arguably like a father. This scene takes place from page 159 to 161 of the English version of the light novel. This scene is arguably the most interesting in terms of Dazai experiencing death for several reasons. One of those reasons is that while the scene deals with Dazai’s emotions, it does not deal with his reaction to Odasaku’s death but rather with his reaction to what Odasaku says, which causes a dramatic shift in his world view and which, as any reader will know, ultimately causes Dazai to leave the mafia and strive to become a better person. While the scene does start by dealing with Dazai’s reaction to Odasaku’s death the majority of the middle of the scene is spent on Dazai’s reaction to what Odasaku says to him before returning to his reaction to his death. The scene begins with Dazai rushing into the room, calling Odasaku’s name. This is pretty normal behaviour for anime and manga characters on seeing someone close to them dying. But Dazai then proceeds to say, ‘You’re such an idiot, Odasaku. The biggest idiot I know,’ (p. 160). That is arguably an unusual thing to tell your friend on his death bed, but compared to other things Dazai has done it’s not that abnormal. The scene continues with Dazai saying that Odasaku didn’t have to die. Which is standard behaviour. Then Odasaku says he wants to tell Dazai something. He proceeds with his statement about Dazai stating that he’s looking for his reason to live in the mafia and telling him that he won’t find it. The scene then proceeds to explore the idea that Dazai has finally realised how well Odasaku knows him. The rest of this scene is spent exploring this idea as well as Odasaku’s advice to Dazai. It only actually returns to Dazai’s reaction to Odasaku’s death at the end. By stating ‘Dropping to his knees by Odasaku’s side, Dazai looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. His tightly shut lips faintly trembled. The smoke from the cigarette rose straight up to the top. Nobody said a word,’ (p. 161).  The strangest thing about this scene is arguably, that Dazai doesn’t cry. It’s possible that he was holding back tears, based on this description but the fact that it is only implied and left up to the readers interpretation suggests that Asagiri didn’t want to explicitly state that Dazai was crying. In the anime version of this scene as can below there is no hint of Dazai’s eyes being shinier than they usually are when he has lights in his eyes.

This screen shot was taken from time stamp 21:33 of episode 4 of season 2 of Bungo Stray Dogs.

After that the scene zooms out so that Dazai doesn’t have a face as can be seen here.

This screen shot was taken from time stamp 21:38 of episode four of season two of the anime.

This suggests that the decision to not show if Dazai was crying was deliberate. Given how much Odasaku means to Dazai, and that he had just realised how well Odasaku understood him it seems unusual that he would not cry.

The combined evidence of these three scenes suggests that Dazai behaves rather unusually in regard to death but that he seems to process it more normally when the person is closer to him than when it’s a stranger, where his behaviour is decidedly strange. Regardless of his closeness to the person however, evidence would suggest that the way Dazai deals with death is different to other people to a greater or lesser degree.

Now, how does all this have a baring on Dazai’s behaviour many years later in episode 5 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs? It has a baring on it if one accepts the fact that Dazai is aware that his behaviour towards death is rather strange to other people. It is never explicitly stated that Dazai is aware of this, however based on his behaviour it is clear that Dazai knows he is different to other people. This is highlighted in a particular instance in the seventh light novel. This scene takes place in Dazai, Chuuya, Age Fifteen on pages 53 to 54 of the English version. In this scene Chuuya stops Dazai from repeatedly shooting the dead body of the G.S.S. soldier. The scene commences with, “‘Quit that, you idiot […]  He’s already dead,’ said Chuuya, ‘Quit shooting his corpse,’” (pp. 53-54). However, it is Dazai’s response to Chuuya’s statement which shows that he knows his reaction is unusual. Dazai responds with ‘You’re right. When you’re right, you’re right. That’s the most normal reaction to have,’ (p. 54). Then as he walks away from the body after dropping the pistol he laughs. This is the scene as it’s written, “‘Ha-ha. ‘Normal.’ Ha-ha-ha.’ Dazai’s hollow laughter filled the cluster of trees, vanishing into thin air,” (p. 54). The fact that Dazai reacts by stating that what Chuuya says is normal and the way he laughs about it shows that he knows that he is not normal. If the idea that Dazai knows he is not normal is extrapolated, then it is implied that he also knows that his behaviour towards death is abnormal. If it is taken into account that Dazai realises his behaviour, particularly around death is odd it makes sense that as an adult he would want to hide that.

All of the above scenes took place when Dazai was still a teenager. However, it seems that even as a young adult he doesn’t know how to behave around emotionally charged situations. This is shown in episode one of Bungo Stray Dogs where Atsushi and Dazai are in the warehouse waiting for the tiger to show up. During this scene Atsushi is amazed by Dazai’s confidence and he states ‘You’re really confident, I’m kind of jealous. They called me a good-for-nothing at the orphanage. And now I don’t know where I’ll sleep tonight or whether I’ll be able to earn my keep tomorrow. […] No one’d care if someone like me were to die in a ditch somewhere. Yeah, I may be better off eaten by a tiger…’ this happens at 13:30-13:57 of episode 1 of season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs. To Atsushi’s statement Dazai does not reply. He is silent for a beat with a neutral expression as shown here.

This screenshot is taken from timestamp 13:58 of episode 1 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs.

He then proceeds to state that he thinks the tiger will come soon. This is an unusual reaction given what Atsushi just said, and it would make more sense for him to comfort the boy. But he doesn’t. This is arguably because Dazai doesn’t know how to react in what would be considered a normal way in an emotional situation like this. If he doesn’t know how to react normally here it is unlikely he knows how to react normally to death. Now, it has been made clear above that he recognises his behaviour as abnormal, and it is likely that since his instinctive reaction is abnormal, he is unable to fake a normal reaction as he doesn’t know what this would be. Hence his unusual reaction in episode five season one. He reacts with such melodrama because he knows that his instinctive reaction isn’t normal, but he doesn’t know what a normal reaction would be, and he can’t just not react either thus he opts for this melodramatic reaction which, although isn’t normal still shows a rather dramatised version of sadness at the woman’s death which is perhaps more normal than what his instinctive reaction would be. And although the others at the scene who don’t know him are rather confused at his reaction it attracts less attention than if he were to react in a similar vein to his reaction to the G.S.S. officer’s death.

To conclude Dazai’s melodramatic reaction to the murdered woman in episode 5 season 1 of Bungo Stray Dogs it not just comic relief, there is a deeper meaning behind his eccentricities. He reacts this way because he is self-aware enough to know that his instinctive reaction to death is unusual and in order to not shock other people at his behaviour, he opts for the melodramatic response he gives since while still unusual it is more similar to the way a normal person might react being a rather melodramatic version of it.