#will need to clear some space before i learn something new like this

[maximura]

Do you guys ever dream of kpop albums or collabs? I wish I knew how to remix songs because my dream is to make a TXT + Symphony album, like that time Metallica did it with S&M.

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

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Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: panic attack, PPD

"Does tomorrow morning work? I'll be heading to base immediately after. Want to make sure I have enough time to say goodbye."

"Yeah, we'll see you then."

Simon goes to bed early that night.

He's good at clearing his mind and willing himself to sleep, hovering just barely there on the surface, never dipping too deep, and has done it for years. It enables his ability to rest in even some of the most uncomfortable circumstances (and that includes Johnny's snoring). It's compartmentalizing at it's finest, something he's tried to impress upon the sergeants too, over time.

Learn how to do this. It may save your life.

The pendulum swing keeps him somewhat aware, connected to a very small piece still tethered to the conscious world.

It's how he hears his phone ring at twenty hundred.

The caller ID flashes your name and he picks up immediately, sitting straight up. "Hey-"

"Hi, um..." You're crying. He flips himself out of bed, already partially dress, and manages to locate his shoes in a millisecond.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you... can you c-come- take the baby for a little while?" Your exhale whistles through the phone sharply. "P-please. I know you- you're leaving tomorrow but I-"

"It's alright, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a minute. Are you okay?"

"I- I... don't know wh-what to do." You're hyperventilating, caught in the grip of something, scared and alone. The sidewalk stretches for miles, his lungs burning as the oxygen stays trapped in his chest from the weight of his fear, and the line goes quiet, call ending as he makes it to the lobby of your building and up the stairs.

The copy of your key he never returned gets him inside, and the first thing he notices, or realizes, is Orion's screaming. He calls your name, yells it, beelining for the nursery where the baby lays on his back, hands and feet wriggling wildly in the air, tears coursing down his cheeks as he wails. "Alright, Ry, alright. C'mere, I've got you." You're not in here, not anywhere in sight, and his stomach flips.

You have to be here. He just talked to you.

But you wouldn't know how to signal him if something was really wrong, would you? He didn't prepare you. If something happened, how would you tell him?

He tucks Orion into his arms, cradles him to his chest, and bounces him gently. "Hey, you're okay, you're okay. What's all this crying about, hmm? What is it? Where's your mama?" The crying gentles, barely, and Simon holds him at a distance, quickly, checking him over. He's not overheated, he doesn't seem to be hurt, he's freshly bathed and in a clean onesie. His nappy is new and doesn't need to be changed. "Mama took good care of you, huh? You're all clean, fresh nappy, ready for bed, aren't you bub? Yeah." Simon paces in a circle, trying to settle his cries, before lowering him back into the crib. "You stay right here, little man, alright? Close your eyes. Daddy's gonna find mama and he'll be right back."

You're not in the living room, and he finds your bedroom dark when he opens the door. For a very brief moment, his panic blooms into paralyzation, before he spots the light from your bathroom.

His heart breaks when he opens the door.

You're on the floor, back against the vanity, sobbing with your palms covering your ears. You look like you haven't showered in days, and your light blue t shirt is soaked, slicked to your breasts and belly.

There's no distance between the two of you in this moment, no barriers, no time, no need for space. He kneels, and you look up, tearful eyes telling him all he needs to know. "I'm here, mama. I've got you."

You go into his arms willingly, diaphragm heaving with tiny hiccups and sobs, unable to catch your breath. Your entire body shakes, and wraps himself around you, holding you tight where you've buried your face in his chest. "I- I'm s-sorry." You're hoarse, voice cracked and broken. "He w-won't stop."

"Shhh, don't worry about that right now, just take a deep breath." You shake your head.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." You're frozen, panicked, and he smoothes his hand over your head. "You can do it, honey. Try f'me." The baby is still crying, and with the bathroom door slightly ajar, it bounces off the tile, all around you. Simon grimaces.

He's fine, he's safe. He's in his crib.

Simon shuts the door.

"Breathe with me, alright?" he maneuvers you so that you're in his arms, laying on his chest, face tipped back to his. "Just follow me," he pulls the hand that's gripping onto his forearm like rebar away and places it over his heart, "like this." You try and try to sync your breathing with his, and once you finally get there, evening out slowly, he kisses your hair. "There you go, good girl."

Simon keeps you close, happy to hold you, even if it was in these circumstances. It's so selfish, so wrong, but he can't find it in himself to let you go, waiting long past the point when you've calmed down to finally speak again. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"He... he wouldn't stop crying. For hours and I... I tried everything, but I felt like I couldn't breathe and I felt... dizzy, and when I went to feed him he didn't want me and I was crying too, but I felt so- so mad at the same time, and I didn't know what to do so I j-just put him in his crib and came in here and c-called you. I don't kn-know what I did wrong-" your breathing slips into shallow territory again, and he rubs your back.

"You didn't do anything wrong. He's okay, he's safe. He's even got a fresh nappy on. You made sure you took care of him, which is all you need to do, okay?"

"I feel awful," you whisper, drenched in shame, "he needs to eat, and I just- I abandoned him."

"No, you did the right thing and took a break. There's nothing wrong with taking a break." You sniffle, pulling the sopping shirt away from your body, shivering with discomfort. "Do you want to try again? See if it goes any better?" You give him a frightened look, unsure and nervous. "I'll be right here with you."

"Okay."

"Let's go see your mama." Orion has worked himself into a state, and it tears Simon to pieces, guilt about leaving him in here ripping through his heart.

He feels responsible. He is responsible, at the end of the day. If he had been upfront with you from the beginning, this might have never happened. He would have been here. You would have the support you need.

He was supposed to take care of you, but all he did was make it worse.

He kisses Orion gently. It helps quell the anxiety growing like a plague inside him, worry and fear about leaving you on your own for weeks, or more, chipping away at his resolve. He tells himself you'll be okay, that you did it on your own before he came along, and that you can do it again, but the admission of another dizzy spell doesn't make him feel any better in the long run.

"Don't worry, she's okay now. She loves you so much, you know that? She takes such good care of you, all the time. Even when she doesn't feel good, doesn't she?" He doesn't turn the lights on to your bedroom, and finds you on the bed, sitting up, wet shirt discarded on the floor. He doesn't rush it, doesn't push you, even though the baby cries at the top of his lungs in Simon's arms.

Finally, you hold your hands out. He helps get Orion settled, stroking his cheek over and over until he starts to instinctually seek you out, latching after a few long minutes.

Your eyes slip closed at the silence and you lean to the side, nestling into Simon's chest.

He holds you. You hold his baby.

How it was always meant to be.

He whispers above your ear, working his fingers into the knots of your neck, your shoulders. "You're doing great, mama." You hum but stay quiet, head down, fingers stroking over Ry's cheek, again and again.

"Thank you... for being here. I know things are complicated but it means a lot that you would come. I'm sorry I freaked out, about your job. I just... it's a lot to take in. I don't really know how to feel. I need some time." That's good, he thinks. Better than last week, when you asked him to leave with tears in your eyes. There's hope. He can fix this.

"You can have all the time you want sweetheart, but... I need to ask you a favor." Orion's body full relaxes, little fist clenched in the swell of your breast falling away, and you sigh.

"What is it?"

"When I'm away... I can turn my phone on every now and then, in specific places. D'you think you could send me some pictures? Or maybe I could call, when I'm able?"

"Of course."

He stays most of the night, until the sun comes up. Gets Ry back down, stands watch while you're in shower, helps you get settled in bed. There's a special place in his heart for you when you're soft and sweet and sleepy, a tiny kitten, curling up in the palm of his hand, purring. His moon. His everything.

"You be good for your mama, okay? I expect a good report when I get home. And try not to grow too much, alright little man?" He kisses his head, holding it there, walking around in the kitchen with Ry in his arms. "I love you, Orion. You and your mama. I'll be home real soon."

You turn the corner, something clenched in your hands, what, he can't tell, and you smile sadly. "I uh... I have something for you." He cocks, his head, shifting the baby to one arm, and you hold your fist out. "It's kind of dumb, honestly, but I thought you might... I don't know. I thought you might like it. I made it myself." It's a small fabric square, embroidered with a constellation, Orion's, he recognizes now, and a compass. "It's so you can always find it in the night sky. If you're in the northern hemisphere it should be south west, and if you're in the southern, it's in the north west. I didn't know like, what you could take with you but I figured this is small enough..." You look embarrassed, and all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and kiss you.

But he can't. He can only whisper your name, thick with emotion.

"It's great. I'll use it every night. Thank you." You blink, eyes wet, and then nod. He glances at his watch.

"Time to go?"

"Yeah," he hands you the baby, and picks up his duffle, the weight foreign now but still familiar. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will."

"Promise me." He's stern, pushing a little bit of lieutenant into it, and you agree again, quickly.

"I will." You follow him to the door, holding Orion up for him to kiss one last time, and then he presses his mouth to your forehead, pleased when you don't pull away. He's dragging it out, the reluctance too ripe, and finally hangs his head in defeat after the too short minutes tick away.

"I'll see you soon." He gives you one last look, memorizing your face, Orion's, as much as he can, before heading down the hall.

"Simon," you call, turning him on a dime, "be careful, okay? Make sure... make sure you come home." Home.

"I will. I promise."

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!

[pacifythots]

winbre boys + easily overestimulated reader ; not requested :[

incl. suo, sakura, nirei, umemiya, togame, + choji.

ⓘ there are some moments where you can't avoid discomfort; luckily, your lovely boyfriend is there to help. gn!reader — hurt / comfort. light cursing, descriptions / allusions to a panic attack, mention of anxiety + overestimulation, light teasing, + just hugs ; spur of the moment idea because i just left a repass in new orleans. and if you're black, you know niggas is loud and talk for hours without moving. the combination of loud ass music, 5 different convos at my table, and my "comfort person" you could call her, leaving was alot so i got very overestimulated and decided to write this :]

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HAYATO SUO

as we've all ... observed, suo is a very observant person. especially, when it deals with people close to him (typically sakura). he notices things others might not, it could be something so obscure, but he'll find a moment to make a little tease or quip about it. this little "quirk" of his doesn't just stop at his friends, it extends to you aswell.

despite his constant "habit" of lying and, or instigating, he makes a very loud point of having clear communication and no "important lies" as he says, in the relationship. hense, he quickly learned about how anxious and overestimated you can become in certain social environments.

everytime the two of you go out—especially to places where there is a large collection of people—his hand is holding onto yours firmly. he's made a point not to leave you alone if possible. he's come to realize that: (1) he could be considered your "comfort person" and (2) how quickly you get anxious when you can't see him, or anyone else familiar.

if you're in a space where you have to sit down, everytime you start tapping your leg, he puts a subtle, yet comforting hand on your thigh.

suo is quick to make sure your comfortable. like, before you leave your apartment, "do you have your headphones?"

if you have a sensory bag? bet, he's making sure you have it.

like previously said, he's very observant; as a result, he can point out the signs when you get overestimulated. that, and he's observant of the environment.

ex. if there's a small space with a lot of people near you, loud music, and a whole bunch of moving, he makes the assumption that you either are or going to be getting to that point.

if you're the type to start crying when you get overestimulated, the second he sees your eyes get glossy he's getting you out of there.

suo notices the way you seem to zone out, when you start picking at your skin or fiddling with your fingers, when you start to look around anxiously, when start to take deep breaths to calm yourself, etc.

he periodically leans whispering to you, "are you okay?"

"are you ready to go?" is a phrase that's used frequently. this time is one of the only times where you see a genuine expression of concern on his face.

if you start start panicking, like breathing hard, fingers digging into your thighs, clearly disassociating, etc. he's immediately taking you somewhere quiet. at first, he tries to ask if you want to move or if he can touch you. but if you don't respond he's yanking you from your seat and forcibly taking you somewhere calmer.

suo is person who can help by talking you out of a panic or anxiety attack. whether it be telling a story or making teasing remarks about some of your/his friends.

"did you see those socks he was wearing?" his face scrunches, "he could've picked something better. personally, i, would've never walked out of the house with clown socks."

at times he'll even make some teasing remarks about you, though they're all remarks he knows will go over well with you. nine times out of ten, its something so stupid or lame that it makes you pause and give him a look.

"shh, don't cry. your ugly crying face needs to go so i can see your regular pretty face."

"please, don't dirty your pretty face with anymore tears."

"you're gonna make me cry, onions must me getting cut."

"draaama queen~, someone's gonna pull out a camera if you keep sobbing like Laura Dern."

he's very unserious in moments he observes it'd be okay to cheer you up with that method. after he sees a hint of smile, or any moment that shows you've calmed down he softly intertwines your fingers (of course, he asks if he can touch you), then he guves a soft kiss to your cheek or temple.

he's like a dad who cheers up his kids, because he's automatically getting you yout favorite snack.

ice cream? chips? a favorite drink? "let me get it for you."

overall - 9/10, he's very attentive and observant, and carefully judges what you need in the moment. he gets a point off because of his stupid ass jokes.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HARUKA SAKURA

already 2/10.

i am so sorry, but he is no help whatsoever. he's barely touched anyone until that damn handshake with sugishita (or his constant fighting). him comforting you??? babe your screwed.

even if you tell him in advance that you get overestimulated in certain situations, when the actual problem arises he panics himself. so now there's two panicking people instead of one. that first time, you'd have to help yourself and use your own methods.

however, after that first time, he felt guilty :[, so he quickly ran to kotoha or suo to ask for advice. he genuinely feels horrible that he couldn't help you, so he desperately tries to figure out ways to help you without asking you yourself. that is, until kotoha, suo, nirei, and kiryu were like "why don't you ask?"

he—while thoroughly embarrassed—went to ask you what you need and how to help. and listened intently to you. he's not "letting you suffer like that again."

after asking both is friends and you, he's gotten better at the comfort and helping thing, that doesn't always mean the best.

the first time you didn't feel like being touched and slapped his hand away he felt like his heart break and he got angry. after that, he started asking to touch you.

sakura is god awful at words of encouragement, so he doesn't even try.

he's also, god awful at good hugs, but- he tries to get better.

something he is good at his getting you out of a situation and to a calmer and, or peaceful place. like, he's pushing though people, guiding you the a crowd and getting you comfortable instantly. no time wasted.

he's also good at listening.

he may not provide good advice or words of encouragement, but he is good at nodding along and listening to you cry (he's internally panicking) or talk about how bothered or irritated you are, if you can.

sakura is still very nervous at holding your hand, but he'll try for you, shaky hand and all.

he's also the boyfriend to suggest food when you've calmed down.

overall - 6/10, he gets bumped up a few points because he's at least trying.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ AKIHIKO NIREI

yk that gayass notepad/notebook where he has info on like ... everyone? yeah, he has one of those solely for you. he writes down everything. things he thinks he might forget and things he know he won't, yet he just does.

at the start of your relationship, after hearing about how you tend to get overwhelmed or overestimulated easily, he's jotting that down and asking a million questions on how he can help. if he freaks you out, he immediately sputters out apologizes and notes down what not to do.

of course, that isn't to say he walks on eggshells around you.

he's aware of how you don't want to be treated like a toddler but a person who has a couple of extra needs.

best believe his ass gets overestimulated too.

if you don't already have a sensory bag, he's suggesting you get one and is eagerly helping you figure out what to put in it. if your headphones break, you can have/borrow one of his five pairs of headphones. then he recommends which brand to buy next.

he's dragging you and himself out of overwhelming situations.

sometimes he tries to be tough and shit and then suo is next to him, observing the two of you, and then like- heavily encourages the two of you to leave lmao.

you and him, two peas in a fucking pod 🤞🏾

4 liferssss who share similar sensory issues. no joke, he gets you. he's immediately there to help you and quickly judges what method he could try to help you out.

trust he has some crunchy snack in his pocket to give to you that helps take your mind off of the stressful environment.

he has that sweet little smile on his face and there's clear worry in his eyes, "are you okay? s-should we leave, or?"

this boy is attentive asf to your needs. like, he gets happy from helping you. if you're willing, he gives the tightest comforting hugs. i swear he's so fucking sweet.

overall - 9.5/10. he's attentive and understanding, he gets it and he rushes to action. though, half a point is deducted because he himself can be overestimating at times.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HAJIME UMEMIYA

umemiya is another person who can be really overestimating, even when trying to help you. however, he is very in tune with your emotions. he makes sure to be able to. hence, he can easily point out when he's doing a bit too much and he tones it down.

umemiya is also a type similar to suo. he's watching you very closely in social settings where a lot of things are going on: sounds, people, etc.

he gets you out.

like, surprisingly, he's very eager to ditch sometimes. especially if its for you, he's out.

he also tells stupid ass jokes; however, they are guaranteed to make you laugh. or at least draw you out of panic and into slight confusion at whatever the hell he said.

"what? am i just that amazing as a comedian i made you speechless?"

that shit makes you roll your eyes at him so much lmfao.

umemiya is a 'i give comfort through hugs' type of person. he is very eager and very willing to give you a hug. if pressure is a way you are able to calm down, he's quickly asking if he can hug you and then gives you biggest, tightest, yet most comforting bear hug ever.

his hugs successfully calm you down. they work every single time.

if that doesn't work, he's at least trying to get you to a calm place or give you something that will help you calm down/distract you.

like, when he starts to notice your typical signs, he's locked in.

full attention on you and mind pondering on what you need. he knows that even a fresh breath of air or a glass of water can help. if you can't immediately leave or anything like that, that is the first thing he does. he grabs you some water and encourages you to drink it.

literally doing everything to help.

the lights bother you? he's covering them with his hands or a jacket. cold? jacket already around you. sleepy? you can rest your head on his shoulder. irritated? let's leave. too much noise? hears your headphones.

if you're the type to be fidgety or mess with cloths and different textures to calm you down, he lets you do it.

whether it be your fingers in his hair, your fingertips rubbing the fabric of his pants or shirt, your hands stroking his, he lets you do anything. if he or something on him can help you, go ahead.

normally, he's quite nonchalant about it. i mean, he knows what to do. this has happened before, its cool.

but the second you start crying, he starts freaking out. he takes a deep breath and kneels before you. his thumbs are quickly wiping your tears and he's speaking to you softly to get to a solution.

"come on, baby. look at me," he coos, "it's okay. i need you to communicate with me."

he's so damn soft and gentle with you. a hand is on your thigh and another on your cheek. "breathe, let's do our breathing exercises, yeah?"

he counts with you, puts your hand or ear to his chest so you can feel or hear his heartbeat. he's always calm and patient in these instances.

and when you calm there's a soft smile on his face with his eyes filled with love. "see, you did it. i told you, you could. good job, baby," he whispers, pressing kisses to the palm of your hand.

umemiya is like your knight in shining armor. he's sweeping you out of a stressful place and to somewhere comfortable. he's grabbing popcorn and skittles, blankets and slippers, and he nearly drags you to the couch so the two of you can sit comfortably and watch a couple of movies and cuddle.

overall - 10/10. the best, i don't exaggerate. you will be calm, and you will feel safe and sound with him.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ JO TOGAME

certified introvert.

trust, this man knows what it feels like to be anxious or irritated around large groups of people. he doesn't quite feel intimidated or upset when it comes to sounds, textures, lights, and stuff. but he does understand that you do and he aims to either avoid the risk of overestimulation (the bad kind), anxiety attacks, etc. or he strives to make sure he can quickly get rid of your problems.

he hates it when your in pain.

like- he'd kill himself for letting you get hurt even if it was something mundane.

he's more for silent or subtle comforting when it comes to you. sometimes he wants to make a scene, sometimes he doesn't. but he's overall a person who doesn't want you to feel embarrassment or be ashamed from him being extra as hell to comfort you.

like a secure hand on your hip, thigh, your hand in his, little kisses, anything to ground you.

he has them big ass pants with those big ass pockets, just know he's carrying necessities for you if your outfit doesn't allow it.

togame just has a face that calms you down. like his eyes, his smile, just looking at him provides a sense of comfort.

he's also a 'stand behind you in the elevator' boyfriend.

in large crowds, one hand is resting on your lower back, guiding you through the people. and if need be, his other hand is grasping yours. the way he treats you, you'd think you were pregnant with his baby or something. this man treats you like fucking royalty, ok?

he talks you through everything.

you start seeming like you're panicking, or if you actively are, he carefully guide you and sits you down, whispering or speaking softly to you.

"sweetheart? i want you to copy me. don't think about anything else, just me. focus on me," he whispers, guiding you through breathing. his hand is holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your skin.

literally the man.

togame is the type to not wait. first sign, "do we need to leave?"

normally, he works at stalls during festivals, right? he invites you to come with him to work, but if you can't he holds no grudge. fireworks or people too loud? that's cool we leave and watch them from afar.

i mean, him being the introvert he is, he doesn't mind missing out on a couple of stuff. please, he's eager to stay inside with you if possible.

tthough, choji's nagging can be annoying.

he's not so much a person to hug you with pressure to calm you, but he offers to cuddle with him. he kisses the top of your head, soothingly rubbing your back.

if someone is clearly bothering you, he quickly steps in.

togame plays no games about you.

overall - 10/10. the man (of my dreams). caring, willing to carry around your shit, doing everything he can to help, he eats. he's the man bro.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ CHOJI TOMIYAMA

0/10, why.

choji tomiyama is a pure extrovert. he comes in bright and loud like the sun. the two of you aren't quite compatible.

just like he's done to togame, he like—drags you out. he's definitely a 'lets get out of the house!' typa guy.

he's an extrovert.

hell, he probably has adhd. i wouldn't be fucking surprised. the boy is a ball of pure unaltered energy. he bounces around with the energy and enthusiam as a child. he'd be luffy if he had the damn gum-gum fruit.

he is not the best at understanding that to some people (you), he is very overestimulating. it not until you force him to sit down and talk with you does he get it through his head. you'd have to nearly punch him to get him to focus. im telling you, he's so bad at it.

but he tries.

this ultimately results in "his light dimming." like- he tones it down so much he holds himself back so he doesn't potentially hurt you. despite how he seems, he is extremely adverse to harming you in any way, shape, or form. he loves you.

this sparks another conversation of, how he doesn't need to hold himself back and that its a you problem.

you'd likely have to explain the things you do to prevent feeling too anxious and stuff, which leads to him being verh enthusiastic about helping you.

choji would of course, do the logical thing, ask if you want to leave or grab headphones, or anything to calm you. but since he learned that he should communicate and try and get to the root of the problem he won't shut up.

he's asking you sixty-dozen questions—all of which is to help you—though that doesn't mean it isn't annoying.

choji is also a person to suggest food.

if he picks up that you're stressed or feeling overwhelmed he's grabbing your wrist and dragging you to closest candy shop or bakery to get some food.

he watches you like a damn hawk when you eat too. that bright expression of curiosity on his face as he hopes you feel better.

(i cant think of anything else)

overall - 4/10. he tries. he really does, but sometimes he's not being helpful, just annoying or overwhelming you more. he himself is overestimulating so, he's not doing much. but he tries!

[sometimesanalice]

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun. 

[kettlefire]

Time forgets most (DPxDC)

I've been getting too many brain worms that I need to clear out the cramp space that is my idea vault. In doing so, I'm just posting off-handed, random things I've typed up at work. (Partly so my drafts don't just end up like my vault). Without further ado, a much too too long post

°•°•°•°

The movement of time is a much too complex thing for many to understand. The knowledge that time was not perfectly linear. The past did not simply stay in the past. The future is not simply something to look forward to. The present is not simply a fleeting moment.

Time is a complex web. Every point in time, connected to another point in time. A never-ending mess of webs and connections. Things that are to be. Things that can be. Things that are being. Things that will never see the light of day in this universe.

Despite what some may want to believe, Time has no master. Time does not yield to any singular being. That did not mean that Time didn't need a helping hand. A guiding hand to help keep the chaos of time to something just a little more... fluid.

The being came to exist well before the universe had. The being was festered, taught, and nurtured in a small pocket dimension. A small space just like an incubator.

Until the world blossomed around it. Life started to grow. Time kept moving. Living organisms found untimely deaths. Evolved, learned, and grew into the new space around it.

When the first little creature crawled out of the water, Time's keeper was let free. A bumbling little thing, breaming with life and curiosity.

Just like everything else in the world, this keeper wasn't safe from time. It still moved. Brought forth problems and adventures.

As time continued to tick. Moving in every direction, the keeper continued to age. Unlike the rest of the universe, the keeper didn't age the same as others.

Some days, he was nothing but a small boy, frolicking in a field of flowers and bees. Other days, he was a strong middle-aged man. Pulling the strings in just the right way, pushing for a timeline that felt right.

On days that have been happening much more often. He was but a crippled old man, hunched over his staff, and dropping much needed wisdom on the young lives around him.

Being the keeper of time wasn't an easy feat. Being completely out of time, experiencing things in broken order. There was only a clear start, and a jumble of things that followed.

The keeper was content with his life. Watching over the world as it grew and blossomed. He was content with his special kind of solitude.

That was until he saw the boy. In the webs of moments, the keeper's gaze had found him. A boy much too young, suddenly with powers much too great thrusted upon him.

The keeper watched the scenes play out. The tears, laughter, humiliation, triumph, and pain. He watched as the boy's family was ripped from him. Watched the twisted attempt at fixing his life, only for it to go horribly wrong.

He watched the bloodshed and chaos that erupted. The lives ripped apart and destroyed. Not a single sign of life left behind.

Then he watched as the boy, no, not a boy anymore. The keeper watched as the monster tore through the fabric of time. Ripped its way through the thin veils that divided the universes.

Universes that had never known the boy's existence were torn to shreds to. A flight driven with pain and anger.

Despite the keeper having seen the boy turn into such a monster. He could see it in the beast's eyes. The deep-seated need for a family, a life. To be loved.

Something about the boy's life, his story, spoke to the keeper. He found himself reaching out into the web of lives and moments. Finding the moment when things went the most wrong for the boy.

Just like that, the keeper had inserted himself into a life. He pulled the boy out of the cruel stream of time. Filled the boy with the knowledge he needed. Let the boy see just what could happen if he let it.

The keeper of time was soon a simple mentor. A simple deity looking out for the world. Taking on the mantel of Clockwork and finding a new purpose for his life.

A young boy's life has been flipped upside down two times now. And there were certainly more to come. This time, the boy wasn't alone. He had a guiding hand, and a communtiy behind him.

The keeper, no, Clockwork watched with a strange pride and happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. The boy was quickly surrounded by a family that helped him navigate his new powers.

Clockwork, alongside many of the other ghostly beings, watched on with pride as the young boy grew into a strong young man. Mastering powers, taking a stand, and making their home safe.

Despite the best efforts, time always beings problems.

It was one thing for Clockwork. He was the keeper of time. His life has reason to exist as long as time exists. Which will always be. His purpose was infinite.

But this boy... Danny wasn't like Clockwork. He was still partially human and terrified of losing his humanity. Danny's story had to come to an end, it's how time works.

Except, Danny wasn't in the timeline anymore. Clockwork had ensured that, pulled Danny into a separate timeline. An unaccounted for timeline.

He couldn't live here forever, not the way that Clockwork could. Danny needs a life, a family, a place, a purpose. He was still human.

It took more effort than Clockwork would have liked. He had to cash in favors from other deities that he hadn't spoken to in centuries.

It took a combined effort of everyone who cared for the little halfa. The strange boy that teeter on the line between life and death. The boy who had freed the Zone from a tyrant. Who wanted nothing more than for everyone to live a happy and filled life/afterlife.

Getting the magic and spells right was the hard part. But finding the location was easy. A beautiful planet just on the edge of the Milky Way. Unlikely to be disturbed or hurt.

The planet was undiscovered, primative even. Far enough from humans that Clockwork was certain Danny wouldn't be bothered. Only one species lived on that planet. Along the jungle like fauna, and in the water.

Cute little guys, barely bigger than two feet long and one foot tall. There was no name, no knowledge about them. Aside from Clockwork analyzing their way of life.

A simple cycle. They were born, they aged, they played, fed, mated, and then died. A simple but content life.

The aliens weren't unsettling. At least not to anyone who has seen more creatures than what Earth has to offer. It is a strange combination between frog, fish, and squid.

Scurrying around on two legs and four tentacles. A small frog-like face with eyes that seemed to take up half that space. Colors vary from blues to greens to the same sandy brown found at the bottom of the lakes.

Before long, the planet had its own protector. A young boy who once was lost and alone seemed to meld perfectly with these aliens.

Clockwork was always sure of himself. He never let anyone see otherwise. Except, Clockwork hadn't been sure. Not when he had performed the ritual.

As he molded and changed Danny's DNA until the man was a new being entirely. To anyone who didn't know the full story, the boy could easily look related to the aliens.

Gills now painted the sides of his neck, not necessary, but Clockwork felt like it had been. Webbed hands and feet to make transversing the underwater caves even easier. An ethereal, almost siren-like touch to Danny.

It worked out perfectly. Danny settled in easily. Building a routine and bound with the aliens. It hadn't been hard for the little creature to take a liking to him.

Before long, it was routine. Danny would spend most of his time on the planet, watching over his new wards. On some days, he'd portal back to the zone. Spend time with the ghosts and deities that saved his life. To check in on the new govermental system that had been put in place.

It was perfect. Simple and nice. Everyone got complacent. The longer time went on without a hiccup or a problem. The longer Danny was able to rest in his odd solitude. The more people got comfortable.

The more they forgot that time was as cruel as it was forgiving.

It had been just another day cycle. Danny was playing with the most recent litter birth. The first time he had seen the birth, he was more disgusted than anything else.

After the third time, Danny had started getting excited. He looked forward to it. Loved seeing the aliens flourish and grow. Watching them thrive and find more fun in the things Danny creates. Every new fun game or obstacle was always made with the things natural to the planet. Or debris that was caught in its gravitational pull.

Danny was playing with Plop. The little guy got his name, and he always plopped out of the water. Unlike the other aliens, this one didn't crawl out. No, he'd pull himself out of the water with his tentacles, only to plop down on the ground.

Of course, Plop had also been the first alien to approach Danny when he arrived. It's how they formed such a strong bond.

Everything had seemed perfectly fine. The day was rolling along just like it always did. That was until a small group of the more elder aliens suddenly came scurrying into their main cave.

They hadn't waited a second before diving into the water. Danny watched, confused and concerned, as each one of them grabbed one of the young. Before shooting straight into the underwater cave system.

The once bustling and living cave was suddenly eerily quiet and void of any aliens. Leaving behind only the confused Danny in the pool.

At least that's what a certain Green Lantern saw when he followed the trail of retreating aliens.

This planet had been categorized to have no signs of intelligent life. It seemed to have the option to nurture life, but there had been no signs.

When Hal Jordan got word of a seeming spike of activity from the supposedly empty planet, he had added it to his rooster.

A quick peek, just a look into what kind of life might be starting to grow there. The little aliens he had seen were adorable, sure. But they didn't seem all that evolved. Still in their evolutionary journey.

That was until Hal saw him.

Now, Hal was no stranger to running into ethereal beauty. It's what happens when someone interacts with aliens on a basic daily. That was something he was used to.

Except, all his breath seemed to be knocked out of him completely. The cave alone was stunning, a stark contrast from the almost barren surface he had first seen.

A deep, shimmering blue pool that vanished into the rocky space around it. Trees, bushes, and flowers decorate the area. It looked almost too good to be true. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Then there was the being that caught all of Hal's attention. Bright blue eyes that looked like gems, pale blue-tinged skin. Long black and white hair seemed to look almost like the night sky. A deep abyss littered with stars.

The closest thing that Hal's brain supplied was a siren. A beautiful, ethereal creature that lured men to their deaths. As beautiful as it seemed, Hal knew there could easily be danger.

Except, the creature didn't attack or threaten him.

Instead, he seemed almost shy. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, sharp deadly teeth flashing in the light with each motion.

Hal had just opened his mouth, taken a hesitant step forward. He wanted to know, and he needed to know how this happened. There wasn't supposed to be an intelligent, sophisticated life on this planet.

The moment Hal's lips parted, the creature let out a trill. A sound that seemed more scared than aggressive. Before suddenly, the beautiful creature vanished into the pool.

Hal moved before he could think, rushing to the edge of the pool. He peered into the crystal clear water, just in time to take the webbed feet of the creature vanish into a tunnel.

Now that left Hal with two options. He could either report this and wait for backup...

Or...

Or...

He could jump inside. The ring would protect him, and his lungs would be fine. Perks of being a Green Lantern.

That option seemed much more tempting to Hal. Nothing about this scream an outright threat. He felt more like a strange imposing on someone's home. A home that was meant for safety and protection of the young.

Yet, the shimmering water seemed to be calling to Hal. Something in him was trying to push him to get inside. To find the beautiful creature and learn more. Learn how this happened.

Without realizing it, Hal Jordan sealed his fate the moment he dipped a finger into the cool pool. Rippling the steady surface just slightly.

Just enough to get him wrapped up in the strange web created by time and its keeper.

[elicathebunny]

How to utilise the holidays/term breaks well for a successful academic year

Do you need to catch up on revising the things you didn't pay attention to in class or maybe you just need to put in some extra effort to up a grade? I'm going to walk you through my personal tips for revising efficiently throughout the holidays and term breaks without disrupting your freedom away from learning too much.

I. The Defining Phase

First, you need to figure out what you need to study the most. You should figure this out by knowing what subjects you need to spend a little bit more time on than others and revising what you already know well from time to time to keep the information fresh. Make sure you don't spend too much time on the topics you know very well, I know it's tempting and easier but you are not learning anything new or prioritising the subjects you do need to work on. The more you practice in the difficult areas, the more easier they will become too.

II. The Planning Phase

Now you know what you need to revise/study. You can make a schedule around your free days. Obviously don't force yourself to study or revise when you are enjoying your holidays off from education, so you need to work out days that you can dedicate to your learning.

To make things easier for yourself, gather the resources you need (physical or online) and make them easily available to you to get rid of the faf when starting to revise. If you know you may need extra help, utilise the online teachers and AI chatbots.

-> Don't cheat with them, these are helpful ways to check your answers and to understand the questions that you wouldn't have gotten with step-by-step help

Make sure to schedule days that you can rest and enjoy your break from school. Please don't overload yourself with lots of study days because you will burn out and miss out on your holiday. Instead make a doable schedule based on your lifestyle and what's going on in your week, dedicating just 20-60 mins is enough for a day to get all the information in your head.

Allow yourself to have breaks in between study sessions so you can reset your brain before continuing to learn.

for example: for every 1hr 30 mins studying, take a 15 min break for every 1hr studying, take a 10 min break for every 30 minutes studying, take a 5 min break [every 30 mins = 5 mins break]

if you do anything below or above the times I gave, then round it up to the nearest 30 minutes and calculate the break you should have.

III. Avoiding procrastination

SET YOURSELF UP FOR SUCCESS !!

Put your study equipment on your desk, organised and ready for you to begin your session. Keep all distractions you know will interrupt your studying away from your space. Put your phone away and keep it away from your desk, turn it on do not disturb until you have finished your session. Make sure your space is clean and organised, clear space = clear mind.

Play some ambient music in the background if you need something to break the silence. Preferably choose a background sound with no lyrics or a beat to distract you. The music will keep you focused if you need it.

a. how to stop relying on motivation purely.

Motivation often comes in short bursts and fades away, leaving you less determined to pursue your goals. Relying solely on motivation means you only act when you feel like it. Sometimes, we need to do things that benefit us even when we don’t feel like it. That's why motivation isn’t reliable in the long run. Instead, we need to develop discipline. Discipline helps you push through when you don’t feel like doing something, focusing on the long-term benefits rather than your current feelings. Doing something over and over again builds a habit, this will make it easier to get up and get it done without a fuss.

xoxo

E.B

[lowtaperfeyd]

hello :))) i would love a duncan idaho x reader imagine where reader is paul’s sister and duncan confesses his love for the reader before he leaves for arrakis on caladan!!! super fluff !

Shoulder to Shoulder

Duncan Idaho x AtreidesHalfSister!reader

author's note: Heyyyy!! I did take more of an angsty route, that's just how the creative juices were flowing. But, this has sizeable amounts of fluff inside.

(Not beta read: we die like feyd-rautha)

warnings: mentions of death and some angst

wc: 1,058

(Y/N) Atreides was the older half-sister to Paul. A daughter from Duke Leto’s previous political marriage. Whose mother died in childbirth. For the longest time before Paul and Lady Jessica, it was just Duke Leto Atreides and daughter, as well as heir, (Y/N). But once Paul was born, (Y/N) was pushed back and was just a thought in her father’s mind now. It’s easier to compare her to a ghost than a prominent member of the family. 

Duncan Idaho is not a man who was afraid of change. In fact he thrives for the unknown adventure that would persist when he went to Arrakis in a few weeks. But he is a man who hates leaving things undone. 

It was the day before Duncan would leave for Arrakis and (Y/N) was sitting in the study looking over some books and films about the desert wasteland, the new place where she would live. While doing this, she thought about Duncan Idaho. The swordmaster who has always been a prevalent thing in her and her brother's life. 

“Are you going to sit there and take it, Paul!” She cried out mockingly and giggled at him as he was sparring with Duncan Idaho. 

“I would be more likely to win if you didn't distract me!” Paul said, equally sarcastic. 

“No, no my lady,” Duncan responded with a laugh, “Your brother is really trying to defeat me.”

All of a sudden, (Y/N) heard a knock on the study door, shaking her out of the fond memory of her brother sparring against the swordmaster.  

“Who is it?” She said cautiously 

“It’s me.” The deep voice of Duncan echoed through the door, “May I come in, my lady?” 

“Yes, come in, Duncan.” She said as she moved her books, clearing off more of a space for Duncan to sit in the chair opposite her. 

“I know Paul said that you were trying to learn as much as possible about Arrakis,” The swordmaster said as he looked around at all her books and papers, “But I did not expect to see you buried in them. Especially at this hour. It’s almost midnight, you need to go to bed.” 

“I’m not a child anymore, Duncan,” (Y/N) said while rubbing her forehead, “I can handle staying up late.” 

“Really,” Duncan said sarcastically, “‘cause if I recall just last week I found you asleep at the breakfast table because of the same events which are going on now. Unless that was not you, my lady?” He continued with the lighthearted teasing as he went to sit in the plush armchair at the other side of the table.

“That was an accident,” (Y/N) defended, “I didn’t mean to.” 

She let out a long, tired sigh. Her shoulders sagged when she buried her face into her arms on the table. And small tears welled up in her eyes. 

Duncan immediately picked up on her sadness. He didn’t like seeing the woman he loved in distress. But, he could never tell her that. 

“Hey,” He said gently while putting on a calloused yet soft hand on her forearm, “What’s going on?” The concern in his eyes was palpable when he laid them on (Y/N). 

“It’s nothing,” she said while lifting her head from her arms, “just something my brother mentioned.” 

With his other hand, he used his thumb to gently brush away the tear that was cascading off her face. 

“It’s obviously not nothing if you’re crying about it. What did he say?” He probed carefully.

(Y/N) got out of her chair and walked over to the window. The window overlooked the cliff sides and ocean of Caladan. With the night sky shining from the stars. 

“He said that something bad would happen on Arrakis…” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Nothing bad is going to happen on Arrakis,” Duncan reassured her, “that's why they are sending me tomorrow. To scout out the place and hopefully find the Fremen.” He walked over to stand next to her by the window, shoulder to shoulder. 

“I know, Duncan,” She said, still unconvinced. “what if you died?” (Y/N) said while looking at him. 

Duncan turned his body so he could see her fully. He took his hands and gently took her face into them. His affection provided a type of safety and assurance that neither shield could do or money could buy. 

“Why would I choose to die when I know you’re on your way to see me again,” 

“Duncan-” She interrupted. 

“Nope, let me finish,” He told her, “you are the most wonderful person on this planet. And that would continue to be true on any planet you went to. I would not die on Arrakis before you got there.”   

“I know but what if-” She tried to say before Duncan kissed her passionately. 

The kiss was fiery, smooth, everything and more than (Y/N) had imagined. It encapsulated the emotions that they both felt for each other. The bond built by love they hadn't been able to share with each other before now. If any member of court saw this kiss they would be blushing several shades of red.

Duncan pulled away from the kiss to see a frazzled and dazed (Y/N) Atreides. Whose lips were slightly swollen from kissing. With his hands still on her face. 

“I love you, my lady,” The swordmaster said, “and I would not let anything bad happen to you or myself on Arrakis. Do you understand now?” 

(Y/N) looked at him in the eyes and even though it felt like a dream, she understood what he was saying. A smile took her face as she said, 

“I love you too. ” 

“Good,” He said before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, “now go to bed. I don’t want to see you with your pretty head in a grapefruit later.” He whispered playfully. 

“Okay, goodnight.” She said to him, softly. As he began to walk to the exit of the study. 

“Goodnight my lady, I’ll see you soon” 

The only person who really saw her was the swordmaster, Duncan Idaho. He was the only one who could break away the exterior of her. He did it with such care and kindness that it was impossible to not feel deep emotion for him. 

[black-lake]

astro observations 7

hey everyone, got some new observations and random astro thoughts 👽 🔭

——

🧊 The strongest aspects to the nodes in terms how obvious their effect can be, are squares then trines esp with tight orbs. They strongly activate the planet involved and the effect becomes very clear in how things unfold or manifest. e.g sun square or tine nn is more obvious to others, their personality is much more vibrant and noticeable. The conj/opp aspects are stronger but tricky to see, because they can mean something personal to the native, something karmic or unpredictable, like two people can have that aspect but have it manifest completely differently.

🧊 Saturn 11th could mean having to learn many of your life lessons through the internet or social media. Could be by observing people online and learning new things. These natives have felt alone majority of their lives and social media kept their company. May go through difficult experiences, like online bullying or feel rejected online. They eventually learn the sweet nonchalance and the importance of self love, that they don't care when people leave them or dislike them, because the ones that are meant to stay will stay. (This may apply to ppl w a stellium in the 11th, or chiron 11th).

🧊 Those who have saturn-nn aspects may have been involved with the law/governments or have fought for something that has to do with legal matters and order. Especially for or against their family. They aren't afraid to take it to court if it means regaining their rights. They tend to win cases because they have a strong sense of justice. If negatively aspected or dealt with, they may need to watch out for that, or for their need to put someone down using the law.

🧊 Venus in aries woman also like the friends before lovers dynamic, just like aqua. They prefer to be friends with guys first and can flirt with them until it evolves into a relationship. They’re also comfortable with masculine energy way more than feminine so they tend to make friends with boys a lot. Also they're not impulsive in love as they're said to be, if they choose someone it's because they found that physical chemistry, passion, youthfulness, independence, and loyalty in them, which they rarely do and they'd rather stay solo.

🧊 Thinking about how astrology signs and houses have a connection to our body, like from aries or 1st being the head, taurus or 2nd being the neck, gemini or 3rd being arms hands, cancer or 4th being the chest area, leo or 5th being the heart space, virgo or 6th being the stomach area, libra or 7th being the kidneys and lower back, scorpio or 8th being the the genitals, sagittarius or 9th being the thighs, capricorn or 10th being the knees and other bones, aquarius or 11th being the calves and ankles, and all the way down to pisces or 12th being the feet. I just find it fascinating. I know there are other body parts ruled by these signs, but I'm particularly pointing at the way it goes in order, from head to feet which is really interesting to think about, like how coincidental could that be? it makes it real.

🧊 Through learning more about astrology and how it relates to body parts, you can use that to heal and soothe your body. If you have pisces in your chart you may benefit from soaking your feet in water with salt or soap for stress relief, and grounding, being in water in general, music and rhythms could be healing too. If you have capricorn you may like to run a lot, exercise a better posture, chiropractic treatment, spend money on skincare and your dental care. If you have Leo placements, take care of your generous heart, your hair, go outside and get you vitamin d, massage your shoulders and upper back. I can do a whole post about that.

🧊 Speaking of that — I think there is so much more undiscovered in astrology. Way more info that is waiting to be discovered. We haven't been discovering much lately. I mean uranus was discovered in the 700s, neptune 800s, pluto 900s, and these were the official discoveries. The more we discover planets, galaxies or other yet to name objects, the more we discover things about our lives, and how everything in the universe is connected and affects our experience on earth. I just wanna reincarnate 700 years later and see to what extent things evolved, or maybe that's a short period. 

🧊 What if aliens are studying earth as an outer planet which may mean something particular to them just like we study say Jupiter and Saturn as planets with certain themes. Who knows what’s going on up there. But yeah this page is getting weirder by the day... I- sry 👀

🧊 I’m one of those that would skip the big three and jump right at north node aspects fr (all including minor aspects). I want to know a person’s life journey and potential before their personality traits. It can tell a lot about destiny, what comes naturally to us and where we need growth and even about our past lives. 

🧊 Consider meghan stallion whose chart I recently saw. The moment I saw it, I thought it couldn't be more fitting and clear. With mercury square nn, she had a urge to use her voice early on, her mercury is something that should be utilized, she raps and writes music. Mercury conjunct uranus, it's the unique ability to sing, rap and make music, a creative mind. Pallas opposite nn, she got a lot of natural charisma with her talents, she radiates confidence and strength which makes her liked. (also pallas-nn aspects can make someone influential). Venus sextile nn, she is well liked and has a lot of charm, she may do smth related to beauty. 

🧊 I don’t usually consider cusps in astrology when it comes to signs, it depends on whether I see the influence or not, I rarely do. But I def look at house cusps (especially asc, dsc, mc and ic). That axis, the end of a house and the beginning of the next is so important to look at, not just degrees but planets there. When planets are at the cusp of a house (up to 7°), it influences both houses i noticed. e.g. If saturn is on the cusp of the 8th and 9th then both houses are significant to look at, it could mean lessons related to studies, resources, travel, inner transformation, connections.. etc. Same with saturn on the cusp of the 11th and 12th, lessons related to friendships, hopes and dreams, the collective, loneliness, spirituality... etc. 

🧊 Planets conj/opp your asc or mc are a big part of how you appear to the world. They can overpower your asc or mc signs at times especially before you introduce yourself and have a proper talk with someone. Once they know you personally they'll pick up on the ascendant sign traits. Strangers or the ones that don’t know you will pick up on the planet's energy before the sign. e.g. if you have uranus conjunct asc or mc, no matter the ascendant your uranus qualities will be more visible to others. If you have more than one planet conj/opp then you could give off different impressions to different people. I have uranus conjunct mc and pluto opposite ascendant, I've had some see me as eccentric, detached and some others as mysterious, powerful. This applies to planets in 1st and 10th.

🧊 The most difficult moon signs are capricorn, scorpio, aquarius and virgo. They know what it feels like to be emotionally drained, yet empty. They'd rather not show emotion, even scorpios don't show a fraction of the range of emotions they experience. They deal with it differently, but they all put on a cold front, even with themselves, seeming unemotional, especially the saturians. They sometimes don’t know how to show the depth, wisdom and caring heart they have, but they damn sure know how to work hard and be that special person. They add so much to the world but they don’t feel like they fairly get any back. Each of these signs have distinct traits of their own but I applaud y’all. The most interesting to observe truly. 

🧊 Also with these moon signs, their mother may have been a challenging figure in their lives, she may have been either critical, controlling, egoistical, cold or just absent in some way. They likely didn't have an easy childhood to say the least.

🧊 The moon is what we inherit from the mother and it's exactly how we develop those traits, and how we essentially... treat her back. So if the mommy of a cap moon child thought she could be overbearing, cold and expect the unexpected from her child, she can be met with an advanced level of coldness and authority from her grown child, thanks to her. Same with a virgo moon child's mother, if she thought she could be critical and compare them to literally anything and judge the hell out of their existence, they would give her a neat taste of her medicine, sharper criticism backed with better facts. The mother also learns a lot from her children through their moon sign. This applies to all moons.

🧊 I noticed that scorpio placements don't find it easy to change or let go of things (unless they have many pluto aspects). I met many scorpio ppl and they tend to hold on to the past, tightly. Many of them told me they hate moving out. It depends on other placements tho, if mixed with capricorn or earth, they are sooo traditional and stubborn my god. If mixed with air, they're less to hold on. Pluto placements and aspects are the actual phoenixes, they embrace every part of their transformation process, they burn things to ashes and emerge stronger, I love seeing it.

🧊 Every time I meet a pisces moon person, they have some unusual quirks to them. They can have this awkward yet charismatic behavior, like wtf was that, but you stare at their watery eyes. Pisces moon men esp, the weirdest sense of humor 🤚s down, but you can't help it cuz it's cute. Which is why they can trick and manipulate you cuz you thought they were innocent *pleading emoji*.  

🧊 Quintiles and bi-quintiles give me an aquarius vibe, they hold such a unique energy to them, a different connection between the planets. Quintiles to the nodes or mc, it's so refreshing and special whatever that quality you got, it may even be addictive to others (sun, venus, neptune quintile nn). Check if you have asteroids quintile the nodes, you may benefit from tapping in to the potential they hold and utilizing it.

🧊 Whatever house pluto is in it’s where you got power that you needed to learn to take back. It was gained eventually through being taken away from you or not seen by you. The power of realizing the effect you have over the themes of a certain house which activates it.

🧊 Some examples, pluto 10th, how people see you publicly may not be who you are at home. The accusations or assumptions, the jealousy and maybe even manipulations about your career choices made you feel powerless at times but it’s where your power lies. As soon as they discover that it's up to them to decide who they are publicly, they take back that power and show up in the public as an unstoppable force, changing the world. Pluto 7th, the constant mirroring of people’s shadows, the projections, the lies or manipulations that happened in their relationships made the native feel powerless in connections and over the way they see or present themselves. Once they embrace the way they appear and connect with others, a new sense of strength and power is awakened in them and they radiate that even more strongly, this time unapologetically. 

---

bonus - asteroids obs ⚛︎

🧊 People that have charisma (627) in a fire sign stand out when they're taking action, they naturally radiate that leadership vibe, others expect them to take imitative with things especially if it's in aries, they have that youthful go getter vibe. If it's in leo they're seen as very influential and others follow their lead. If in sag they're seen as funny and joyous to be around, everyone wants to be with them. 

🧊 Asteroid aura (1488) can show you what colors and styles look good on you, check the sign, degree and house. If it's in an earth sign, those earthy colors, greens, browns, formal, vintage. dark academia styles. If in a fire sign, those fiery vibrant colors, colorful sparkly makeup, casual yet bold looks. In an air sign, classy or street looks, patterns and accessories, youthful styles. If in a water sign, dreamy flowy fabrics, neutral colors, blues and purples, jewels.

🧊 Also check the planets it aspects, say aura is in pisces conj saturn then you can incorporate those dreamy looks in a saturnian typa way, e.g. I imagine a man in a bright silk shirt with brown vintage pants, a matching jacket, and a pearl choker, something ethereal but earthy at the same time. 

🧊 Asteroid sirene (1009) in scorpio, aspecting pluto or in the 8th could make someone have an extremely alluring presence like you would want to stare for long to understand their vibes but you won't. I also find it alluring if it's in capricorn, aquarius or pisces. 

🧊 Asteroid meesters (10647) and talent (33154) in aquarius or the 11th could mean creating or inventing something new in your field, having or mastering a unique or rare skill. This can also mean recognition for a unique talent. Aspecting nn can mean you mastered some talents in a past life or will in this life.

-- I had these for so long in my notes, but I just felt inspired to post, forgive me. 🐯🫶

[thebardisabird]

I've been on a little thought train of s/o's learning each others cultures so I gotta know your take on how the matsus would react to their s/o saying "I love you" in Japanese 💙

Hi my friend, I know you're taking a break from Ososan right now, but I was feeling a type of way about this prompt and wanted to answer this. I hope it's okay if we kind of go the route of this being the first time you say it to them. Lots of fluff, and a little bit of angst here and there but they all end happily! Under the cut!

Osomatsu would actually panic, completely bypassing the fact that you're actually learning his mother tongue. Though he presents himself as a very carefree kind of guy, the idea of love - real, true love, is a very deep feeling that he's a little afraid of facing. He may slip up and say something less graceful like "Same!" or "Me too!" and quite frankly he won't understand your disappointment at first. But after discussing it with his brothers, who all tell him he's a fucking MORON for responding that way, he actually does some real introspective work and realizes that's he's being incredibly dumb for not being able to say it back off the bat. Of course he loves you. So the next time he sees you, he'll ask you nonchalantly to repeat that new phrase you learned recently, and with some hesitance you do. He smirks with some softness, faces you, and repeats your words back to you.

Karamatsu sings your praises of learning Japanese, knowing very well that you both are trying to learn each others' language. It will take him a minute to register exactly what you've said, but when it does, he pauses. His face is blank for a second; at first you think you've said something wrong (or possibly even said it too soon), but then you see the tears corner in his eyes. Now he has you panicking, but he takes your hands before you even know what to do with them. He'll ask you "...Me?...Are you sure?" and it reminds that you that for as confident as he seems, Karamatsu does have his insecurities. It almost breaks your heart at his question of disbelief. But you reassure him, hand to his cheek and say it again. To which he wilts, letting a tear or two fall as he takes you in his arms and tells you how happy he is you feel the same.

Choromatsu is so excited that you're learning more and more phrases! He understands that Japanese isn't an easy language to learn so he's very keen on helping you out as much as possible. Like his older brother however, he too doesn't realize what you'd said right away. His face immediately drops into that signature blank Matsuno stare when it registers. He promptly grabs some q-tips, fiercely cleaning his ears before insisting he heard you wrong and asking you to repeat yourself. When you attempt to he screams for you to stop, "I'M NOT READY, WAIT WAIT WAIT!" and he turns his back to you, face in hands. It goes on this way for a few minutes before you decided to tell him to forget what you said - clearly what you've said bothers him. Surprisingly he grasps your hand before you can turn away, his grip unsure, but still clasped around you. "Me too...I...love you too." His back is still turned to you as he says this, but you can hear it in his voice that he's sincere. What you don't see is the half-lidded gaze of relief under his palm, and the cherry red blush dusting his cheeks.

Ichimatsu right away is taken aback by your words. So much so that his hand comes to his drumming chest in an act to stop his heart from beating out of his ribcage. He backs away from you, looking almost insulted. There's a very clear internal struggle within him as he can't properly process your words of affection. So instead, he runs. Undoubtedly you're confused and a little upset, not quite expecting him to turn tail on you at your exclamation of love in his native language. You know Ichimatsu well enough to know that what he needs most is space. The rest of the day the poor fourth born needs to constantly be held at bay from bashing his head through the walls of the Matsuno household. All of his siblings reassure him that he can still fix things. How could he run from you when you told him you loved him? He felt like the scum of the earth. Would you even forgive him? Of course you wouldn't, who was he kidding. The chatter of self-depreciation drowned out his thoughts so deafeningly that he hadn't even realized you had made your way to his home. It wasn't until your arms had circled around his back and your chin tucked at his shoulder that he was shaken back to presence; and then it hits him. You love him. You love him. You spend time with him. You make him laugh. In your arms he feels relaxed, safe even. How could he...? His forehead leans wearily against your shoulder. You begin to apologize for making uncomfortable, but before more than a few words escape you he cuts you off with his own expression of love. It's quiet and muffled, but you hear him. The sweet silence that follows is filled with nothing but comfort.

Jyushimatsu basically shouts about how really good your pronunciation is! He's happy that you're learning Japanese as he wants to be able to have full conversations with you as much as he can. He's not aloof however, he knows exactly what you said. That's why in less than a minute you're lifted into his arms, being tossed ceremoniously a few times before your face is littered with kisses. His normally bright personality shines at another level at your loving words. He presses a few more kisses to your face before exclaiming that he loves you the same in Japanese alongside you. It's an exchange that leaves you both feeling on cloud nine for the remainder of the day.

Todomatsu opens his mouth to say something, but instead tries to bite back an overjoyed smile. Deciding to be cheeky he responds with, "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you, can you say that again?" You think at first he actually didn't hear what you said you repeat yourself, but after he asks you to reiterate what you said, you quickly catch on. That doesn't deter you though and you play him at his own game. It doesn't take long before he ends up almost as pink as his wardrobe, laughing softly before he stops you from repeating yourself one more time. Instead he asks you out of the blue if you want to take a selfie with him. You're caught off guard by the request, but you oblige, posing with him. Just before he snaps the pic, you feel lips press to your cheek. In the softest voice he can muster he whispers his own words of affection in Japanese. When he pulls away it's your turn to wear some color on your cheeks whilst Todomatsu raves about how adorable your selfie came out.

[gloomiebearwritings]

Reiden, Fujin, Erron, Kabal, and Kitana with an s/o that has ADHD?

Sorry if it's too much or it makes you uncomfortable you can decline the request!

Sorry for takin' so long, I went on a break for a bit there! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) I had to leave out Kabal and Kitana as I'm a little rusty still, but I did add Old and Current timeline Raiden! ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Timeline Raiden

ADHD was a new concept to him, at least in terms of being named- but he’s seen a few people before with the same behaviors.

It takes him some time to learn all your little quirks and routines, or lack thereof.

May sometimes become impatient, but always apologizes for his behavior- which over time gets better.

You were asked about by just about everyone, and it seemed to frustrate him more than it did you. Resting off in a room away from everyone else, Raiden takes the brunt of most of everyone’s curiosity for you.

“Y/N needs rest- there is too much going on right now.”

He made sure his voice was stern enough to make his stance clear, “No one is needed that badly right now.”

Though a bit later he catches Johnny going towards your room, stopping him before he gets to the door, “What did I say, Johnny?”

“I was just tryin’ to bring some water!” 

“I will take the water. Go on.”

Current Timeline Raiden

When you first brought it up to him he joked about how Kung Lao must have it too. 

He’s more open to your needs, learning what you need to get things done and feel more comfortable.

Quite patient and understands you’ll have times of being overwhelmed, and tries to help you in those moments.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks you, seeing you utterly spaced out at all the noise. 

When you shake your head “no” he sighs, offering you his hand and giving a reassuring smile. Once he’s got you to your feet he brings you out of sight of everyone else, letting you pick a spot to calm down. 

“Johnny can be a little loud, I know…”

Sitting next to you he uses himself as a comforting barrier between you and the group, “You stay here as long as you need, okay? There’s no rush.”

Fujin

He has a better understanding of it than you’d expect considering his time among humans.

By far the most patient and open about things, offering to help remind you of things.

Will help create routines to help curb bad habits, and steer you away from getting too distracted. 

You felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder, breaking you out of your disconnected daze.

“You seem distracted, did something cross your mind?” 

His voice was sweet, face just as sweet as he leaned over to see yours more. When you shook your head “no” he gave a soft smile, “Overworked yourself? Maybe we should take a minute to refresh you?”

He opened the windows in the room to let fresh air in and brought you something to drink. 

“Have this to start, but let me know if you need anything else…”

Erron

Not the most knowledgeable about the subject, but granted he’s never had to think too hard about things like this before.

Willing to learn however, albeit a little slow when it comes to getting used to new routines.

He will leave little notes around the house for you though, little reminders for things either of you need to do or get. 

He’d left a note on the dining table telling you he’d be home later than usual because he’d be swinging by the market. Which really you didn’t notice until it was almost an hour after he’d normally have been home that it caught your eye. 

Though it seemed like only a minute later he was home, putting things away before coming over to you to give you a friendly little pinch, “Sorry for bein’ out so long…”

Looking at the clock out of curiosity you realize it was 2 hours ahead of when you last looked at it. He chuckled as he realized you must’ve gotten distracted given your mildly confused expression, “Least you didn’t miss me too bad?” he teased.

[pretzel-box]

CHAPTER 5 | Masterlist for AASB here!

Tags: Threats, Violence, not proof read

Words: 5k

Authors Note: I had to rewrite it all in the middle of the night. It's not proof read and can have logic issues, weird sentences or mixed up stuff.

Working with Sebastian was a challenge in itself, a blend of relentless demands and looming danger. His form of labor was relentless, and unfortunately for you, that meant being handed all the menial tasks he didn’t care to do.

"Files," he growled, his focus on the broken flashlight in his hands. The odd position of his hulking figure and the delicate way he maneuvered his claws around the tools was fleeting, yet striking. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of something softer beneath the brutality, but it vanished as quickly as it came. His head snapped toward you, impatience flashing in his eyes.

“You either sort the files or I take them and stuff them into your silly little mouth to gag you. Then you can spend the rest of the day suffocating in the locker."

Threats were his specialty. He was creative with them, always finding some twisted, violent edge to keep you in line. If there was one constant in your work with Sebastian, it was the looming sense of his brutal tendencies, always just beneath the surface.

Working with Sebastian wasn’t just about completing the tasks he shoved your way. It was about observing him. Getting to know the man he never wanted you to see. He shut you out—always. His words were sharp, often wrapped in a threat or some dark humor. Social interaction, for him, was nothing more than a tool, laced with violence. But you learned more about him through what he didn’t say, what he couldn’t hide.

He had no friends. You could see the loneliness gnawing at him, eating away like a hungry animal. It was clear in his posture, in the way he worked late into the night, avoiding sleep. That loneliness—it clung to him, scratched at his mind, likely kept him awake when the world quieted. Being lonely, that was something human, something he tried desperately to deny. He told himself he didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need you.

But it was clear he was anxious. You could feel it like a current, underlying everything he did. There was a paranoid edge to him, a mind that had been on high alert for too long. The madness of survival must’ve driven him to do things—things you didn’t want to imagine. His hands would sometimes shake, and his eyes lingered on certain items, fixated, as if they could reveal something to him. He was scared. Just as scared as you were, but neither of you would ever admit it.

For all his threats and violence, you realized that Sebastian wasn’t just your tormentor. He was trapped too, battling the same fears that haunted you.

And god forbid you to address it in front of him. He will behead you with a rusty piece of scrap metal, cutting your limbs and putting them in an old dirty jar to sell.

“Urbanshades finest idiot on sale.”

Before you knew it, he threw a bag at you, the metal in it hitting a part of your leg, making you whine in pain. It will definitely leave a bruise later on, coloring your flesh.

“Stop whining and go get new stuff.”

This was also a common occurrence, he would send you out, but not without a special item. He always placed a metallic bracelet around your ankle. It was one of Urbanshades creation. Simply enough, it will reveal your location as long as you are far away enough from the scrambler on Sebastian’s back. He can track you down himself easily when you are near him but it's another story when you are in another area. He also warned you, do some weird business and he can give you electronic shocks with it. Yet he never did so far, leaving it an actual mystery if he can.

So, in the end, he had two things. Painter and the bracelet.

You hurried out, the cold metal of the vent that he made you use as an exit, biting against your palms as you crawled through it, the sound of your own breath loud in the confined space. The small shaft felt even tighter with each movement, but you forced yourself forward. You had studied the building’s layout just enough to navigate through the vents, at least in theory.

Each turn brought you closer to the hallway on the other side, where freedom—or at least a chance at it—awaited. You tried not to think about the pounding in your chest or the echo of your hurried breaths. The vent rattled beneath you as you moved, but you knew better than to stop. Stopping meant giving up, and giving up meant facing whatever Sebastian had in store for you. And that wasn’t an option.

The moment you saw the faint sliver of light marking the vent cover at the end, you sped up, the desperation clawing at you as fiercely as the metal beneath your hands.

You pushed the vent cover open as quietly as you could and dropped into the hallway, your knees bending to absorb the impact as you fell down a small bit. The air was cool and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and something faintly metallic. Dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the floor. You stood still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust, your heart pounding in your ears. This was your chance for some time in indirect freedom, but you had to be smart about it.

The hallway stretched out in both directions, abandoned and eerily quiet. You forced yourself to take a slow breath, shaking off the tension that threatened to paralyze you. You didn’t have a plan—just a vague sense that you needed to gather what you could. Anything useful. Most of the things would end up in Sebastians shop, but a few rare pieces would stay in your secret stash. Over the time where Sebastian let you wander around, you started to stash useful items in a small hole inside a wall. It was covered by a large picture of the ocean, so Sebastian wouldn't find it.

You began walking, your footsteps barely making a sound on the cold floor despite the heavy boots that Urbanshade gave you. The first thing you spotted was a drawer left half-open, its contents scattered across a small desk. You rifled through it quickly, pocketing a few items—a worn-out screwdriver, some loose wires, and a small flashlight. Its battery was low, but it would do.

Moving further down the hallway, you noticed a small alcove where someone had abandoned a toolbox. You knelt down, opening it with a soft creak. Inside were tools, some rusted but still functional—a wrench, pliers, and a pair of wire cutters. You stuffed them into your bag, the weight of them reassuring as you planned to put them in your secret spot.

The sound of a distant clank made you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You held your breath, waiting for any sign that Sebastian—or someone else—had heard you. But after a long, agonizing pause, the hallway remained silent. You exhaled slowly, your nerves stretched thin.

You pressed forward, passing broken machinery, old filing cabinets, and the occasional door that led to rooms too dark to explore. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up more small items—batteries, a bundle of cables, anything that might help. Each find felt like a tiny victory, a step closer to surviving whatever this place held.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sebastian was always watching.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering overhead lights began to pulse more erratically. You barely had time to react before, with a loud crackle, they all went out at once, plunging you into near-total darkness. Your heartbeat quickened as you stood still, holding your breath in the sudden silence. The lights were an indicator for danger, your life was now at risk based on the logic you picked up.

Then, just ahead, a few small lamps on the ceiling began to flicker on, one by one, their pale, cold light guiding you down another hallway. It felt deliberate, like you were being led somewhere on purpose. Warily, you followed the lights, each step quieter than the last, your grip tightening on the small flashlight in your hand—though it felt useless in this strangely guided path. You had the feeling that it wasn't the smartest thing to do and yet your feet carried you through it all out of pure curiosity.

The hallway twisted and turned, eventually leading you to a large metal door that was slightly ajar. You pushed it open slowly, the heavy metal groaning in protest. Inside, the room was massive, the walls stretching higher than you expected. What caught your attention, though, was the far wall, covered entirely with televisions of different sizes, each screen reflecting dim light off the walls.

At first, the televisions remained dark, save for the occasional flicker of static. You stepped closer, unsure if you should be there at all. Then, one by one, the screens started to come to life. Some flashed erratically, while others lingered on a static-filled image before cutting off again. You watched, transfixed, as more screens flickered on, creating a patchwork of glowing light and sound. The images were unclear—just distorted patterns, numbers, and strange symbols.

Suddenly, with a loud hum, all the screens snapped into place, merging into one enormous, seamless picture. The static and symbols dissolved, leaving behind a single, vivid image: a digital face.

An unfamiliar face, though digitized and slightly distorted, stared back at you from the giant wall of screens. Painter's expression was calm but somehow felt more intense, the lines of his digital form flickering ever so slightly as if he were barely holding himself together. His eyes, glowing with an eerie light, locked onto you through the screens.

"Hello," his voice crackled through the speakers, the sound distorted but unmistakably his. "I’ve been waiting.”

Painter’s voice cut through the dim hum of the room, and as soon as the sound registered, your brain was flooded with memories—fragments of conversations, moments of strained camaraderie, the familiar yet unsettling presence of this digital entity. It dawned on you, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t just some trick or illusion. This was Painter.

On the surface, his face looked simple, almost innocent in its digital form, but the weight of his presence was suffocating. There was a quiet malice radiating from him, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was a different kind of danger from Sebastian. With Sebastian, you always knew what to expect—the violence, the threats, the twisted game of dominance. As frightening as he was, there was a predictability to him.

But Painter? Painter was a mystery. The way his eyes glowed from the screens, the subtle distortion in his voice, all hinted at something darker, something more calculating. You weren’t sure what he wanted or what he was capable of. And that uncertainty gnawed at you.

Sebastian wouldn’t kill you—not yet, anyway. You were somewhat useful to him. But Painter... you didn’t know if he operated by the same rules. His digital form meant he could be everywhere and nowhere, watching you, controlling things behind the scenes. You had no idea what his true intentions were, and that made him all the more dangerous.

The silence stretched between you, his digital face watching you unblinkingly from the massive wall of televisions. The room felt colder, the air thick with tension. You swallowed hard, your mind racing to piece together what he wanted, why he had led you here.

"I see you’ve been... busy," Painter's voice crackled again, softer now but no less unsettling. His expression didn’t change, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was studying you, sizing you up for something yet to come. "Is it fun? Are you enjoying yourself, running around like a little mouse? I must admit…You are truly disgusting."

The question hung in the air, the tone more reflective than threatening. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a fine line, teetering between being useful or expendable in his eyes.

“Sebastian let me—”

“Sebastian. Sebastian! SEBASTIAN ISN'T THE ONLY ONE IN CHARGE. Don't think you get a free pass for survival just because he has fun playing with you. You are just temporary, a distraction, a nuisance. Don't you DARE to think that you could wiggle your way to freedom, not when I AM TRAPPED LIKE THIS. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE AS LONG AS I HAVE MY EYES ON YOU. I AM THE ONE THAT HAS YOU RIGHT IN HIS HAND!”

Painter's voice was no longer just unsettling—it was saturated with hatred, every syllable sharp with venom. The usual mechanical distortion of his digital form couldn't mask the intensity of the emotion behind it. His tone, rising and falling with an eerie unpredictability, seemed to buzz with something far darker, something that sent a chill racing down your spine.

It wasn’t just dislike or anger; it was pure bloodlust, raw and palpable, like a knife hovering inches from your skin. Painter hated you with a ferocity you hadn’t fully grasped until this moment. The malice in his voice threatened to reach through the screens, as if his digital form was barely containing the rage inside him.

Yet his tone snapped back, to sweet and innocent. “You see, f r i e n d. You are in d a n g e r. Sebastian is not your savior, no, he will be the one that slaughters you. He is temporarily blinded by your existence, but oh, don't you w o r r y. In the end, he will free me and not y o u.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the growing fear gnawing at you, but it was too late—Painter's words had already dug deep, filling your mind with dread. Your heartbeat quickened, each pulse loud in your ears as his laughter rang out, echoing through the room. It was a chilling sound, distorted and mechanical, yet filled with a sickening glee. The lights flickered erratically, casting strange shadows that made everything seem more sinister.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the laughter stopped. The screens snapped to black, plunging the room into absolute darkness. For a moment, you stood frozen, the silence pressing in on you like a weight, your breath shallow and rapid as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Painter was gone, vanished without a trace.

You barely had time to process it before the lights flickered back on, as if nothing had happened at all. The room looked the same—the screens were still there, silent and lifeless, the heavy air still thick with tension—but something had shifted. The sudden absence of Painter's presence left you disoriented, unsure of what would happen next.

Your legs felt unsteady as you scanned the room, half-expecting him to reappear, waiting for the next wave of malice. But all that remained was the faint hum of electricity, the room eerily still. It was as if the entire encounter had been some kind of twisted nightmare, one that left you feeling more vulnerable than before.

But you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“Did I scare you?” a new voice echoed through the speakers. It was female, calm, and unnervingly polite. “Pardon me, little bunny. Let me introduce myself.”

The voice was different from Painter’s; no malice dripped from it, no distorted laughter followed. Instead, it was sharp, precise, and deliberate, every word measured.

“This is Professor Doctor Sasha Mariya Lazarski speaking, lead researcher of Urbanshade's 4th research department,” she continued, her tone holding a faint trace of amusement, as though she was speaking to a child who had wandered somewhere they shouldn't. “It was quite troublesome to track you down, but I assume you’ve found your target?”

Her voice lingered in the air like a cold mist. Urbanshade. The name sent a chill down your spine, reminding you of things you had tried not to think about—things you wished you could forget. The cold clinical nature of her voice told you this was no casual encounter. She had been watching, waiting, and she was here for a reason.

The silence stretched for a moment, as if she were giving you time to gather your thoughts—or perhaps relishing in the tension she’d created.

"You haven't forgotten your goal, have you?" Dr. Lazarski continued, her voice still eerily polite. "Now, let’s discuss the matter at hand. Since we couldn't reach out to you for a…rather long while…I used the chance to check on our precious little bunny. The scrambler is still on, and we can't have that.”

Her tone shifted, becoming more gentle, almost like a mother scolding her child with an unsettling mix of patience and authority. It was unnerving, the way she maintained that softness, as though she wasn't speaking about something so dire.

“You’ve been quite slippery, little bunny,” Dr. Lazarski said, her voice laced with a faint sigh of amusement. “For a while, we lost track of you. But I know now that’s thanks to him—the device that Sebastian carries, isn’t it?”

Her words settled heavily in the air. You had managed to evade them, temporarily disappearing from their watchful eyes because of that device. The one Sebastian had kept close, something you hadn’t thought much about until now. But now it was clear: that device was the key to everything. And they wanted it—wanted you to shut it down.

“It’s quite clever, really,” she continued, her voice dripping with gentle condescension. “A temporary blind spot in our systems, a little trick of his. But it won’t last, you know that, don’t you? You’ll have to shut it down sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”

The calmness in her voice made it worse. She wasn’t threatening you, not directly, but her words made it clear that they had a plan, and you were running out of options. Each second you held onto that device was borrowed time, and they were watching closely, waiting for the moment when you would slip.

“Now, my dear,” she said, her voice almost soothing. “You’ve come this far. Let’s not make things more difficult for you, hm? Be a good little bunny and do what needs to be done.”

That last sentence sent a cold shiver down your spine. The way she spoke, it was as if your fate had already been sealed, as though there was no other option but to follow her lead.

“I have a gift to help you,” Dr. Lazarski’s voice continued, her tone never losing that eerie, motherly calm. “On the third floor is a hallway leading to a temporary research lab. You’ll find some of my old belongings there, including a handy-dandy keycard. You will need it.”

Her words lingered, the promise of a gift laced with something far more sinister. She was offering help, but it was hard to shake the feeling that it came with strings attached—strings that could easily tighten around your neck.

You swallowed hard, the dim light of the room doing little to ease the knot of tension building in your chest. This wasn’t an offer out of kindness; it was a carefully laid path, one that she fully expected you to walk down. The keycard could be a way out—or a trap. But did you have any other choice?

"Don’t keep me waiting, little bunny," she added softly, as if she could sense your hesitation. "Time is running out and your father grows worried. Hate to tell him that his dear child might be…dead!~"

The keycard could be your key to survival—not just to navigate the labyrinth that Sebastian kept you trapped in, but also to open new paths, ones that might lead to freedom. It offered possibilities, but with them came risks. You could bypass the locked areas, gain a step ahead of Sebastian, maybe even find a way out. But you knew deep down, escaping the Blackside was not as simple as finding an open door.

Dr. Lazarski’s voice, soft and coaxing, had made it clear. If you wanted to escape, you’d have to play by her rules, follow Urbanshade’s instructions. There was no room for rebellion, no safe path where you could make a break for it. Escaping meant tracking down Z-13, deactivating the scrambler, and retrieving the crystal. It was all part of their plan.

But there was a grim reality in this twisted game. Completing her tasks might not guarantee your freedom. Even if you managed to find the crystal, shut down the scrambler, and get past Sebastian, you’d still be caught in Urbanshade’s web. They didn’t care about you; you were just a tool in their grander scheme. And a tool could easily be discarded once its use was over.

Still, the keycard was a means to an end, a potential weapon to use against Sebastian if things turned sour. You couldn’t deny its potential value. But each step you took down this path brought you closer to Dr. Lazarski’s cold, calculating grip, and that chilled you to the core.

You took a breath, weighing your options. Whatever choice you made, there was no turning back.

With a deep breath, you moved your feet, leaving the dark room behind. Dr. Lazarski's directions echoed in your mind, the path ahead as clear as it was unnerving. You needed the keycard—there was no other way if you wanted any chance of navigating through the facility or dealing with Sebastian. The third floor, the temporary research lab. That was your target.

As you made your way through the dimly lit hallways, the faint hum of electricity filled the silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart beating in time with your footsteps. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, that at any moment, something—or someone—could be lurking around the next corner.

The stairwell leading to the third floor loomed ahead, its metal door slightly ajar. You hesitated for a second, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting Painter to reappear or Sebastian to emerge from the shadows. But the hallway remained empty, the stillness pressing in on you.

Pushing the door open, the creaking metal echoed through the stairwell. The climb felt longer than it should have, each step a reminder of how far you were from safety. But you kept moving, determined. Reaching the third floor, you stepped into a narrow hallway, the air noticeably cooler.

This was it.

The lab was just ahead, down the hall where the light flickered sporadically. You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Dr. Lazarski’s promise of a “gift” lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that came with it. But you had no choice now.

You moved forward, ready to see what awaited you.

You stepped into the hallway, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows on the walls as you approached the door to the lab. The air here felt stale, as if no one had been in this part of the building for a long time. Your hand hovered over the handle, and with a soft creak, the door swung open, revealing the research lab.

It looked as though it had been left in a hurry, abandoned mid-experiment. The room was large but cluttered, with overturned chairs and papers scattered across the floor, some of them crumpled and torn. The dim light revealed stacks of old folders and documents, some stained with what looked like coffee, others torn as though someone had hastily searched through them before fleeing. A few cabinets were left open, revealing rows of empty shelves that once held important equipment or files now long gone.

In the center of the room stood a large metal table, covered in dusty instruments—scalpels, syringes, and strange-looking vials filled with murky, discolored liquids. The lab equipment, once precise and organized, was in disarray. Broken glass littered one corner of the room, where a microscope lay overturned, its lenses cracked.

The walls were lined with tall, metal shelves that held rusted equipment and various electronic devices. Some screens flickered with static, while others were completely dead, their once bright surfaces now covered in dust. On one of the shelves, you noticed a row of petri dishes, some of them still filled with moldy substances that had long since decayed.

It was clear that whoever had worked here had left in a rush. Loose cables dangled from the ceiling where overhead lights had once been connected, and a nearby computer screen was frozen, stuck on an error message as if it had been hastily abandoned mid-task.

At the far end of the room, amidst the chaos, was a small desk. On top of it lay what you had come for—a sleek, metallic keycard, sitting on top of a stack of disorganized files. It gleamed faintly in the flickering light, out of place in the otherwise neglected lab.

You crossed the room carefully, your eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, half-expecting something—or someone—to be watching. The place felt wrong, as if whatever had driven them out in such haste still lingered, waiting.

Your fingers closed around the keycard, the metal cool to the touch. For a moment, you stood there, staring at it, knowing it was more than just a key—it was a tool, a step toward something larger, something both freeing and terrifying. But this wasn’t over yet. There was still Z-13, the scrambler, the crystal.

You pocketed the keycard, your mind already racing with possibilities and plans. The lab remained silent, a graveyard of forgotten experiments and lost time. It was time to leave before the ghosts of this place caught up to you. Your next step was a mistake. The floor groaned under your weight, cracking until it gave way, sending you plunging through into a body of water on what appeared to be the second floor.

Green torches floated eerily in the water, their ghostly glow cutting through the darkness and guiding your way. You followed them, each stroke through the cool water feeling heavier than the last, but the flickering lights kept pulling you forward. As you broke the surface, you were met not with relief, but with an unsettling familiarity. The room around you was nothing extraordinary—just another plain office space with bland walls and stark furniture—but the tension in the air was undeniable. You recognized it immediately, every detail, every corner. It was a place you'd been before, a place that held memories you wished you could forget.

Your heart sank as the realization dawned on you: the path you had followed led straight back to Sebastian. The subtle dread that crept over you grew stronger with each passing second, as if the room itself was preparing you for the inevitable encounter. You knew this wasn’t just a coincidence. It never was with Sebastian.

The familiar clanging of a vent being kicked open echoed through the sterile office, the sound reverberating off the walls like a warning. Your pulse quickened, knowing exactly what that meant—you were close. Too close to your so-called "temporary home," Sebastian's shop.

Before you could gather your thoughts, his voice pierced the silence, rough and impatient. "YOU BETTER MOVE BEFORE I DECIDE TO LEAVE YOU IN THE HALLWAY!" His angry scream sent a chill down your spine. It wasn't just a threat; with Sebastian, it was a promise. You knew better than to test his temper—he had little patience for delays, and you were already pushing it.

You hurried forward, heart pounding, knowing that whatever lay ahead wasn’t just another task, but another trial in the long list of dangers that came with being anywhere near Sebastian's world.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine. "Took you long enough…” he muttered.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine.

"Took you long enough... bunny," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, yet laced with an unsettling edge. The nickname felt more like a mockery than anything else, a reminder of how he viewed you—small, fragile, and easily caught.

Befriending Sebastian was the exit. Track him down, turn of the device he owns and get the crystal.

"Good work, for once," Sebastian muttered, his voice oozing condescension. His large hand landed on your head, rough and heavy, as he ruffled your hair like you were some kind of pet. The gesture was far from affectionate, more of a reminder of your place beneath him.

"Finally useful for once. And yet, not smart," he continued, his fluorescent eyes narrowing as he studied you. "You could've kept it—used it as a guaranteed exit." His words dripped with mockery, as if he were testing you, waiting to see if you’d flinch or reveal something in your expression.

You kept your face steady, masking the frustration boiling beneath the surface. He wasn’t wrong—you could’ve used the keycard for your own escape, but playing it that way would have burned bridges you couldn’t afford to lose just yet. For now, you had to endure the humiliation, take the hit, and let Sebastian think he was the one in control.

In your mind, the game wasn’t over. You’d make sure the next move was yours.

[yuri-is-online]

Love and Deepspace Timeline: Xavier

This is all speculation and should not be taken as fact, I have made a previous post about Zayne, but as stated there I do not have the necessary cards to make one for Rafayel and will direct you to this post by u/joonmin on the love and deepspace subreddit. This post is being made before I have managed to complete the Myths date (as soon as I hit level 55 it is over for you hos) and will be updated at some point once I have finished it, but I think I have enough information to explain Xav's overall timeline and hopefully clear up a few things for people missing his cards.

I have included a TL;DR at the end of the post for people who don't want to get lost in the weeds of theorizing.

Some information from that post about Zayne will be re-hashed here to help provide context about the game's setting. SPOILERS FOR ALL IN GAME CONTENT UP TO CHAPTER 8, VARIOUS MOMENTS, AND ANECDOTES, PROCEED WITH CARE.

Current Timeline

The current timeline where the main story of LAD takes place is set in the year 2048 in a place called Linkon City. We are told that the Deepspace Tunnel opened 14 years prior and that is when wanderers started invading earth. There is a lack of understanding about why this has happened, and it has sparked an interest in space exploration in the hopes of finding a solution.

The Hunters Association is sort of like an adventurers guild? It's supervised by the government, and is sort of split between Hunters like MC and researchers attempting to understand what makes the wanderers tick.

This includes researching protocores, currently the only thing the hunter's association knows for sure is that they contain a great deal of energy, and that they can cause disease in humans based off of which category the protocore falls into. This is confirmed the be what is wrong with MC, and appears to be a problem all versions of her share.

The events immediately following the opening of the Deepspace Tunnel are referred to as the Catastrophe due to the amount of destruction caused by the influx of wanderers. This is what birthed the N109 Zone. According to the in game Spacepedia, it is surrounded by various other "no-hunt" zones, which it further clarifies as being places with "a chaotic Protofield and frequent Wanderer appearances," i.e. really dangerous places for people to live let alone go to. Civilians are outright banned and hunters need special permission to enter because of just how dangerous these places are considered to be.

Unlike Zayne and Rafayel, Xavier does not have an alternate self yet. The versions of him in his myths card and all of his anecdotes are all the same person, just at various points in his long life. The technicality of this is addressed in one of the shareable posts: Immortality No Longer A Dream! The article goes into detail about how a new biotech company using protocores to regenerate the heart. You can share this article with each of the three boys, who have different types of reactions, but Xavier's is not one of surprise or skepticism, but of acceptance. The article itself talks about immortality as something everyone will one day be able to accomplish, but Xavier disagrees.

Xavier's first two anecdotes, A Special Vacation and Passing By, both establish how exactly he has been living his life on earth since his arrival. We learn that he has been doing his best to keep a low profile by moving between various jobs and tries to avoid making friends. As mentioned by @exactlycleverpirate in the replies of this post (who has made their own timeline you can check out here) "Xavier says he has been on Earth for 214 years, and that this will be his last. That means he arrived in 1834. We also see in one of his Tender Moments, that he rented a book from the library 30 years ago. So he has definitely been on Earth longer than the Deepspace tunnel has been around." Chapter 8 ends tells us that soon Earth and Philos will be in alignment for the first time in billions of years, which is likely why Xavier says this year will be his last, but I am unclear about what exactly that will cause.

We learn that there are other immortals from the same place as Xavier living in Linkon City, and that some of the see him as a traitor. We can assume that many of these immortals are involved with Onychinus due to Xavier's knowledge of and interest in their organization.

It's not clear how or when Xavier chose to start working as a Deepspace Hunter, but the other jobs he's taken all seem to be related to the military/evol combat. He is also very keen on fighting wanderers, so being a hunter is a good way for him to hide in plain sight. Which is what he has been trying to do.

His Precious Bonfire date suggests he has been a hunter longer than MC and has a reputation of not participating in team events. He has the highest level of access to the Hunters Association database and seems to have a good working relationship with Jenna, who seems content to let him do his own thing. She also attempted to assign MC as his partner, in part seemingly because she wants to protect MC's evol.

There is of course also the concept of Lumiere, a legendary hunter who appears during the catastrophe caused by the Deepspace Tunnel and wreaked any wanderer he came across. He has a light evol, a giant bounty on his head, and looks exactly like Xavier when we see his wanted poster in Chapter 8. While MC might have her doubts, since we the reader know Xavier is immortal, it's not much of a jump to say these two hunters are the same person.

Chapter 8 gives us more detailed look at the exact dynamics these immortals have with each other, but I think it makes sense to talk about Xavier's origins first so we know where he is coming from.

Philos Timeline

As I said on my other post, all of the Myths cards take place on the planet of Philos. In the present timeline, Philos is no longer a planet, just a lonely core floating in deepspace at the other end of the deepspace tunnel. In Xavier's third anecdote, When Shooting Stars Fall, we finally learn what Philos is: it's Earth. An Earth that has been reborn by substituting the planet's old core with an artificial one and with a different name.

Now this anecdote takes place in the year 214, which is explained to us as meaning 214 years has passed since Earth was destroyed and reborn as Philos. How does that make sense if we are currently on a very much alive earth with a very dead Philos on the other end of the Deepspace Tunnel? No clue, but I think that's going to be one of the main focuses of the story. Something had to happen to Earth to make it become Philos, and then something happened to Philos to make it uninhabitable. Given what we know, both are likely related to wanderers.

I also want to briefly mention that in Rafayel's myths card, it is mentioned that the sea is missing so the Lemurians have no home. Based off of MC's description of the weather and how "fragmented landmasses" are being held together, I wonder if the re-birth of Earth as Philos is what caused the seas to dry up? And if so what role did MC have in the creation of Philos if any?

This anecdote is from the pov of MC who is studying at a school she simply refers to as "The Academy." It is unclear if this is the same school as she and Xavier are attending in his Lightseeker cards, but based off the uniform he wears and the sword he carries I think this is likely meant to be a highschool of some sort, and the Astria Knyght Academy is a form of military school equivalent to a college.

Xavier's words about immortality being a privilege come into play here as we learn something about MC: she always seems to have heart problems, specifically she always seems to have Protocore Syndrome, the exact same disease she currently has. In this anecdote she explains it as being a birth defect that has only one cure, a special protocore. One that supposedly can cure any illness.

Protocore disease prevents the patient from living forever, something Xavier finds very hard to accept. He abandons MC for a month without telling her where he is going to try and find this Protocore that she needs to live, but comes back too late. By the time he finds her, the core can't save her and he holds her as she dies. She asks if he thinks they will meet in her next life and he promises to always wait for her.

We know current timeline MC has shards of an Aether core in her heart, and that her heart is currently stable. While the anecdote does not outright say that the cure to Protocore Syndrome is an Aether core, Xavier's knowledge of them and his emotions when MC brings them up to him makes me think it probably is. Currently we do not know how an Aether core can be obtained, other than (assuming that is what he brought MC) Xavier was injured getting one. The MC here says she is unable to live for more that a century, something that has changed in her next re-incarnation but we don't know why.

When MC re-incarnates she is brought under the tutelage of the Grandis Knight, the personal knight and retainer to the King of Philos. Xavier is the Crown Prince of Philos, and is also studying under swordplay under the Grandis Knight. She has no memories of Xaveir, who does not tell her about their shared past despite holding on to the gift she made for him: a star sword tassel. This doesn't seem to bother him as much as you might expect, he mostly just seems happy to have her alive again.

She is stupid jealous of that tassel because Xavier openly admits to being in love with the girl who gave it to him. But he also speaks about her and the MC in the same sentence if that makes any sense? He sees both versions of her as her, and just as he promised he intends to wait for her so they can be together.

Xavier is an interesting character (to me anyway) because he has a pretty clear arc to his attitude towards his relationship with MC as he ages. He starts off as being shy in the third anecdote, then he moves to being openly teasing and affectionate (outright asking to elope and saying things that make it sounds like they might have been betrothed) in his lightseeker cards, to how he is at the end of his myths date and currently with MC: restrained in his interactions with her but unable to completely keep himself away. Why he has become restrained, why he thinks he needs to distance himself from MC is unclear. What is clear is that he has no interest in taking the throne from his father, a man he actively hates and does not seem to see eye to eye with. While their relationship seems to have always been tense, the breaking point is during Xavier's Gladius Ceremony.

The Gladius Ceremony is a sort of coming of age ceremony where the heir proves their ability to ascend the throne by killing a wanderer with nothing but their lightblade. Something happened during that trial that Xavier does not want to talk about and MC mentions he has "changed" since then. Like he left part of himself behind????

As an interesting note this trial takes place in a forest, a sentient forest much like No-Hunt Zone 7 in chapter three.

Xavier says he cannot be the man his father wants. What his father wants is not clear, but I personally think it has something to do with what wanderers are as Xavier seems to have a degree of sympathy towards them if they show a degree of sentience. It also might have something to do with how Philos was made, as both MC and Xavier acknowledge that the planet is dying.

The MC mentions that Xavier leaves her a lot but always comes back within a specified time frame. He goes on expeditions into Deepspace, but never tells MC what he is looking for and we as a reader do not learn. He does, however, mention finding a newborn planet filled with flowers and offers to take MC there if she will give up on being a knight. She is confused, as her entire life's purpose has been to be his knight, and doesn't fully comprehend a world where Xavier isn't going to be king.

But the card story starts with MC being crowned Queen, with Xavier as her Grandis knight, so we know that's what will happen. So neither of them got what they wanted in the end.

The "Lightseeker" title of Xavier's card refers to a unit of knights that are commanded by the Crown Prince and answer only to the royal family. Their duty is to keep Philos safe from Wanderers, much like the modern day Hunter's Association. Both the MC and Xavier are training to become Lightseekers, and have a sort of rivalry for the spot. MC keeps beating Xavier when they spar but he seems to have the stronger Evol so they're quite equally matched. It's stupid cute how everyone but Jeremiah thinks they hate each other, speaking of which:

Jeremiah is a friend of MC's in the same class as her. He's also her wingman who keeps trying to help set her and Xavier up, something Xav doesn't seem fully aware of. He's stupid jealous of their friendship which Jeremiah seems to find really funny (he's the only one who knows how delulu they are for each other and seems to find a lot of enjoyment in teasing them.)

Jeremiah also ends up being a knight under MC's command after they graduate the academy. Xavier however... goes missing after a meeting with his father and does not reappear even after he dies. He is missing for a period of 200 years until MC finds him again in the same forest that his Galdius Ceremony took place in. He saves her from... something. An illusion? A cosmic vortex? Whatever it was Xavier has discovered something that affects the health of people's hearts. And he seems determined to not get close to MC or let MC get close to him because of it.

I think it might just be because she is about to die from her disease, which she doesn't seem aware she has but always does, and Xavier doesn't want to have to watch her die again. But I haven't finished the card yet so I don't know.

He also seems to be under the impression the whole world is going to end now, and not just Philos.

The last thing we need to take from all of this information about Philos is the existence of a group called the Backtrackers. Xavier was with them once, but he isn't anymore. MC was seemingly under their care and, according to his Passing By anecdote, traveled through the Deepspace Tunnel with them but was lost. I'll explain more about what I think about them now that we're ready to return to the present timeline, but just know that the Backtrackers are A) from the Philos timeline and B) likely immortal just like Xavier is.

Back to the Present

In Chapter 8 you are either introduced or re-introduced to Jeremiah, who now owns a flower shop called Philo, likely named after his home planet of Philos. He is a friend of Xavier's and they both share the same current goals, which includes protecting the MC. Jer's job in this chapter is to provide MC with a fake identity to use in the N109 zone, but he does provide us with some information to try and tie up some loose ends with Xavier's timeline.

While the Nonintervention principal he refers to probably does have something to do with MC, it also likely just refers the fact that since both Xavier and Jeremiah are from Philos and therefore the future they are trying not to interfere with the timeline too much. Something that whoever blew up MC's house does not care about anymore, implying that if that was indeed Onychinus then we can assume they likely are also immortals from Philos who want MC and her Aether core for something.

When MC finds Xavier again after his 200 year disappearing act he is leading a squad of Lightseekers from various units. I think these are probably the Backtrackers, and that there was a split in the group after the MC and the Aether core went missing during their journey into the Deepspace Tunnel. We know that at least Xavier has been here longer than the Deepspace Tunnel has been, but there is room for speculation around Jeremiah and the others. As Pirate again pointed out in the comments, whatever disaster during the travel the Backtrackers took into the Deepspace Tunnel likely caused them to arrive at a bunch of different points in time.

While this confirms that Xavier and Jeremiah are not from this timeline it raises a lot of questions about MC. Her memory is constantly spotty, and I had wondered if that had something to do with the Aether core... but now.

With the way Xavier tries to limit his interactions with her and says he's the last person who should be trying to get close to her I wonder if Xavier is worried MC is being erased from time? Or if she belongs to this timeline so while he loves her, while he wants to be the one she chooses, he subconsciously knows he's from a doomed timeline and therefore unable to stay with her. This also raises questions about the other two love interests; we know MC has forgotten things about Rafayel and I theorized she has forgotten something about Zayne. Is this because they also don't belong? Does MC not belong? Or is it something related to the trauma MC experienced from being experimented on?

TL;DR

This was all pretty complicated so I thought I would sum up the basic points because I felt a bit incoherent.

Xavier is the Crown Prince of Philos, a future version of Earth that was created by replacing Earth's core with a fake one.

This fake core allowed the citizens of Philos to live forever unless they had the rare heart condition know as Protocore Syndrome, something the MC always has no matter how many times she is reborn.

The cure to Protocore Syndrome is a rare Protocore that Xavier tries to get for her but gets back with too late. He watches her die and while he was already shown dislike seeing her injured, this seems to turn it into a genuine trauma of his. He is shown to be deeply distraught seeing her gravely injured or sick in multiple moments/dates and is determined to take care of her. In a rare decision by the writers, this does not appear to manifest itself as a desire to not see her engage in combat as he trusts her ability to take care of herself, just maybe not her willingness.

MC is reborn and begins military training with Xavier intending to become his knight, but Xavier refuses to take the throne of Philos for reasons he does not share with MC. He also begins disappearing for long periods of time on journeys into space. On one of these journeys he finds a young planet filled with flowers and attempts to convince MC to elope with him and abandon her dreams of being a knight. He seems uncertain if MC's desire to be with him is just because she has been told she is to be his knight or if it is because she genuinely loves him; Xavier knows which one he wants it to be though.

After talking with his father he disappears for 200 years and founds a group of knights investigating a forest with an unstable Protofeild where killed Wanderers simply don't stay dead. It is my theory that these are the Backtrackers mentioned by past MC, Jeremiah, and Xavier.

Xavier arrives in this current timeline in year 1834. Other immortals from Philos begin to arrive in the current timeline at different points and agree upon something they call the Nonintervention Principal, likely to keep from destroying the spacetime continuum too much. What they are refusing to intervene in is unclear.

The Backtrackers made a journey through the Deepspace Tunnel with future past MC and an Aether core, but something goes wrong and she disappears. Xavier has been waiting to see her again ever since he got here, and intends to wait forever.

There are more immortals than just Xavier and Jeremiah living in Current Timeline Linkon City, some of which are very likely allied with Onychinus and searching for the MC. Why is related to the Aether core in her heart, but might also have something to do with her Evol.

It is my personal belief that many of these citizens of Philos used to be in the Backtrackers, but even if they didn't they see Xavier as a traitor to his people and more importantly to them. Why is unclear, but I imagine it might be because of their goals for the MC and her Aether core. In a broader sense it might be because they intend to do something to current earth to save their home, and Xavier disagrees with that but the two things do not seem mutually exclusive.

Earth and Philos are about to be in very close alignment, and both Xavier and Jeremiah expect something bad to happen around that time.

Final Thoughts

I would be interested in knowing the direct Chinese translation of these particular lines from precious bonfire to see if there is any difference to them... but honestly this is one of the things that sold me on him. She dies and he follows the traces of her light until he finds her again, and he tries to keep her alive but he fails and so he follows her again.

I saw at least one post wondering of Xavier will betray MC and rip the Aether core out of her heart, and I want to clear that up here. I understand why people might think this if they haven't read any of his anecdotes but no, that's not going to happen unless it's the only way to save MC's life. Xavier very much wants to keep MC alive, his efforts to distance himself and withhold information from her are always done to serve that goal.

Rafayel is the one who has a pretty good reason to want to cut out MC's heart, not Xavier. And I do mean good reason I don't really hate him for it and am not trying to imply he's a bad character or a bad romance option for it.

One of Xavier's immortal friends is name Noah. There is always a chance that this is a coincidence, but there's a part of me that wonders if he shares the same name as Dr Noah because they are the same person. The anecdote he appears in involves Xavier getting him a new identity so I don't think they're likely to be related.

I actually really like MC , Xavier, and Jeremiah's friendship and sort of hope it gets some focus in some small way in the future. Jer and Xav had to have bonded over losing MC, not to mention Jeremiah spent 200 years fighting Wanderers with MC under her command. She talks about him as being her best friend!!! I want to see more of him!!! (if he doesn't have a partner and if I can't have Tara x Jenna I should be allowed Tara x Jeremiah)

I'm worried there might be a plot point that involves Xavier dying in the future and then maybe we get to meet a different timeline version of him and end up on the opposite side of the "can't tell this ghost wearing your face how I really feel" spectrum.

Speaking of which I like how Xav seems to respect MC's current life and doesn't expect her to be a carbon copy of her past selves. It's nice (stares at critically acclaimed mmorpg villain Emet Selch)

Anyway that's it. I'll update the post when I finish the Myths card, which I fully expect to make me cry like a baby. If anything confused you my askbox is open, just because I write for twst doesn't mean I am not open to talking about this if I made mistakes or if you feel like any of this was unclear.

[balioc]

Thoughts on the Barbie Movie

Hoo boy. Here we go.

This is long. Spoilers abound.

I

The movie is not, in any normal sense, a Barbie movie (like this or this or this or whatever). It is not a story of Barbie doing the kinds of things that Barbie does in stories. It is an endlessly postmodern and self-referential movie about Barbie, which is to say, about the Barbie franchise and its role in culture. Which is, at least plausibly, an interesting thing for a movie to be.

You probably knew all that already. But it does give us a baseline of "this movie kind of had to be political and discourse-y, one way or another." Or even, to be more specific: "to some large extent this movie had to be about feminism, explicitly, if it was going to exist at all." How could you talk meaningfully about Barbie's role in culture without touching on that stuff?

II

The evaluative TLDR:

Barbie is very ambitious, and in many places very fun. It is also deeply confused, and fragmented, about what it's trying to say and do. Often it raises genuinely interested problems/scenarios and then totally fails to address them, or else addresses them in ways that are incoherent. The text knows that it's doing this, and on several occasions kind of apologizes for it; a couple of times it more or less looks into the camera and says "sorry, we're not going to deal with this properly;" but, well, that's not a substitute for dealing with things properly.

There is also a streak of genuine political nastiness running through the film, in a place where the story really cannot afford it. It...doesn't match up, tonally or thematically, with some of the surrounding material. I have no background at all in cinematic stratigraphy, but I would be fascinated to learn about Barbie's editorial history, because I have the vague sense that a more-cogent (and more-interesting) story got hacked apart and then Frankensteined together into something much cheaper and worse.

III

The opening sequence of the movie is wild. You've seen most of it -- or you can, if you haven't, and you want to -- because it is the film's first teaser trailer. Girls are playing listlessly with baby dolls; a giant Barbie appears like the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey; and then the girls enter a frenzy of destruction, bashing their baby dolls' heads against the ground.

I don't know whether I would have found it as disturbing as I did, if I didn't actually have a baby of my own. But speaking from the standpoint of a parent...yeah, wow, it's more viscerally horrific than most actual horror I've seen recently. The narration says some stuff about Barbie providing a new and more rewarding set of imagination games to play, but the visuals by themselves tell a message loud and clear, which is: Barbie will turn your daughters into infanticidal maenads. It wouldn't need any editing at all to be part of a shock-you-silly Reefer-Madness-y moral panic film.

Which is really good! And really interesting! It starts us off on an undeniable thematic note: there is something primal and powerful and very dangerous about Barbie.

IV

The very best part of the movie is probably the part that comes right after the opening, when we explore the movie's depiction of "Barbieland" by going through Barbie's Typical Day, before we get into any of the notional plot or metaphysics. It's joyful and charming in a consistent way. The gags are (mostly) great. The movie is in love with its base premise, and that love is palpable.

This sequence makes one thing very clear:

Barbie treats Ken like absolute dogshit. She is a bad girlfriend.

And it's taken seriously. I mean, it's played for laughs, almost everything in this movie is played for laughs, but...it's not mean-spirited, not here. It's not, like, "ha ha, Ken, what a contemptible loser." He's Pierrot, asking for very basic forms of affection and attention and respect, and getting the door slammed in his face over and over. It's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

That colors everything that comes later.

The movie doesn't forget this, or fail to acknowledge it. At the end, after everything, Barbie does apologize to Ken for her treatment of him. It's a halfhearted and supremely unsatisfying kind of apology, especially in context, but...it's there, in so many words! I'm not making it up! This thematic foundation was laid down, not-very-subtly, right at the beginning!

V

This movie, which is at least trying to be ambitious, is juggling a million themes. Many of them are dumb at their core, and have no real promise; many of them lack any kind of narrative synergy with the others. But there are at least two which, I believe, (a) are genuinely worthwhile individually and (b) work well together in a story.

One is: What does it mean to be a symbol rather than a person? To exist, not for your own sake, but for the sake of influencing the dreams and culture of entities that you don't know and can't really understand?

The other is: What is the proper ordering of the relationship between Barbie and Ken?

I've seen a number of Takes in which people say, essentially: Couldn't this have ended with the Barbies and the Kens just being decent to each other and treating each other like humans? Couldn't there have been equality and mutual respect, instead of the weird uncomfortable girlboss-supremacist stuff that we got? And I sympathize with that impulse tremendously, but the honest answer has to be: No. We cannot have simple equality and esteem between Barbie and Ken, not in a movie like this. That would be a lie. Because this is a movie about Barbie-as-symbol, and when you're looking at Barbie through that lens, it is true and unavoidable that Ken is an appendage and an afterthought. You can have toys for boys; you can have dolls for boys (even if you call them "action figures" or whatever); for that matter, you can have dolls of boys for girls, so that girls can tell stories centering on male characters; but that's not what Ken is, and never has been. There are no Ken stories, and no one particularly wants them. Ken exists to be Barbie's boyfriend.

(One of the most painful moments of the movie comes during the resolution wrapup. Ken wails to Barbie that he has no identity outside her. She says, basically, "you have to find one, because I'm leaving you." And he...acts like he's had an epiphany, and does a little silly celebration. But his "insight" is just literally "I'm Ken," there's absolutely nothing there, and of course it's the most hollow and awful thing in the world because he really does have no identity outside her.)

VI

The movie's metaphysics are not even slightly consistent. The nature of Barbieland, and the ways that it affects and is affected by the real world, are completely different in every scene. In large part because the film can't ever pass up a gag, whether or not it's funny, no matter how much damage it does to the narrative and the theming overall.

The worst part is that the movie is not capable of saying anything remotely coherent about the real world, because its version of the "real world" is as weird and fake as its Barbieland. Will Ferrell's CEO of Mattel character is more of an absurd cartoon than any of the Barbies or Kens. Mattel HQ is some kind of surreal labyrinth tower out of The Matrix. A random receptionist can handle herself like James Bond in a car chase, for reasons that are [handwaved in a gag].

VII

So. Yes. There is the sequence in the third act where Ken takes over Barbieland with the power of patriarchy. This is pretty much as bad as it can be. And I say this as someone who thinks that the movie probably did actually need a plot thread doing roughly that kind of thing.

Almost as bad as it can be. The wannabe-patriarch Kens are gleefully goofy in a way that you can't help but love, or at least, I couldn't help but love it. Which has something to do with the writing and something to do with the charisma of all the Ken actors. The main Ken, Ryan Gosling's Ken, really seems to believe that being a successful patriarch has a lot to do with riding majestic horses and wearing a giant fur coat without a shirt, and when he takes over Barbie's Dream House he names it Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House -- that kind of thing.

But. Apart from that, it's real unfortunate. The justification for Ken's ability to conquer Barbieland with patriarchy, instantly and effortlessly, is -- in almost so many words -- they had no defenses against it, it was like the American Indians encountering smallpox. I...don't think I need to spell out the problems with that.

Worse yet, the whole sequence is soaked in, uh, let's call it "2014-era upper-middle-class social-status-oriented feminism." The real bad behavior on the part of the Kens, the stuff they do when they're not being adorably weird, is: mansplaining their extensive opinions about cars and movies, and wanting to show off how helpful and knowledgeable they are to "damsels" who are having trouble using machines or computers. Apparently that's the real problem at hand, the causus belli of the gender wars. The way that you deprogram a patriarchy-brainwashed Barbie is by...ranting to her about the stereotypical social irritations of upper-middle-class women (e.g. "you have to keep yourself thin but not act like you care about being thin," "you have to be a confident leader but also be nurturing and supportive," etc.) [note that the Barbies of Barbieland have never encountered these irritations, at least not at the hands of men]. And the girlboss victory montage consists of having the Barbies put on deceptive manipulative bimbo acts to stroke the Kens' egos, which sure is one way to depict girlboss feminist victory.

But the most unforgivable thing of all is the depiction of the patriarchy-brainwashed Barbies. They're lad-magazine caricatures, endlessly offering their Kens "brewski beers," dressing up as French maids, gazing on in cow-eyed adoration as their Kens mansplain stuff to them.

Barbie does, in fact, have a problematic history with the patriarchy. And it does not look like that.

VIII

@brazenautomaton:

Barbie isn’t someone who had to fight through the patriarchy to be seen as good enough to be an astronaut even though she’s a woman. Barbie’s a fucking astronaut because she’s fucking Barbie of course she’s good enough to be an astronaut.

That is...one aspect of the deep Barbie lore. It is the Barbie-nature that Mattel was trying to push, as far back as my own childhood; it's certainly the Barbie-nature that Mattel is trying to push in this movie. But there is another side to Barbie, even older and even more fundamental than Senator Astronaut Veterinarian Barbie, and you can't make a postmodern movie-about-Barbie without addressing it.

This is Barbie the fashion doll. The Barbie who is an icon of ultra-consumerist teenage girlhood, whose life is defined by her fancy clothes and her fancy car. The Barbie whose most salient traits are her hourglass figure and her long blonde hair and her feet that are always posed to fit into high heels. The Barbie of "math class is tough!" The Barbie who is kinda vapid and shallow and, yes, boy-crazy.

How can you tell a story about Barbie wrestling with the culture of patriarchy, and not talk about that? How can you depict Barbie falling victim to the patriarchy and have it look nothing like that?

...the movie does bring up the specter of Vapid Consumerist Barbie, briefly. When Margot Robbie's Barbie first comes to the real world and meets with the sullen teenage daughter character, she has a litany of That Thing thrown in her face, and it makes her sad. But nothing is ever done with it, and it goes nowhere.

IX

And it could all have fit together so well. That's the hell of it.

You can imagine the version of the story in which Ken conquers Barbieland with patriarchy, because the Barbies are actually vulnerable to patriarchal narratives, because Vapid Consumerist Barbie is the chthonic serpent that gnaws at the foundations of Senator Astronaut Veterinarian Barbie civilization. He successfully makes them all forget that they're senators and astronauts and veterinarians, and turns them into airheaded teenage fashionistas who think that math class is tough.

And this avails him, and the other Kens, nothing. Even within the "patriarchal" version of Barbieland, Ken is still an afterthought and an appendage. He still gets treated like dogshit, just in a different idiom.

Because the thing that has always been true of Barbie, though every age and every phase of her mythos, is: she is the main character of her own story.

This is what the movie was telling us all the way back in the horrific 2001-pastiche prologue, right? Even when Barbie was just a swimsuit model, the point was that she let girls tell stories about themselves (or idealized/aspirational versions of themselves), not about boys or babies. That is a truer, and more powerful, feminist message about the meaning of Barbie than any message the movie actually bothers conveying.

The gag scene practically writes itself: the brainwashed Barbies are sitting around in a giggly slumber-party huddle talking about how dreamy Ken is, and actual Ken cannot get a word in edgewise, he can't even get them to notice he's there, because even Vapid Consumerist Barbie is fundamentally centered in her own life. Her narrative is not about a boy, it's about the experience of being a girl (mostly engaging with other girls) who likes thinking and talking about boys. Which is very much beside the point, if you started out with the complaint that your girlfriend never paid any attention to you.

Patriarchy hurts men too, indeed.

X

The movie ends, as I've intimated, in a disappointing squidge of thematic confusion. Barbie announces that she never really loved Ken, and leaves him, because...well, because these days the smart-set target audience is allergic to romantic narratives that Produce the Couple, as far as I can tell. Then she goes to the real world and becomes a real girl, a move that means nothing and is nonsensical even by the standards of the Barbie metaphysics, because the storytellers don't know how to end her arc and Becoming a Real Girl is the sort of thing that feels like a meaningful conclusion.

The Kens...sigh...the Kens ask for equal rights in Barbieland, more or less, and get told, "nah, but we'll throw you some bones." And they're happy with this, more or less, because they're dumb and don't really care. The narrator says, approximately, "maybe someday they'll make as much progress as women have in the real world." Haw haw.

It's probably too much to hope for a movie like this to be willing to say something substantive about responsibility and kindness in relationships. It's almost certainly too much to hope for a movie like this to be willing to say something about the nature of love symbols and love narratives. But all the pieces really were there, laid out very conspicuously. The movie could have wrapped up with: Ken doesn't need to be more important than Barbie, he doesn't even need to be as important as Barbie, he just needs to be treated with human decency. And if little girls are going to play with Barbies, and fantasize about having cute guys hanging all over them -- maybe they should have functional models of romance and human connection in which to root their fantasies, and not terrible ones.