#coping with life and all the good and bad that comes with it

[merbear25]

Life has thrown its fair share of curve balls my way, some of which resulted in near death experiences.

When I was a teenager, I remember being so angry with God for letting me live. I was told he was a merciful God, so I interpreted his refusal to end my suffering as blatant cruelty.

I thought that I had to live up to some great purpose, that I couldn't have just been spared without such a reason. However, each close run-in with death following left me feeling more and more distant from the pressure I was putting on myself. The anger I held towards God faded, because I started to realize that none of those instances were my time.

I think about how the air smells, how the wind combs through my hair, the feel of the sun on my skin. Life is beautiful. Even when I struggle to find my way out of the darkness, those little things I once took for granted help ground me.

Maybe I'm just meant to experience the joy I never thought I would. No larger than life meaning to the days that rise and set, other than to enjoy them as they come.

These are just the thoughts that have been with me for many years and hopefully many more to come. No real purpose to share other than to simply do just that.

[altarfates]

I have so many grimsley thoughts.

[randomwriteronline]

"Where are we going, brother?"

Pohatu doesn't answer. He keeps walking with his hand on the wall, quicker than all of them; every now and then he knocks gently on it.

There are no Rahkshi down here, no Exo-Toa or Rahi or anything. It's a tunnel that from the colosseum leads into some kind of pipe system different from the sprawling Archives, but equally as labyrinthine. Pohatu walks through it easily, knowing the general direction towards which they're going - that being, towards the Turaga, whom he sent on their own way to safety when Teridax's universe-wide attack unfolded before their powerless eyes. They'll take longer to show up where the Toa will meet them, but he knows they're a crafty lot: they'll have no trouble evading whatever might try to get them.

When asked how he's so familiar with this hidden piece of Metru Nui, he shrugged. He went for a long run all over the city on his first visit, he answered truthfully, and even when he did not add anything after the others were perfectly satisfied and did not insist with questions, because it's only natural for him to want to explore every nook and cranny of a place at maximum speed.

And because he is still on edge.

He hasn't blown up at them since they tried to ask him where he has been for one hundred thousand years, but he still flinches harshly to get their hands off of himself when they try to touch him, and he still looks at them angrily, and sometimes he still growls.

Takanuva hits his head on the ceiling and groans. His mask's silvery light stutters.

"Careful, little brother," Pohatu tells him with his normal, playful, gentle voice that lately he uses only for him, their younger siblings, and the Matoran: "That's the fifth time you try to break a hole through the tunnel."

"It's not like I'm trying," Takanuva mutters back.

"Maybe you should start shortening again?" the Toa of Stone jokes like he refuses to do with his siblings since meeting them at the Codrex. "Can't be too hard - try pulling your limbs real tight to your chest, for a start."

"And how would you suppose I'd walk, then?"

"You'll roll!"

The Av-Toa laughs a little.

He stops when the others don't join in, and his eyes ask them what makes them so uncomfortable. Gali shifts her shoulders.

Silence sits upon them like a vulture.

The color of the viaduct changes at last. Pohatu quickens his steps to build some distance between him and his siblings, awfully focused. He knocks once, then again: a high pitched hum leaves him as he stops dead in his tracks and faces the wall - his tone is indiscernible, incomprehensible, either flat or interested or something else entirely.

"What did you find, Pohatu?" Tahu asks loudly as the rest of them hurry closer.

His brother turns to him with an empty gaze and no answer.

The back of his head hurts.

And his spine, and his arms, and his legs, and his chest, and his hips, and every single minuscule atom of his entire body as it crashes against its brethren until he can barely breathe or think while the anguish lights his nerves like a wild fire raging through the forest on an impossibly dry day with a cruel hot wind that howls too strong.

The sound comes to his audio receptors later - a terrifying impact, as loud as an explosion. He turns his head, what was that? An ambush? Where did it come from? Where are his siblings?

He counts their masks in a dim light, blotches of color in his muddled vision: black, white, blue, green, red with him. He reaches for his Hau and finds his hand unable to move - is it broken? When he tries to look down his chin encounters resistance and he fails to recognize anything. Five out of seven. Five out of seven... His body hurts. Why does it hurt? Five out of seven...

A strangled grunt catches his attention.

Pohatu struggles hoisting Takanuva, who does not move, in his arms while also holding a small lightstone to see anything in this dark.

Frustrated, he lets the stone fall to the ground: "I've got you, little brother," he reassures his unconscious sibling as he plucks the Mask of Light from his face (why does he take the Mask of Light from his face?) and slips his arms around his torso, trying to lift him. "Oof - damn it all, you're so heavy now - see, that's another reason you shouldn't have been allowed to pick that cursed mask up, if you were still a Matoran this whole thing would be much easier..."

"Pohatu!" Lewa cries, panicked. "Pohatu! Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," their brother replies.

"We're trapped! Stuck!"

"I can see that."

Are they trapped? Are they -

His arms groan from the strain of being squeezed too tight and pain shoots into his eyes, burning his field of vision into scalding white. It relents slowly, leaving him winded, and as he collects himself he realizes: the opposite wall, the one Pohatu was inspecting, has lunged towards them and trapped them against its twin.

Ambush. An ambush. His body hurts. It was an ambush. His body hurts. It hurts so much he can't concentrate.

Onua chokes on what would be a shout for a few horrible seconds before heaving hard when the pressure finally eases up on him and spares him from being crushed.

What is doing this? A Rahkshi? Must be a Rahkshi. It must be.

His body hurts so much.

"Stone," he hears Kopaka breathe, "It's stone."

Stone. It's stone... So? A renegade Toa? A mutated kraata? Tahu strains to listen. No, there is no sound here: only his siblings hissing in pain as their frames are pressed and Pohatu grunting as he finally manages to secure at least the upper half of Takanuva on himself and off the ground.

Oh. Oh - oh, it's stone. It's stone! Oh, thank Mata Nui, it's stone.

Destiny decided they can be lucky for once.

"Pohatu!" he cries through gritted teeth while his chest is constricted tightly, "Pohatu - the walls, they're, it's stone - hurry, please, get it off of us!"

The answer he gets is flat, deadpan: "That'd be counterproductive."

"What?" Gali responds immediately, panic stirring around her heartlight like a whirpool - this feels too much like their confrontation, that strange feeling of wrong overwhelming in his neutral tone: "What do you mean? Pohatu-!"

Her voice cuts off with a painful whine as the rock clenches around her tight enough to make her armor creak around her limbs.

Pohatu ignores her.

They call for him multiple times. Over and over. As best as they can through the strain put on their bodies that almost drives them mad with anguish.

In the dim light their brother takes his time.

They watch him will a seat out of a portion of the wall, placing Takanuva down upon it; his masked forehead laid on his little brother's, the Avokhii in his hand (why is the Avokhii in his hand?) disappearing from sight as it is slipped away on his person, he murmurs something to the Toa of Light with a gentle tone, a comforting tone, while he holds his limp hand. His eyes extend none of that gentleness to his siblings when he turns to them.

"So!"

The wall presses hard against their bodies for a single second: pain lances through them like a downpour of spears and rips the voices out of the five of them in a swift cruel move.

Pohatu gingerly walks to stand upon their prison, twisting the lightstone in his hand, casting terrible almost tangible shadows all across the claustrophobic space as the light struggles to escape through the gaps in his fingers.

"If all goes well you'll be rotting here for, oh, roughly the rest of eternity, and I'll never have to see any of you again," he tells them almost casually as he towers over them, though there is a deep poison drooling out of his mouth. His blue visor gleams terribly, his eyes looking just as blue and cold and hard behind it: "So I guess it's as good a time as any for a little story."

He bends to look at them closer, just for a moment. In the dark, it's hard to tell his expression.

He rises again to stretch with a groan: the stone moves as malleable as fabric to meet him when he leans back, sitting himself down comfortably upon it, and he slumps forward to prop his chin in his palms as though he was looking at something so very curious.

The arrows of light from his hand carve deep lines into his mask.

"In the time before time Artakha made six Toa to protect the Great Spirit and the Av-Matoran, but that's the part that you know already," he continues as they can only stare at him, too stunned, too in pain: "You know it all up to the point where the five brave Toa go into their safe ball at the bottom of the swamp and take a nice long nap while everything around them gets destroyed. So the question is, whatever happened to the dirt one?"

His head shifts suddenly.

Tahu feels his eyes slowly digging holes into his own.

"By the way, I'm almost touched you remembered my element this time," Pohatu tells him. His voice is quiet, between a stage whisper and a real one. "Only took four to five near death experiences."

He wants to snap at him.

He wants to thrash and snarl and demand what is wrong with him.

He wants to open his mouth and speak to him.

He wants to ask him what is going on.

He wants to reach out and grab him and hold him still, and beg him to explain, and speak in a calm voice to him until everything is fixed.

He barely manages to breathe.

Pohatu holds his gaze a little longer. He blinks, and cranes his neck away from him with a sighed hum - it's so dark his expression can't be seen but the movement seems almost bored - and taps on the side of his mask with his fingers: the lightstone peeks from between them at strangled intervals.

He observes them struggle to adjust to the changes in lighting uselessly, as they are first offered bursts of brightness and then plunged back into darkness after mere seconds.

He is toying with them.

This is not Pohatu.

This cannot be Pohatu.

"I stayed in Karda Nui. I tried to evacuate the last Matoran before the energy storm swallowed them. I managed a few. I failed most of them. It was a job for six Toa, but I couldn't really hope five of them would materialize out of thin air just because they were needed."

He breaks into a short chuckle. It's a softer version of his usual booming laughter. It sputters poison all over them.

"And it's not like you would have made any difference if you'd stayed - you're barely even Toa to begin with."

This cannot be Pohatu.

This is not Pohatu.

This is a fake.

This has to be a fake.

When did they lose him? When could he have been replaced? They never lost sight of him in these tunnels, it must have been earlier. In the Colosseum? As they were returning to Metru Nui? Before escaping Karda Nui? Before he met them at the Codrex? He had mentioned it briefly, had said he had met a big bugger - a Makuta? A kraata? A shadow leech? Something else? Where is he now? Where is their brother? Where are they keeping him? Is he alive? Is he... He can't be, he can't! They can't have killed him! Unless they trapped him in Karda Nui... With the Makuta... And the storm... No, no, no, Pohatu is smart, Pohatu is quick, he can't have died there, he must have escaped. He must have escaped, and he must have made his way to Metru Nui, or maybe somewhere else safe, and he's looking for them, or planning a way to blow up Teridax while keeping the universe unharmed, or maybe he's been captured again and he's being hurt or tortured or killed and he's worried for them, maybe, maybe, maybe...

"And you'd planned to leave me to die anyways," he shrugs.

"No!" Lewa chokes out. He recoils, he shifts, he tries to twist in his prison, to break out, and treespeak spills out of him faster than he can give any of it sense.

Not like he is given much time to try to.

Halfway along his attempt at something (an appeal? An explanation? A curse? An apology?) a wail cuts him off together with a searing pain. What little light washes over him is enough to see how the rock ensnaring him wraps around his head to shut his mouth in a tight, tight, tight grip, his mask almost crushed within: the rest of his body, likely, is suffering something similar.

Pohatu waits patiently until his whimpering dies down - until he himself decides to relent the pressure a little.

"I thought you were interested in this story," he says as he tilts his head. His brother struggles to breathe through the stone binding his mouth as he gives him a desperate look: the Toa of Stone remains unbothered. "You even made me heartpromise to tell you," and his tone is sneering when he mentions the word, "So why are you interrupting me now? Am I boring you? Are you bored? Should I stop? I can stop. I have other things to do."

Lewa's inarticulate whines sound like sobs, but can't answer.

Pohatu stretches his legs: "Alright then! Saves me time."

"Wait," Onua rasps. He struggles to speak while his lungs are compressed, limiting how much air he's allowed to inhale. "Wait. Please. Where... How... How... The storm... You... Survived..."

"Evidently I did, if I'm here," his brother replies. "Even if you think it's a real shame I didn't get vaporized."

"Don't... We don'... Don'... Please... Please... Breathe... Can't... Please..."

No answer.

Breathing gets harder.

He can't see.

He can't see.

He can't see.

He's going to faint.

He's going to faint.

He's going to...

Going to...

Going...

To...

Finally the pressure leaves.

He gasps noisily, greedily, exhausted.

Pohatu watches him like he's a disgusting squirming krana, struggling to writhe to safety as it lays on marshy ground.

"But yes," he continues softly. "I am here because I did escape. When I couldn't hope to bring any more little siblings to safety, and I couldn't hear their screams over the crackling of the storm, I followed your example and ran away. Then the Makuta found me, and took pity on me - isn't that funny? The Makuta, taking pity on something? Something as weak and useless as me? - and they kept me in their brotherhood. And the were all so very nice to me, like you've been ever since you couldn't remember how you used to think of me, for a few hundred years or so, before they got bored of such a sad sack of gravel and left me to rot outside of their laboratories."

There are so many things wrong in what he says.

So many, all at once.

The faint light illuminates a smile beneath his mask - a small, honest, deeply fond smile: "Except Teridax, of course."

Fire rises beneath Tahu's armor.

"What did he do to you?"

Pohatu looks at him almost surprised.

"What did he do to you?" the Toa of Fire repeats, louder, more insistent. It's so clear now. The deception, the bitterness, the harshness, all of this - if this is truly their brother, who else but Makuta Teridax could turn him against them in such a cruel way, so thoroughly convince him they hate him?

He can't see her, so much does rage narrow his vision, but he hears Gali's voice: "Pohatu," and it shakes a little with his same anger, even if the only thing she can say is their brother's name, unable even to demand of his what she wants to know, because what else is there for a sister to say when her loved one has been molded into a bitter misshapen shade of himself by as dreadful a thing as her old enemy? "Pohatu - Pohatu--"

In the dim light, a stunned expression widens into a grin.

The Toa of Stone leans forward: "Do you want to know?" he whispers, conspiratorial, "Do you want to know what he did to me? The ghastly, horrible, torturous thing he's subjected me to?"

They must say something in their fury, some kind of affirmation: they need to know, of course they do! To better make him regret it!

Carefully, slowly, Pohatu places the lightstone down before himself.

Its faint light illuminates him better, more clearly, so that they can observe him much better: his armor is completely unmmarred from the rotting color given by a kraata's corruption, its shape is unchanged, his eyes are the same. He lets them watch closely as nothing in his appearence changes or shifts - as every single part of him remains perfectly still, the same as they've always known.

He watches them back; he smiles as he does, looking at them wait for something, anything.

He grins wider, perfectly identical to himself.

"He cared about me."

The look on their faces is just... Comical.

Pohatu laughs.

"Isn't that insane?" he taunts them. "Just absolutely demented? Who would ever think of that, to care for me? About me? To think I'm good, and useful? To find some sort of worth in me? He's always been drawn to revolutionary concepts, but this one might just be too far!"

He laughs.

He laughs so hard.

It's an almost hysterical sound that rattles the tunnel in its entirety and echoes through it, loud, erratic, horrible, stuck somewhere between genuine and mocking, amused and furious. It's so strong that he holds his face in his hand and folds in on himself, and the way his shoulders jump with every wailing chuckle almost makes him look like he is crying his heart out.

"What a stupid idea!" he struggles to shriek out as he laughs, "Devoting time to me! Reassuring me! Praising me! Me!"

He coughs.

Twice, thrice, a few more times.

He knocks on his chest to get all of it out of him until he finally stops, utterly winded, groaning as he tries to catch his breath. A giggle or two still falls from his mouth from time to time. It's getting harder to tell if they are not sobs.

A deep inhale - and his hands are back under his chin, an amused grin is back on his face, a sudden incoherent calm is back over him.

"So to answer the original question, the dirt one spent a hundred thousand years awake helping the only being who ever gave a widget about him with his plan while his brave siblings slept nice and tight in their canisters," he continues, right where he left off, as though he hadn't been caught in a rapturous maddened amusement just seconds earlier. "And he watched everything, from the Barraki's imprisonment to the Metru Nui civil war, to the Dark Hunters setting their sights on the heads of the Brotherhood, to the Toa Metru foiling a perfectly fine plan when they shouldn't have endangering hundreds of Matoran in the process, until a litte Rama told him that the other five had decided to get up for once. And then the rest you should know, if you haven't forgotten it already."

Silence.

Comical.

Absolutely comical.

Look at them stare, struggling to breathe.

Look at the disbelief dripping from their masks as though they just emerged from a pool of it.

Pohatu looks at them, nice and long, and everything in his body aches so terribly that he thinks what he feels might finally be release.

He's finally done it. Finally, finally, now that he has them here at his mercy, accused and tried for their failings, punished but not killed, he's purged every single drop of vitriol boiling within himself upon them and he's free. His guilt and hatred and phantom pains of limbs he never had is theirs now; he is allowed to live unburdened by the person their disgust of him angrily shaped him into.

"You lied to us," Gali speaks softly.

He tilts his head at her: "Hm."

"From the beginning."

"Put a date to this beginning. Mine is waking up with you five to Artakha's voice in that blasted chamber."

"You... You can't be him." her voice is unsteady. "You can't be him."

"Who?"

"Pohatu. My brother. You can't be him. Pohatu is-"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" he interrupts her. "You'd love for me to be dead."

"Pohatu isn't like this!" she almost roars. He can feel her - how she trembles furiously within the stone, desperate to break through it. "Pohatu isn't a liar! He isn't a being this overwhelmed by hatred!"

"You would know," the other croons, but his eyes sour. "The most trustworthy source is the one that wasn't there, isn't it."

"I know my brother!" Gali shakes; the binds around her creak like a poorly constructed dam against the rush of a raging river. "I've fought with him, joked with him, confided in him! I could recognize him anywhere! I know who he is! I love him!"

"YOU LEFT ME!"

The wall groans horribly with them as it crushes them within itself.

Takanuva, unseen, twitches barely as he remains trapped in a shapeless bad dream.

The being standing before them has his hands balled so tight into his own fists that they can hear the adaptive armor shriek as it dents and scratches itself. He heaves long deep breaths with difficulty, as though the air in the tunnel wasn't enough.

The lightstone is half buried within the rock, almost cracked: lances of its glow make him seem larger than he already is, and his eyes behind the visor burn.

"You LEFT me," he repeats. His breathless voice is a faraway avalanche coming ever closer, dragging the world down upon them with it. "You left us to die. You knew what would happen, and you did not tell me. You did not tell anybody - it was your secret safety exit, not mine, not the Matoran's, just yours. All yours. Just for the five of you. The Order of Mata Nui made it just for you," and here it turns into a whine, a whimper, a plead for help that mauls the fingers reaching out to lend their earnest aid, "Just for you five, nobody else, nobody else - there were only five canisters, weren't there? Weren't there? Not six, only five, because you all planned it together, behind my back, behind our little siblings' backs, because there was never any need for me or them, was there? No need at all, and no need to tell us, no need at all. Nobody wants to know they'll die, nobody does, nobody deserves to know they will die even when death can't be avoided so they can at least make peace with it or fight back against it, and that's why our little brothers and sister aren't little anymore, isn't it? Ah-"

His hands open, the stone clenches; his hands close, the stone clenches. He folds and unfolds his fists maniacally, histerically, as he struggles to breathe, mouth agape beneath his mask, eyes trained onto the agonizing Toa and barely seeing them.

"Ah, you are just like those pests," the words drool out of him like foamy spit, and by how hard he shakes he really does seem to be convulsing, "Those damned rats - ah, ah, Mata Nui truly has a fondness for liars and cowards, doesn't he? Must see himself in them, if he keeps choosing them as his guard - if he keeps favoring them, giving them power, trying to save them - ah, ah..."

"Pohatu," is all that Kopaka manages to choke out.

The being heaving and trembling turns to him with a slow, stunted motion and the empty eyes of a mad Rahi. His mind seems to be elsewhere, but he holds his gaze and waits.

Despite the pain and struggle to inhale, Kopaka's quiet voice fills the silence: "They did not know."

No answer meets him.

The wall softens against them. Their limbs ache so much that focusing on anything else is impossible, but at least breathing comes less hard.

The Toa of Ice hisses as to not crumble.

He needs to speak.

If he speaks, the other will calm.

If he calms, he will be more likely to listen.

If he listens, everything can be cleared, and this will stop.

He needs to speak.

Great Spirit damn him and his abysmal storytelling.

"The storm, and the Codrex," he struggles through the words as he tries to carefully construct his sentence. "I knew. I did not tell you. And I did not plan to. That is true. It seemed like a sound plan. As you said - nobody wants to know... Nobody wants to know they could die. It seemed like a good idea. It was not. It was not. I was... The only one who knew. And I did not tell anybody. When you... Cornered me - you can read me so easily. You always could. When you cornered me - I told you. And I - the way I worded myself, was wrong. I never... Meant... That anybody else knew. I was... It was... My plan."

"Kopaka-"

"My plan," he insists over Tahu's interruption. He knows what he wants to do, but he can take the blame. He wants to. It's his fault this is happening. "Only mine. You... I would have. All of you - I would have kept quiet. And we all would have gone in. You included. That was the plan. It was always the plan. All six of us. Your canister - it was there. For you. But I was the only one, who knew. I was-"

He hushes suddenly. His head cranes, his eyes shut. The sound of the stone that slams a dent into his temple comes with a delay due to how quickly it happens.

Lewa's cry out to him is muffled by the rock muzzling him.

His brother can't respond anyways.

"That's a lie," Pohatu only says hoarsely.

The wall hardens around their bodies again (Kopaka's doesn't even lament his pain at all, completely limp) and Onua lurches forward despite the ache ricocheting through his entire being, Pakari glowing faintly to lend him enough strength to fight back: "No!" he growls, "He's telling the truth! We didn't know! We didn't know! We were just as angry as you - if we'd-!"

His mask dims as his head falls back. Another ghastly bang marks, a bit late, the appearance of the dent that knocks him out.

"That's another lie," Pohatu repeats.

He sounds tired.

His eyes wander over his last three conscious siblings, frozen in a horrified terror: "Who's next," he asks, though there is no questioning inflection to his words - only a horrifying exhausted wrath that gnaws at his tendons even when there is barely anything left for it to eat. "Who else wants to lie to me. Don't be shy. Don't be shy, do it, you've done it a hundred times before. Don't be shy."

Lewa sobs. He wails within the cage that constricts his mask, looks at him with eyes wider than a moon, howls without words.

The muzzle tightens and chokes his scream inside it.

"They're not dead," Pohatu spits. "I am a Toa. I don't kill."

He knows it doesn't make them feel any safer, because he knows they can hear his entire body straining to scream no matter how much I might want to, no matter how much you would deserve it through his mouth.

He knows he doesn't want to. He knows he never wanted. He knows it has to be them - provoking him, poking at him like one does at a dying ember to make it spark some more. They want to break him completely and tear away from him the only thing they can't have: the knowledge that he's in the right. The knowledge that he's the only one out of them who was ever deserving of being called a Toa.

It must be them. It must be them. Because they hate him.

They hate him, and so he hates them.

So it must be them.

At least, his inaction makes them squirm.

Tahu calls out to him. He turns to him, so tired, so heavy.

"Those thousands of years ago," he speaks in a calculated manner, careful, because even though he wants to make him break the code he is still afraid of death (not because he is still trying to reach out to the Pohatu he knows, the brother he loves, that can't be it, because they hate him) "What did Kopaka tell you?"

"The truth," the Toa of Stone replies quietly. "And I know it was the truth, because it would have been easier to rip the words from inside his throat than wait for him to tell me."

"And what was the truth?"

"Your plan. He told me you and him were told what what to do. He told me the five of you would have gone in before the storm would have hit. He told me you would have been safe while it descended on Karda Nui the Matoran. He told me you would have gone into the canisters and waited until duty called you to action again."

"We didn't know," Gali whispers before her brother can stop her. "Lewa, Onua and I, we didn't know."

Her arms creak as they are almost flattened.

She bites back a scream.

"Of course you knew," Pohatu shuts her down with a bitter glance. "You must have known. Nobody else asked Kopaka any questions. Nobody else needed to be told. He said, we'll get to safety. We'll enter the Codrex. The five of you. Not me. Not the Matoran."

"That 'we' always included you, too," Tahu says. He sounds like he's begging him for something. "You're our brother."

His brother's fist tightens: "Then why didn't you come for me," he asks in that flat tone. "Why didn't you track me down. Why didn't you bother to chase after me to explain yourselves. Why didn't you force me into that blasted thing. Why didn't you drag me with you, kicking and screaming as I might have been."

In the dim light, the Toa of Fire falters; he gasps for air for a moment, searching for excuses, before he lowers his eyes and admits, ashamed: "I thought we wouldn't have time."

"You left me." Pohatu translates.

Tahu shakes his head.

"You left me," Pohatu repeats, harsher, voice cracking softly: "I was your brother and you left me to die."

Before any of them can argue otherwise, the wall closes around their bodies to crush them once more with an agonizing tardiness, piercing white hot pain through their brains like a drill; it wanes just as slowly to give them a moment of respite in which they struggle to recognize the echoes of their own groans and wails still traveling through the tunnels.

Pohatu's body obstructs what little light the cracked stone still shines as he collects Takanuva in his arms ever more easily than the first time he tried to do so. He moves his little brother's head to lean on his shoulder, so that he can be at least a bit more comfortable; he nuzzles it gently, comfortingly.

Poor Takua.

He didn't deserve this.

His last look at his siblings still sizzles with poison.

"Scream as loud as you want," is all he tells them, venom dripping from every syllable: "You have all the time in the world, and nobody to hear you."

Then his mask gleams; in the blink of an eye everything goes dark, and the wall clenches its grip around them again.

[coles-scythe]

Not asleep yet, I was playing DQXI earlier to work on getting all the extra outfits and now my brain is filled with thoughts of Erik. Also how dirty they did him (and everyone but the Luminary) in Act 3.

EDIT: I realized I went on a very long rant in the tags. Spoilers for the game and it's post-game content in the tags.

[navydoves]

Dragon!Sylus and his habits while in heat

❥ You always knew being a dragon’s mate was going to be a bit… difficult.

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ absolutely claws you. you think your scratches on his back are bad? yeah, no, try dragon claws. yes, they HURT, but they hurt SO GOOD. sylus knows how fragile humans are so he won’t ever scratch you enough to really hurt you, but he will leave marks. mating season is when you get the most scabs and bruises.

pounding into you never felt so good. he needs somewhere to release the extra excitement in him and so sylus will gets a little claw-happy. no part of your body is left untouched, he’ll mark every part to make a beautiful masterpiece of pink and red on your skin.

❥ he tries to impress you. much like a modern bird, sylus is always about impressing his mate before mating with them. sometimes for days even before he has you bent over, he’ll begin the first step of courting you, which could be done by a multitude of things.

sylus with walk around naked, flexing his muscles and shiny shimmering scales in hopes of impressing you and seeing how virile he is. not to mention he’ll obviously show off his DDDs—double dragon dicks! they’ll swing low or perk up high, thick and creamy for your enjoyment. he’s saying “hey, hey! look at me! i’m the perfect mate for you.” sometimes sylus will growl at you or make certain warning noises not to scare you, but to show you he can protect you by doing that. it’s an entire draconic ritual that will have you simultaneously confused, impressed, and most importantly, aroused.

❥ he’s so goddamn loud. sylus is not usually one for loud noises, he prefers more tame atmospheres in his home… until he’s in his heat. day and night you’ll hear him stomping and thudding into things to assert dominance. it’s to simultaneously scare people and let them know that he’s there and not to be messed with.

not only that, but he roars. his growls are pretty loud and booming too, but sylus rarely lets out a full snarl unless he’s pretty upset or pretty horny. he’ll do it to anyone, even you. except, he uses his loud noises to instill fear into others but instill submission into you. don’t like it? he’ll try to tone it down, but it’s a reflex at this point. try to close your ears while he’s coming, it’s a powerful sound of pleasure and accomplishment.

❥ he has toy eggs. sylus knows he can’t give you babies and it makes him super upset. all his heat makes him think about is giving you babies, so to cope he got toy eggs. he essentially makes you play house with him with the eggs. you have to play mama dragon and he’s daddy dragon, and daddy dragon’s job is to protect and provide for his family while mama dragon’s job is to nurture the kids.

and he genuinely does do that. he will stalk the nest he’s built for you and his toy eggs; he will bring you and the eggs food to eat in the nest; he will bathe you and the eggs with his tongue; he will legitimately get emotional if something happens to you or the eggs. he’s a little hormonally crazy but you indulge him every single time.

❥ DOUBLE TROUBLE! that’s right, you’re cock-trained to take sylus twice at a time. on a normal occasion, you’ll only take one dragon dick at a time so you’re not overwhelmed. sylus will alternate so as to not neglect either one of his cocks, but that all changes during his heat!

DDDs all shoved up your poor pussy, you’re gonna break! sylus has slowly size trained you over every occasion of sex until you could somewhat comfortably take him two at a time. it takes so much restraint but he goes slow at first and by the time you’ve calmed down and let out the tears, he’s ready to really fuck. always paying attention to you, always licking away your tears, always embracing you, sylus will still give you the ride of your life. it’s like two rollercoasters at once, so jarring but addicting. how can you even still be tight after that? it’s a mystery. 𖤐

tl: @mangobellini , @rin-dont-wear-clothes , @kentosbak3ry , @napa-the-yappa , @amaveon , @ivysorrele , @webshooterrr9, @calebandenergydrinkaddict , @ch4c0nnenh4 , @lilkactuz

[domesticated-whores]

I fucking hate the early stages of getting better where you only have maybe 1 or 2 solid, semi-healthy coping mechanisms that aren't the most reliable at all times and you're still shaky about it all. I'd rather just be better, but at least when I'm not okay at all I lose all hope in where I could be and I've already forgotten how it feels to be okay and stable. and I KNOW I need more, solid coping mechanisms. but I just went from absolutely no healthy ones and zero hope of getting better to having a few healthy-in-moderation ones and being able to verbalize some basic life goals, so this is progress. I'm not there yet, but this is what I've got and I'm getting there. And it fucking sucks because every time I get here it only becomes so much more obvious how far I have fucking slipped.

[luvchaew]

what are you wearing?

riding a sweaty sunghoon because he looked too good in tank tops and you almost took it personally.

“you really couldn't wait, could ya?” dom!sunghoon x horny!reader wc𓈒 1.1k — not proofread! ✴ fluff, unprotected sex (protect urself guys), riding, p in v, cursing, banter, praise & degradation kink, pet names (hoon, sweetheart, doll..), implied multiple rounds, mdi!

𝑚. 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

you were lying down on the couch, phone in one hand as you scrolled absent-mindedly through many different social medias, a blanket draped lazily around your lap and a cooking show passing on tv that you tried to pay attention to but soon gave up. even if some videos caught your attention, nothing really entertained you. sunghoon promised you he'd be home by 8:30 from gym, and it was already 8:46, wait, 8:47.

when the door opened up with a loud thud and not-so-careful steps approached, you wondered whether you'd pretend to be sleeping, or if you'd look like you were fully invested in the contestants baking pumpkin pies. he was in the living room sooner than you'd calculated, and he caught you mid changing position, fixing your hair unstoppably.

“oh, so you're finally ho-” you muttered pretending not to be embarrassed, but stopped mid sentence as he walked in: big ass grin, confident steps, bangs sticking to his head with sweat from the workout and a cap that covered half of his face. that alone would've finished you up in any situation, but yeah, there was more. black compression tank top, defining his abs and clinging to his chest like a second skin.

“what the fuck are you wearing?” was the only thing you asked after checking him out for a few seconds, careful not to let your jaw drop or something. he looked confused, clearly not expecting anything but an angry version of you. his eyes followed yours, trying to catch up on what you were referring to.

“why? is it bad?”

“not at all, that's the problem. i was supposed to be mad at you.”

“yeah, sorry for being late. i know i promised you i would be on time” he tried, but your mind wasn't there anymore. you weren't annoyed anymore. you were just with an unmistakable heat pooling on your stomach and your gaze followed his ab lines like a predator. the fact that he was late didn't matter whatsoever. not now.

“this is not what you should be worried about now, hoon”

“oh god. what have i done?”

“you wouldn't know. just come and fix it.”

sunghoon snapped. one second he was staring blankly at you, trying to follow your mind, and the other one he was dropping his bag, moving hurriedly to be all over you. his eyes darkened instantly, and you felt your stomach twist when you stood up from the couch and his sweaty, firm hands found your waist, pulling you closer. inch by inch pressed against his skin. air between you seeming almost shared.

“is this your definition of ‘fixing it’, sweetheart?”

you hummed, agreeing. “it did involve something like this”

he smirked, gaze dropping to your mouth. you were sure he'd try to postpone it, to edge you, but he started it, and now he'd have to cope. you leaned in, lifting your chin and tiptoeing to kiss him. and it was the type of kiss that had your mind spiraling, the ones that even the tip of your toes curled with the soft encounter of your lips followed by the mind-blowing passage of his tongue inside your mouth.

sure, he was a bit surprised by your sudden courage, he could give you this one, but it was nothing that would lead him to lose control. sunghoon always had a way to silently remember you that he was in charge, and right now? it was the way his grip on you tightened as he dropped to the couch, forcing you to sit on top of him, legs holding on to his waist for dear life.

you breathlessly gasped, startled, your fingers instantly hooking on the collar of his black tank top to keep you steady, grounded to his heat.

the touch of your tongues started off as soft, like a coordinated dance both of you were dancing, but it soon built up to something rougher, warmer, with desire dripping from your mouths.

but when he tilted his head slightly and bit your bottom — and already swollen — lip?

you completely lost it.

and worse, fully moaned into his mouth, the sound coming out of your throat strained, hoarse.

“oh doll, look at you, already turned on?” he darkly chuckled, breaking the kiss and lipping his own bottom lip now, as if trying to collect every single trail of yourself you could've let on him.

sunghoon didn't wait for your answer, and before you knew it, he leaned in to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck and collarbone, sliding your beige shirt to the side to give him more access to your skin.

he nibbled on your sensitive skin, leaving red marks behind like he was worshipping something sacred. his hands touched you almost everywhere, mostly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. you readily tilted your head, allowing him to do everything and panting softly as the cherry on top.

despite your whines, he was patient, taking his time to suck on your neck and sliding to your shoulder with caution. when the fabric started to get on his way, his long fingers found the hem of your shirt as he gently took it off.

his gaze dropped on you as if he was food deprived, flying pecks returning to flood your skin and leave your head dazed. when you whimpered again, he finally gave in, quickly unbuttoning your bra with the ability of who'd done this thousands of times, cupping your tits carefully like they were precious.

“you look so fucking gorgeous it's killing me. my god—” your nipples hardened and he smirked, visibly satisfied. when his tongue finally found them, you squirmed on top of him, the sudden acknowledgement of his bulge forming under you now both overwhelming and pleasuring.

“hoon, don't tease—”

“don't be so eager, sweetheart. even though you look beautiful begging, this is just the start and you're already acting all slutty” he bit one of your nipples harder only to watch you tremble, the degrading tone laced in his hoarse tone.

your fingers found his scalp, holding on to it firmly and gripping it when he sucked on a certain spot that made you go dumb. your whines turned into moans, sinful sounds leaving your throat beautifully, the noise finding his ears like music.

your hips rolled, trying to find friction between your bodies. because you were not in the mood of holding back, and when his bulge teased you so good? there was no point in pretending.

“holy shit— keep going like that.” he momentarily stopped his mouth, and you swore the face he made was unreal. eyebrows furrowed, eyes fluttering closed, biting bottom lip, trying to keep himself still.

you kept going, sometimes bouncing on his lap. soon, your arousal couted his black leggings and a wet spot could be seen. you shut your eyes, the fabric keeping you from coming undone but at the same time leaving you overwhelmed, the pleasure building up.

“you really couldn't wait, could ya? so fucking desperate.” his grip on your waist tightened, signalling you to stop, to stay still. despite your own desires, you did exactly as you were said, and sunghoon quickly took off your shorts and pantie and layered his shorts and boxer just below his knees, not really caring about it. when you took a glance of his face, he was flustered, that one concentrated face you were crazy about getting even redder when his tip teased your hole and you fully bounced on it, sitting up on him.

his hardened dick had already filled spots that made you see stars when you started to move your hips under his control, the action now feeling way more intimate and way better.

“always so tight around me— shit, keep bouncing.” and oh you did. you alternated between bouncing, grinding and riding, your hips moving senselessly as your breathing came out short, uneven. the moans that left your mouth filled the living room and the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin became louder when he bottomed out, thrusting on you from below.

your thighs burned, but the desire was bigger, the pleasure was better. soon, you felt your legs sore, muscles almost screaming — but not as loud as you did, of course — sunghoon noticed immediately, and he became rougher, grip tight to tell you that you only had to stay still.

his thrusts were deliberate, hitting your g-spot every single time, aligning perfectly with the way your hips rolled. he groaned — guttural, loud, rough. — signaling that he was close, or that you were close, you didn't really know. however, when your nails began to scratch him and your hips faltered, he understood perfectly what it meant without saying a single word. because there was no need to, obviously.

he leaned in to suck against your neck one more time, his kisses now slower, savoring your skin like a whole meal. his thrusts lost a bit of its pace, and when he came, he announced it with a lewd, raw sound, gripping the curve of your hips like it was something he wanted to destroy. to ruin completely

because he fills you up all at once, burying himself inside you in one smooth, deep thrust, stretching you open, pressing so much you swear you feel him in your stomach. “filling you up so good. feel full don't you?”

“shit, hoon— s’ full” you cried, your cum mixing with him as you released. you buried your head on the crook of his neck and he got the cue to fuck you through all of it, leaving you empty and filling you up simultaneously. the scent of him filling up your nostrils as your mind blanked deliciously.

you bit his skin as if felt too much, and both of you didn't move for a second, your breathing irregular, the smell of sex filling the room.

when he did say something, it felt more like a confession from how low it was, despite the dirty words that would leave his mind. “you don't think we're over, right? you asked for it. take it.”

“fuck, hoon, ngh— shouldn't you be tired from gym?”

“not at all. i workout in order to keep up with you, horny girl”

and you knew that would be a very, very long night.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ "You Can Have My Last Name" — Zaunites x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I'm pretty sure this idea is like. Everywhere by now. But people from Zaun/the Undercity don't really have surnames so plot is basically what if Reader offered up theirs. Simple and cute type stuff idk I wanted some fluff

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Viktor

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mentioned the nature of his lack of a surname rather casually, while venting about how Piltover kept trying to say his paperwork was 'invalid' for lacking one. He explained to you that it was common for anyone in the Undercity, and that most from there didn't have one at all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More confused than anything when you offer yours, or he at least pretends to be. The truth is the idea flustered him coming from you so casually, so to cope he acted like he didn't know what you were implying

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Thinks about it for several weeks afterwards, subconsciously mulls over how your name would sound paired with his in his mind. He writes it down a few times too, just to test it out. Finds out pretty quickly that he likes the sound of it

Vi

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't miss the implications a bit, as a matter of fact she IMMEDIATELY flirts back by asking if you'd really give your precious name to any pretty face you come across

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Teases you about the idea relentlessly any time the subject of names is brought up, or in any way she can really. Often makes jokes that she's gonna make a fool out of the name

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly actually very honored that you'd offer it up to her but she doesn't feel like admitting that yet, you're gonna have to deal with jokey teasing for a good while first

Jinx

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Snarkily says she wouldn't be a good fit for your name to hide the fact that she really doesn't think she deserves to be considered a part of your life

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ohh, you might be crazy too if you're gonna give it to someone like me"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels kinda bad that she wouldn't have anything like that to offer you in return. She loves the idea of having a family to belong to again, but her own self doubt gets in the way of admitting that to herself

Ekko

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh- uh- what??"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genuinely very caught off guard. Not at all in a bad way, he just doesn't know how to respond to such a sudden and blatant flirt. Quickly tries to think of something to say as you're chuckling and reassuring him it's okay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He ends up telling you through his fluster that it's not really gonna bring you any good to proudly announce a Zaunite as part of your family name. But in the end, he gives you a soft smile and says it's a nice thought he isn't against

Sevika

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Is that so?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More keen on the idea than you'd might think- tells you it wouldn't be such a bad idea, but you'd have to prove it's a name worth adopting first, teasingly daring you to make it a name you'd both be proud to wear

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Tells you to reconsider once or twice, but mostly because she loves seeing how determined you get when defending her right to bear your name

Silco

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't pick up on what you're implying at first at all, simply tells you that isn't how that works and you're talking nonsense

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to prod into the implications a little more to get him to finally register what you're actually trying to say. It takes him a moment, but when he catches on he falls silent for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ends up mildly tripping over his words while telling you he's not really someone to give such an important thing to, and that you should get a better head on your shoulders and keep focused (largely to hide the fact that the offer genuinely caught him off guard. He's never gonna stop thinking about it)

Vander

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Actually not against the idea. Seems to chuckle it off at first, but once he realizes you're being serious he fondly mulls over the idea with you while cleaning up for the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Recognizes the idea might not be very feasible, but hey, what's wrong with having hope? Everyone's allowed to have dreams to chase, right? No harm in chasing this one together, then

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Promises that once things are settled down enough that he'll try to make it happen with you. As long as the kids he takes in are all alright with you, of course

[hxney-lemcn]

Should I Stay or Should I go? — Housewardens x gn! reader

summery: you have the option to stay in Twisted Wonderland or to go to your home world...which would you choose?

tw: angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms

wc: 3.3k

Master List

join my twst wonderland discord server!

You stare in shock as Crowley pats himself on his back, chuckling to himself about how generous he was. He had finally found you a way home. Something you weren’t sure you even wanted anymore, but what other choice did you have? It’s not like you could stay…right?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Riddle Rosehearts

“I see,” Riddle hums, trying to not let his voice shake. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, you had been searching for a way home this entire time, your leave was bound to happen. But gosh did it feel like his heart was tearing itself apart at the moment. He had secretly hoped that there wasn’t a way for you to go back, as shameful as that was. You had completely changed his life, and he had hoped that you would continue to be by his side, but the choice was yours. It was your life, and he would support you no matter what.

You Leave

Riddle almost didn’t even show to say goodbye to you, but he couldn’t let you leave on bad terms. He felt his heart shatter as you disappeared through the mirror, never to see you again. He felt angry at first, seething about how selfish you were to leave him, how angry he was to allow himself to get so attached to someone who was never going to stay. Riddle nearly became a tyrant again, taking his anger out on those around him, Trey barely keeping him in check. 

Then, his anger simmered into sadness. Why had you left? Was this world really so bad? Was he not enough? Of course, the person who teaches him it's okay to not be perfect doesn’t hesitate to leave him. His change is obvious, he had become so happy with you around, and now that you were gone he had dulled exponentially. He will move on eventually, but in the meantime he finds himself writing you letters, wishing you were around to help him in these hard times.

You Stay

“A-are you sure?” Riddle couldn’t help but stutter when you first told him. Ever since you told him Crowley found you a way home, he had been preparing to see you disappear. To live a life without you in it. So when you told him you wanted to stay he found his heart jumping for joy, unsure if he should get his hopes up. Did you really, truely want to stay? To leave all your old friends and family behind? Have you thought this through enough?

“Yes,” You stated firmly, determination clear in your eyes. “I want to stay.” 

Riddle does whatever he can to help you with your transition. Do you need to file paperwork to become a citizen? Of course, where do you wish to live? He’ll give you the appropriate paperwork and even help you fill it out and send it to the correct offices. Riddle will also spend more time with you, he had clearly taken your presence for granted, and he’d be damned if he did so again. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision of staying, and he hopes you choose to keep him by your side.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Leona Kingscholar

Leona glowered at you, snarling out, “Why do I care?” His tail flicked about irritably, the pain in his chest instantly turning into anger. “Just leave for all I care.” Why did he keep talking? He was making things worse, but pushing people away was his defense mechanism, and he wasn’t gonna let you know how much he actually cared. How much he wished you would stay, how he wished he wouldn’t come second once more. All he could do was try to ignore the impending doom he felt in his heart, ignore the fact that perhaps he was just as alone as he thought.

You Leave

Leona didn’t bother to say goodbye. Lying in his bed, trying to ignore the fact that you were leaving for good at this very moment. Ruggie had tried to get him to go, but was only met with snarls and swiping claws. Leona was livid at the thought of you. Who the hell did you think you were to play with his feelings like that? You were a good for nothing pompous asshole like the rest of them, preaching about being better and leaving like a selfish jerk. 

…so why did he miss you so much?

He felt like a complete fool, longing for the time you were still around. Wishing you’d somehow find your way back into his arms. But he knew better, he wasn’t that naive. You were gone for good. Decided that he wasn’t as important to you as he thought. Leona had become more irritable than before if possible, sleeping the days away as it had become harder for him to get up. He’ll never admit how much you mean to him, not even when it’s been years since you left.

You Stay

Leona looked at you like you were stupid, ear twitched and tail swaying. He couldn’t deny how giddy he felt seeing you enter his room instead, his tail giving away his true emotions. Leona couldn’t help but smirk smugly, eyes glinting with pride.

“Of course you’d stay,” He gloated. “You’d be stupid to leave.”

As a prince to the royal family of Sunset Savanna, he can wave his hand and you’re a citizen, no need to worry your pretty little head about any of that. You need a job? He’ll hire you…to be his personal pillow. Yeah, his favoritism is showing, he’s just so glad that you stayed. He finds himself folding for you a bit more, wanting to prove that you made the right choice. Leona also becomes more clingy. You had managed to scare him (a feat no one’s done before), and he didn’t like it one bit. So he makes sure it won’t happen again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Azul Ashengrotto

No. No no no no this can’t be happening. You can’t be leaving him. Was he not good enough? Were you not happy? How could he convince you to stay? Perhaps he could make a contract that would force you to stay…no. He promised you he wouldn’t, but he was actively witnessing his control slipping through his fingers, the person he cared dearly for threatening to leave. Azul loved you so greatly, was it not enough? He was spirling, terribly. He’s selfish, and it shows in the way he tries to convince you to stay, free dinners and exploring only the best parts of Twisted Wonderland. He could only hope that he managed to show you why you should stay.

You Leave

Azul feels his heart beat out of his chest as you smiled sadly at all your friends. Watching in pure terror as you waved goodbye.

“Please don’t go,” He pleaded, falling to his knees and grabbing your hands. He was making it worse. He knew he was. Groveling at your feet like a fool, tears falling down his cheeks. Your apology rings empty as you untangle from his grasp and step through the mirror. Azul will never forget that moment, the moment you tore his heart to shreds. That moment would forever haunt him. Azul finds himself slowly receding back to how he used to be. You had seen a side of him no one else had, which had opened him up to you, but you were gone now.

By the seven, he hated how much he loved you. Are you happy now? Have you found yourself in the arms of someone else? Someone better? Azul was inconsolable, finding comfort in bad habits, swindling people for power once more. He knew it was wrong, knew it wouldn’t end well, but what else did he have? No one else would care for him the way you did.

You Stay

“I-I can’t go back,” You stuttered, pulling away from the mirror. There was a collective sigh of relief from your friends. Azul found himself nearly buckling at the way you turned to look at him. He didn’t even realize he was crying until you wiped his tears away, pulling him into a hug. He couldn’t stop thanking you, holding you tightly like you’d vanish…you nearly had after all. You think his pampering before your decision was bad? Now he’s going all out, treating you like the royalty you were. Jewelry, the finest cooked meals, you ask for it and it’s yours. 

It’s like your choice has strengthened his devotion to you. You had chosen him over your old life, your old world. What more could he want? He’s planning your wedding as we speak. To get married you need to be a citizen? Done. Are you kidding? He’s got the tweels to dig up dirt on many officials, would you expect any less from him? Azul’s love for you feels like a never ending black hole, a chasm that will never run out. He finds himself wondering if you feel the same. You had stayed, after all.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is the ultimate supporter. Cheering on whatever decision you make. Don’t get me wrong, he’s disheartened at the thought of you leaving, but he doesn’t want to influence your decision. You were one of the few people that Kalim could whole-heartedly trust,so he decides to throw party after party. His own way of distracting himself from the terrible feeling in his heart. Perhaps…he allows himself to hope that you’ll change your mind. That you’ll realize how much you’ll miss this world, miss magic, miss him…

You Leave

Kalim can feel his smile try to break, but he refuses to let you go unsure. Kalim isn’t used to things not going his way, not that he doesn’t respect you, it’s just that the whole situation feels…off. Like this is all a bad dream and he’ll wake up and you’re still there. But unfortunately, this is reality, and the last time Kalim sees you is when you turn and enter the mirror. Days pass, and Kalim finds himself thinking about you. You always liked having meals with him and Jamil, you liked going on magic carpet rides. He finds himself buying things he’d think you’d like only to remember you’re not here to receive them anymore, keeping all the items in a storage room, just in case you come back.

Thinking about you is like a warm fuzzy day. Kalim misses you, but he’s content. He hopes you're happy, living your best life. He continues to cherish your memories as he grows older, still thinking of you as a dear friend. There’s still a tiny spark of hope that maybe he’ll see you again, that you both could catch up…but he knows that’s a foolish notion. 

You Stay

Kalim couldn’t help but cheer when you staggered away from the mirror, not hesitating to pull you into a hug. 

“We should celebrate!” Kalim exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Jamil will cook your favorite foods! And we can dance and sing until our feet and throats are sore!” 

Like Azul, Kalim finds himself buying you more things and pampering you. Can you blame him? He’s just so happy you stayed! You need citizenship? He doesn’t know much about the process, but he’s got you covered (sorry Jamil). Kalim gets clinger if possible, always wanting to be holding you. He can’t help but wonder what his life would be like without you, and he’s not sure he’d ever want to experience that. You have become a crucial part of his life in a short span of time, and he hopes you continue to choose to stay with him. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Vil Schoenheit

There was a mix of emotions when you told him. Most negative. His gaze sharpened, scrutinizing on how you felt about this situation, one feeling seemed the most prominent. You were unsure. Vil had to admit, he grew used to your presence, longing for it, strangely. He cared for you so much that he found himself taking a step back. This was your decision, and he respected that. As much as he wanted you to stay, he wouldn’t deny you your freedom of choice. Though Vil has to admit…he selfishly wanted you to stay because of him.

You Leave

Of course. He should’ve expected nothing less. You had confided in your desires to go home, he wasn’t sure why he deluded himself to believe you wouldn’t go. To think you would choose him as your top priority. Vil watches with a hint of disdain as you vanish so easily from his life. No, that’s not completely true. There are still hints of your presence in the items you left in his room, the items you left in Ramshackle, the memories inked into his mind.

Still, life had to continue. Vil had no time to stew in his hurt feelings as he had a job to do. He couldn’t let your parting smear his image, he had to stay on top of himself. No slacking allowed. In enough time, Vil won’t feel as hurt, instead grateful for the time you spent with him and accept that if this was what made you happier than so be it. The last thing Vil wished was to hold you back from your full potential, and if this is what you wished, who was he to deny you?

You Stay

A flash of smugness overcame him before his fondness took over. Vil doesn’t hesitate to usher you away from the mirror chamber, feeling his heart finally settle its anxious state. He had never been so scared of losing something, not even when he had lost the VDC. Losing that had made him angry beyond belief, losing you? That would’ve hurt him in ways he didn’t want to think about.

Where does he take you the next day? Well the spa of course. You must have been so stressed these past few days, so what better than to help you relax now that the decision is over? Will pamper you like no other for the next few days. Citizenship? Don’t worry, he’s got his lawyers handling it. What did he say about worrying? He doesn’t want you to get any more fatigued than you already are. Don’t worry darling, he’s got everything handled. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Idia Shroud

Instant panic. Locks himself in his room for a while, trying to wrap his mind around losing another person he dearly cares about. Doesn’t even let Ortho in, effectively isolating himself. Once he calms down just a bit, he tries desperately to convince you to stay. Why would you want to leave? This world has magic, and you never even talked about your world, so therefore it must suck. Idia grasps for straws, hoping that something will stick and you’ll decide to stay. 

You Leave

Idia, like Leona, locks himself in his room the day you leave. Doesn’t even use his tablet to give you a farewell. No, that’s much too painful for him to even think about. Immediately goes to his first coping mechanism, creating a human-like android. Refuses to leave his room for any reason while he creates a copy of you, but no matter how hard he tries, he seems to fail at replicating your likeness. Why do your eyes look so lifeless when you smile? That’s not right. Similar to Ortho, your android's eyes are covered, Idia not able to come to terms with your absence. 

It’s honestly sad how Idia finds himself constantly tweaking at your cpu. You say you like the wrong thing and he just has to fix it because otherwise this isn’t you and he needs you. He can’t accept the fact that you left him willingly. You loved him, didn’t you? Why did you leave him? Even your android couldn’t fully console him as it ran its mechanical hands through his hair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried his best to imagine it was really you who was whispering sweet nothings to him.

You Stay

You don’t even make it to the mirror room, instead knocking on Idia’s door rapidly. Ortho quickly ushers you in, rushing you towards Idia who is laying on his bed with the blankets pulled over his head. 

“Leave me alone,” Idia groans out, pushing further into his blankets. 

“Idia…” You murmured, causing him to nearly cry out. He couldn’t believe you were here instead of going back to your world, and when you say you're going to stay? He’s sobbing into your neck and holding you like you were going to disappear. Now Idia gets anxious about you leaving, finding himself buying you random merch from games and series you like, hoping you never change your mind. He needs a lot of reassurance. When you state your worry about being able to live in Twisted Wonderland since you technically weren’t a citizen. Pshh, that’s what you’re worried about? You do know he works for an ultra security company, right? He can give you clearance to whatever you wish.

Idia’s just so, so, so happy that you choose him, something he still can’t believe is real. That you’re still by his side for the foreseeable future.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Malleus Draconia

Thunder rumbles in the distance as rain starts to pour. Even though the weather gives away his true feelings, Malleus gives you a strained smile. He had come to cherish you with his whole being, and it hurt to know that you were going to leave, but he wouldn’t let his selfishness get the best of him. You deserved to go home, and if that was your old world, then so be it. Just please allow him to spend these last moments by your side. He wishes to make your last moments in Twisted Wonderland truly magical.

You Leave

The wind whips wildly outside, rain hurling towards the ground as you wave goodbye to your friends. The weather reflected the frowns on your friends' faces, not to mention Malleus who approached you, bowing his head and planting a loving kiss to the back of your hand.

“I shall cherish you forever, my dear child of man.” 

You had nearly started crying, but you held strong, entering the mirror and returning to your world. Malleus was unsure of what to do after you left, finding himself lost. He’d appear in front of Ramshackle, wishing that you’d come walking out of the front door and greet him with your lovely smile. Instead, the crickets chirped, the dorm you had claimed as your own oddly silent.

Hints of you still existed. Little trinkets you had forgotten in his room, consuming foods that were your favorite, finding jewelry and clothing he’d think you’d like. You were a bittersweet memory that he wishes he had more time to experience. He wishes you well, wherever you are.

You Stay

The harsh winds and thundering rain slowed before disappearing altogether, leaving the sun to shine brightly on the now wet infrastructure. Malleus watched with wide eyes as you grasped his hand, pulling away from the mirror. 

“I think I’d rather stay.”

That was all you needed to say for Malleus to send you a blinding smile, kissing the back of your hand. He hadn’t felt this exhilarated in a long, long time, wishing to celebrate your stay with a grand feast. Perhaps a ball? Briar Valley hasn’t had one of those in a while. Or perhaps you’d like to celebrate by shopping? Whatever you wish and it’s yours. You’d just like to spend the night? Why of course, child of man, he would be delighted to have you by his side. You don’t even have to question anything about citizenship, you were already seen as a resident of Briar Valley and Malleus was the prince, he could do what he wanted in this regard. 

In fact, Malleus couldn’t seem to stop smiling, feeling rejuvenated every time he saw your figure in the distance. Nothing could beat the joy of seeing you for another day, spending time by your side and listening to your rants. He wouldn’t change it for the world, and he’s glad you wouldn’t either.

[hurtspideyparker]

Tony doesn't tell the Avengers about Peter's secret identity, but Peter starts coming over constantly and chilling around the tower, helping Tony in his workshop or eating dinner with everyone.

Since Tony is weirdly secretive about who the kid is, and the fact that Spider-Man is still a small unknown (presumably adult) hero who isn't on any Avengers radars, they all collectively come to the conclusion that he's Tony's illegitimate child.

Bruce: They do have the same eyes...

Steve: This is an inappropriate conversation to have. If Tony doesn't want to tell us then we shouldn't pry

Natasha: Tony doesn't even like kids. There's no way he would tolerate one if it wasn't because of his guilt complex. I'm surprised there isn't more little Starks running around considering his previous lifestyle

Clint: *cough* drunk slut *cough*. Oh excuse my throat, I meant to say he was a drunk slut

Natasha: Steve they're the exact same. Talk too much, too fast, genius brains that go right over our heads, stubborn, like to cope with humor, same body language. They'll have the same smile lines when Peter grows into them. The only difference is that Peter was raised with manners

Steve: I'm not saying I don't agree, I'm saying it's none of our business. Anyone with basic observational skills can tell they're desperate to fill father and son roles in each others' lives, but Tony's really weird about it, so we should let him keep it private

Clint: We probably make him nervous

Bruce: Because he thinks he's a bad dad?

Natasha: I think he's kinda good at it. Which is extremely unnerving

Steve: Honestly out of all of us I had bets on Bruce having a secret wife and kids hidden somewhere. Tony stepping up to be a father was lower on my list than Nat

Natasha: You have a list?

Bruce: You think I pull?

Steve: That's irrelevant. I think it's nice that they're so close already, but we don't need to press. It might mess up a good thing

Clint: Wait can we go back to this list business. Are these like pragmatic, military leader lists, or are these for pleasure? What other kinds of lists do you have? What about which one of us is most likely to turn on you. Or what you'd turn for. Oh! What about a list of all our weak points based on accessibility and intensity, with contingency plans in case of defection or aliens or brainwashing or alien brainwashing causing defection

Steve:

Natasha:

Bruce:

Steve: This is why Tony won't share his personal life with us.

They last another week before Clint, Natasha, and Bruce team up to steal a strand of Peter's hair and test it for paternity. Steve knows something is up, and follows Clint to Bruce's lab.

Steve: What are you doing...

Natasha: Admit it, you know exactly what we're doing and you want to see the results

Steve: I... well if you already have them there's no point keeping it from me

Clint: Tony Stark is not the daddy!

Tony: Which of my exes have you been talking to?

Clint: AH oh hey Tony didn't see you there

Steve: I'm not apart of this

Tony: Is this about Peter? He told me something plucked his head when he was walking down here. Which of you murder twins was hiding in the rafters

Natasha: Y'know he's not your kid, whoever told you he was lied to you and I hope you get your child support back

Tony: My kid? He's my intern. What funky kool-aid have you all been drinking, that boy is sorting my tool drawer right now. He has slightly better dexterity than Dum-E, it's been quite helpful

Bruce: You have really poor professional boundaries if he's just an intern

Tony: Okay fine. He's actually Spider-Man. I didn't wanna tell anyone cause the Accords were still fishy, but everything should be good now. Anyways, he really wants to train with you guys so you'd have to know eventually

Clint: Who the hell is Spider-Man?

Steve: That guy in Queens who helps bring in peoples' groceries?

Tony: Well, yeah—listen, he's like 14 and he just got his powers. I'm not exactly sending him to fight armed terrorists yet. He'll grow into it, but trust me, there's potential. I'm kind of like his mentor

Steve: You really don't need to do that

Bruce: Yeah we'll all help out from now on

Natasha: Don't take too much responsibility for the boy

Clint: Oh god what have you been teaching him?

Tony: Thanks for the vote of confidence guys. Whatever, now that you all know he'll be hounding you all day for advice anyways. Good luck with that. Friday tell Pete to come down here, the Avengers are gonna train with him

Tony leaves them all, snickering to himself as loud footsteps come crashing down the hallway. If they didn't know any better they'd say several elephants were tripping down the stairs. Then, the doors burst open, Peter's mouth already running a mile-a-minute.

Peter: Really, you guys know, you guys will teach me? Can I use the shield, Ms. Romanoff can you show me how to kick, show me with Mr. Barton, or, or Mr. Rogers. I can take down someone bigger than me, I'm actually really strong. Wanna see? Why are we in Bruce's lab, is that my first lesson! Can I touch this? What are you making here, how long has this been distilling, what about my webs, have you ever seen my webs? I did them myself, but I bet we could make them even better, watch out it's really sticky—

Steve ends up with webs all over his face, several of Bruce's beakers broken from the white spray, one reacting poorly with it and exploding all over Clint and Natasha. Bruce immediately shoves them into the decontamination shower, leaving them as two drenched rats wearing skin-tight combat gear. Natasha is already fuming at the thought of trying to peel it off.

Peter: I'm really sorry, I didn't know it was on ricochet... the splitter webs were just 'cause I panicked

Steve: This is why I told you all to leave it be.

"Noted," they all say in unison.

[medusaesque]

Kim's itchy trigger finger

So, Kim reaches for his gun often. Very often. sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons- opening the bear fridge, the experiment in the church, a note from Klaasje.

This one is just from being anxious going into the communist reading group. Kim doesn't want to be the kind of cop who draws his gun constantly, who shoots instinctively, but he is, or at the very least it's very difficult for him to stop himself from becoming one.

Perhaps the most horrifying example is with The Pigs-

Even if he KNOWS the gun isn't loaded, even if he knows it's safe, the instinctual muscle twitch could have ended in an unnecessary death. Kim is very well aware of that fact, and it's horrifying to him. @shufflerock-jam has this really good post about it, where they wonder how many of Kim's kills were unnecessary. "Something about a pair of traumatized cops, one fighting against shooting himself and one fighting against shooting everyone else".

At the end of The Pigs exchange, if Harry says she tried to kill him, Kim begins to interject, but stops himself and agree this situation could've been very bad. Then Empathy chimes in- 'He's trying not to think about how bad it could have been had the gun been loaded.' Which is the heart of the issue, right? that leads us to Eyes-

This is such a fascinating background to give Kim as a character- not just losing his partner, which gives him the trauma and survivor's guilt that lead to this unhealthy relationship with his gun and frankly with death in general, but losing his Eyes, and having that not interfere with his shooting. Kim doesn't need to see well to hit, he doesn't need to think. It's all in his hands, a reflex. A reflex that nearly took an innocent life. That might have taken one before.

His awareness of looming danger, to him and to his partner, is fueling his version of Hand/Eye Coordination to have him constantly on edge, his whole body is like a loaded spring, always prepared to make sure it doesn't happen again. Then it does-

In his nightmare scenario, leaning over his partner's bleeding body, Kim only needs one word to shoot without a second's hesitation. He's never not ready to take that shot. He doesn't need his Eyes.

Harry is distraught to discover he's killed before- his body remembers it. He wants a drink to soften the feeling. Kim however is impressed with how little he's killed- especially coming from the bloody murder unit. He wants to be 'one of the good ones' (Kim's adamant belief in the possibility of a Good Cop is a whole other can of worms) the kind of cop he would think highly of. Kim is disgusted by cops who kill like it's a game. Espirit gives us a vision of a cop exactly like that, who kills so often it doesn't feel like anything anymore. In a way that is completely mechanical- no thought, no feelings, just a thing your body does. Not unlike the way Kim shoots- like a spring unloaded. Kim has 6 confirmed kills before the tribunal, double the amount Harry has. He doesn't react the same way though-

It's doesn't bother Kim that he has killed, even if he declines to elaborate on it, and he seems to frown upon (or worry about) Harry's destructive coping mechanism. If they're unable to save Ruby, he says "Control your emotions. We did our job. This won't be the worst thing that happens on this case… believe me. You can't let this break you." When you wake up after the tribunal, he doesn't dwell on the lost lives on either side. Harry's skills call him a killer, a bloodstained killer, but when he tells Kim he also killed he simply nods. He's smoking though. I'm not saying that Kim is heartless or careless, he's rattled by nearly blowing The Pigs' head off, very sorry for the lives lost during the case, and clearly hunted by death, having been surrounded by it for his entire life. But I do think death is a part of the job for him- not just possible civilian causalities, but his own potential death. He speaks plainly about how he might die in the lie of duty, and he narrowly avoided it more than once, with others dying in his place..

He walked into the line of fire with harry expecting for of them to die, and his quick fingers on the trigger made it so they lived another day. Even if more ghost joined the list that hunts him in his sleep, he is alive. He goes on. He can't afford to fix this habit, as much as he wants to.

So it's so horrible and so touching that when Dros asks "What have you done?" Kim says-

It's a tragedy, really. A wartime orphan who wanted to be a revolutionary pilot and played with Franconigerian knights, who grew up to be a cop, a job that slowly shapes his body into a killing machine. And when you ask what he does, what you both do, he says keep people alive.

[moonstruckme]

oh my gosh ¹⁴⁾ trying to cope with a fever during a heatwave with poly wolfstar sounds like the ultimate summer comfort fic 💕 remus would be so good at taking care of u, and sirius would be soooo dramatic in solidarity 💖🌸

Thanks lovely <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 713 words

Remus comes home from work to find your flat a cave. There are signs of life in the living room, displaced pillows and a blanket looking cast aside, but your home is eerily silent. He discovers the cause in your bedroom: you and Sirius, looking like you never left bed in the first place. 

Every curtain is pulled shut, but some daylight prevails, casting the two of you in shades of grey where you lay in your pajamas atop the bedsheets. You’re spread out in every direction, clearly asleep, whereas Sirius seems to be occupying himself simply with looking at you. He glances up as Remus enters. 

“Hi,” Remus whispers. “When did you get home?” 

“Never left,” Sirius replies softly. He nods to you, taking a piece of your hair idly between his fingers. “She’s sick.” 

A quiet, doting, oh drops from Remus’ lips. He sets down his bag and comes to the edge of the bed. “With what? Since this morning?” 

Sirius nods as Remus eases himself onto the mattress beside you. There’s a flannel laid across your forehead. “She said she wasn’t feeling well when she woke up, just after you left. Seems like a cold or something. Wicked fever, though.” 

You shift a bit, their voices evidently causing you to rouse. Remus takes the opportunity to lift the flannel, lying the backs of his fingers across your brow. You are terribly warm. 

Your eyes open lazily. “Hey,” you mumble. 

Remus can’t help but smile. “Hi.” 

“Did you…” You stretch, groaning. “Is work done already? How was your day?” 

His chest aches with fondness. “It was good, sweetheart. What about you? You’re not feeling well?” 

Your lips pull down into a frown. Remus represses a cooish, pitying sound he knows you’ll hate. “My head hurts.” 

He tuts. “We’ll have to do something about that, then.” 

“We have,” Sirius chimes in. He sounds slightly offended. “Exhibit A: warm flannel.” 

“Right.” Remus leans over you to give him a kiss, conciliating. “Thank you, love. What about paracetamol?” 

Sirius hums proudly. “Had it.” 

“Perfect.” Remus takes the flannel from your head, smoothing away some damp baby hairs. “I think we’ll probably trade this out for a cooler one until our temperature comes down, alright?” 

Sirius frowns at this, but you sigh, shifting again like you’re trying to find a cool inch of bedspace. 

“I’m really hot,” you admit. 

“Aw, baby, we know.” Sirius takes your hand, kissing the back. “Good that you’re getting wise to it, though. We bemoan how hot you are all the time.” 

That coaxes a tired smile out of you. Remus has to imagine you really are sweltering. This time of day in the summer, your un-air-conditioned flat is usually at its warmest; it’ll take a few hours to cool off, and the effects are undoubtedly worse when you’re already suffering a fever. 

Remus feels along your face and the back of your neck contemplatively while Sirius coos at you. You seem in a strange enough mood to indulge him, the two of you going back and forth in low, murmuring tones. Remus knows his hands aren’t cold, but you act as though they are. You sigh quietly each time he moves his touch to a new place. 

“How would you feel about having a cold bath?” he asks after a while. 

You look up at him, your eyebrows raised slightly. “That actually sounds kind of nice.” 

Sirius hisses through his teeth. “Yikes, babe. That’s how you know it’s really bad.” 

Remus hides a smile. “Maybe Sirius will even get in there with you, yeah? Would that be nice?” 

“Oh.” You’re well aware of Remus’ game, but you play along, turning your eyes up to your other boyfriend sweetly. “That would be really nice. Would you, please?” 

Sirius’ eyes narrow. “You’re both terribly, undeservedly cruel to me,” he says, looking between you. “But if it’ll actually make you feel better, I’ll do it.” 

“Awe.” Your lips stretch into a syrupy smile as you roll over, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “That’s so sweet. Thank you, baby.” 

Sirius pats your back, a smug uptilt to his mouth. “Yeah, well, I’m a giver.” But after a moment his brows furrow, the smirk slipping. “Does this mean you do want me to?”

[honeytonedhottie]

how to embrace being alone⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✍🏽🎀

learning to be alone is such a crucial thing to learn at all times during your life, but especially during your youth. and something to understand is that sometimes, protecting your peace comes at the cost of being alone but being alone is peaceful! and not as bad as you might think that it is.

being alone offers an opportunity for self discovery and growth and rest and relaxation and reflection and the list goes ON. being able to enjoy your own company is a SUPER power bcuz it genuinely nourishes you so much.

ENJOYING UR OWN COMPANY ;

you dont have to be codependent on someone else to make yourself happy or to make yourself feel good. what fulfills you and nourishes you isnt the relationships that u have with others. although that is an amazing and fulfilling thing, the most fulfilling thing is learning yourself. being alone REPLENISHES you, its like, hydration for the soul.

dont wait on someone else to do something that you wanna do!! if u dont have anyone to go with, just go on your own. you dont have to wait on others to be happy…💬🎀

PRACTICE BEING ALONE ;

go on solo dates, practice planning to do something fun and just doing it by yourself. once you start doing things alone and you see how nice it feels, you'll want to do it more bcuz its so easy to enjoy your own company, you just have to get over your fear of judgement or of being alone and learn to enjoy and embrace it.

♡ have a spa day

♡ learn to cook a new dish

♡ read a book

♡ have a journalling session

♡ schedule appointments for urself

♡ go on a long drive

SOME BENEFITS OF ENJOYING UR OWN COMPANY ;

♡ u can be urself without filter

♡ less distractions and u give urself time to ponder and look internally

♡ ur in control of ur space and time

♡ u can be creative and imaginative without reference

♡ its peaceful

BEING UR OWN BESTFRIEND ;

treat yourself how you'd treat someone that you valued a lot. be compassionate and understanding and respectful. dont talk badly about yourself and dont be mean to/punish yourself bcuz u wouldn't do that to someone that u loved and cherished…💬🎀

dont abandon yourself in times where life can become stressful. focus on being present and dont forget your worth. your self worth and value doesn’t come from how useful you are to others, your valuable simply because you are you. a human being who is deserving of love. your worth doesnt come from how productive you are or what you’ve achieved, instead your worth is already done and your valuable because of your existence. 

COPING WITHOUT FRIENDS ;

everything is temporary and meaningful relationships will always find their way to you. just understand that some ppl are here temporarily and some ppl are here for a lifetime but only you are here for all of it which is why its important to be alone and be comfy with that.

not everyone is gonna like you or wanna be your friend and thats okay. it has nothing to do with you and is almost always simply because of different personalities and its not personal

brush off rejections bcuz rejection is just redirection. when you dont take everything personally you'll notice how much happier you'll be overall.

know that the meaningful relationships and connections that u crave will come!! no one is here to be alone forever so you'll meet the people who pour into you and you'll meet ppl that u can pour into and you'll be okay!!

overall, enjoying your own company does wonders for your mental and physical health and its a useful skill to learn in general because it brings so much peace from being able to sit with your thoughts…💬🎀

[centaurianthropology]

Therapy for Thee but Not for Me: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms in ‘Murderbot’ (Thoughts on Episodes 1-3)

Having now watched the third episode of ‘Murderbot’, I came away with two impressions: the first is that this is a better show as a binge.  Maybe I’m too used to shows that are an hour long, but I feel like I’ve only just got sunk into an episode when it ends.  But with a binge, I can just move onto the next, and the emotional through-line feels more well-drawn.

Spoilers below the cut.

The second thing is that I think this was really the final wrap episode for the introduction.  We finally get an explanation for why PresAux is not only doing this survey, but aren’t willing to ditch it at the first sign of danger (honestly needed, if we’re going to flesh them and Preservation out further).  And I really like the explanation provided! The notion that there is a bit more dissent in Preservation than we’ve seen in the books is welcome.  Because of course there are some people there who are short-sighted, greedy, or simply ignorant enough to decide that the glamor and faux-prosperity of the Corporation Rim is more attractive than a planetary commune with constant resource struggles. Of course some people buy the propaganda and believe that the Corporation Rim is truly existing in a golden age that Preservation should be lucky to join. That happens in every society, no matter how well it’s doing. It is human nature to want what you don’t have, and to always want more. 

And it’s a great motivation to explain why Mensah and her friends go to this planet, and then stay there even in the face of danger. It both establishes stakes and establishes this group as true believers in Preservation ideals.   They are the most dedicated to the Preservation way of life, whether they were raised in that environment or are a recent convert. 

We also get a little more time with a few underserved characters, particularly Ratthi and Bharadwaj, while elaborating on characters with more onscreen time like Mensah and Gurathin.  I’d still like to spend more time with Pin-Lee and Arada, but I feel like that’s coming soon enough.  I had thought the plot would really kick off in this episode, and in some ways it did (a whole lot of ‘All Systems Red’ was covered in this one episode, plot-wise), but it also felt like the last moment of early-static-state for these characters. 

And a huge part of that early static state is really hammering home how every character does (and doesn’t) deal with mounting stress.  This, like the books, is a show centering emotion.  In the books, it was almost exclusively Murderbot’s emotions, but here we see Murderbot as a part of a tapestry of emotion, one person amongst an ensemble it has not yet accepted that it’s a part of.  And as it has poor coping mechanisms, that just puts it in excellent company with this group of humans with fuck-awful coping mechanisms. 

So before we get into the meat of the action and, I suspect, meet our mystery additional character next episode (who I now suspect might be a ‘Company rep’ or something), I wanted to talk about the coping mechanisms (bad and good) everyone is rocking, and the arcs I suspect they’re setting up.

MURDERBOT: ESCAPISM

Let’s start with everyone’s favorite SecUnit.  Episode 3 really drove home how escapist and purposefully detached Murderbot is at this point in the story.  It is actively resisting caring or connection, wanting to escape every interaction or responsibility to sink into the comfort of its shows. 

Not surprisingly, and paralleling the book, this is setting up the arc of caring.  Next episode will probably feature Mensah saving it from the other SecUnit, and the shocking (for it) realization that she is willing to risk herself to save it.  This is the major turning point in their relationship, and in its understanding of people.  At this moment in episode 3, we are really seeing the last active resistance to this: it doesn’t think of itself as a person.  It doesn’t want to hear what Mensah has to say about her worries or her fears.   I know some people have seen this scene as trauma-dumping, but I didn’t read that at all into that scene.  Rather, I saw Mensah trying to make a connection.  She has decided that Gurathin is wrong: this SecUnit is a person, and it has emotions and thoughts and feelings.  And as she stares down the barrel of a very bad situation, she is trying to make it care.  She is reaching out, explaining her fears because she wants it to see her and her friends as people.  She wants it to understand why they can’t just back out, can’t turn tail at the first sign of danger.  She is trying to forge a connection.

And Murderbot isn’t there yet.  It’s avoidant, angrier in this episode than it was before, it’s on edge after both Ratthi and Gurathin seem convinced that it’s more than just an ordinary SecUnit.  It knows it’s not faking being an ordinary SecUnit well, and it wants out. 

And more than that, it is self-soothing the anger and the resentment and the fear that defines its existence at this point with its shows.  I think it’s interesting that, instead of ‘Sanctuary Moon’, this episode introduces us to a much grimmer show, ‘Strife in the Galaxy’, which explicitly shows constructs like SecUnit being tortured (although it points out that this doesn’t seem particularly realistic) and stressing their own struggles and individuality.  And it considers this an inferior show.  Why?  Because it cannot imagine doing that.  At this point it can’t imagine being as defiant as the (ComfortUnits??) constructs in the show.  It’ll enjoy the unrealistic aspects of ‘Sanctuary Moon’, but I get the feeling that the unrealism of ‘Strife’ strikes a little too close to home to be good quality escape.

But it keeps watching.  Because if it keeps just burying itself in media, it never needs to care.  It never needs to feel deeper, more complicated, more dangerous emotions about real people who could be in real danger.  It can just … exist, comfortably numb, and bide its time.  For what?  Unclear, probably even to Murderbot. Carin will be thie thing that motivates it out of this static state, but that is terrifying, and it is resisting that with every single minute of entertainment it’s downloaded. 

DR. MENSAH and PROF. BHARADWAJ: AVOIDANCE

These two feel like parallel characters right now. They’re both older women, both feel a weight of responsibility, and both feel like they’re doing the same thing: pretend everything is fine, act strong when everyone else can see you (and rely on you), offer help wherever you can, fall apart only when you’re safely alone.

They tackle it differently.  Mensah is, to her team, the consummate professional.  We see her fears and doubts only through SecUnit’s spyware or because she’s chosen to talk to it late at night when everyone else is asleep.  And why did she choose that?

I’ve seen some people, as I mentioned, say that she was trauma dumping.  But I read this as an attempt to reach out to the only other person, in her mind, who was sort of in her same position.  Because they were both being relied on by everyone else.  Because if they faltered, everything could fall apart.  I read her talk with Murderbot as a way of expressing how much this mission actually means to all of them, why it matters, why it might even matter to their SecUnit, and I genuinely think she was hoping for it to share its own fears and struggles in return.  She wasn’t dumping; she was opening up in an incredibly vulnerable way to a person that at least one of her friends thinks is a potential spree killer.  But she looks at this person, and she sees someone in a similar position of responsibility, equally unable to share its frustrations and fears. Reaching out was a risk. She knows it’s spying on them. But she also believes that it is more that was it was built to be, so it was worth the risk to try to connect on a deeper level.

And it still can’t reach back.  She’s left wanting.  Like everyone elose in the episode, she fails at dealing with the stress well. She does the best of all of them, in my estimation, but she still fails, because at this point in the story they all need to fail. They all need a hole they can climb out of.

Bharadwaj certainly isn’t doing any better.  She, like Mensah, is holding it together by her fingernails.  But while Mensah has the leader persona she wraps around herself, Bharadwaj has jokes and energy and exuberance.  She has an indomitable spirit, right up until there’s no one to perform for.

And then she breaks down crying, and who wouldn’t?  She almost died.  She, of everyone, was the closest to just suddenly losing everything, and how do you process that?  How do you deal with the sudden and undeniable reality of your own mortality shoved so brutally in your face?  Of course she’s not dealing well.  And of course she, like Mensah—like everyone else who wants to be there for their friends and never let them know how much they themselves might need help in turn, like everyone else who is used to being the strong, steady, reliable, fun one—ends up hiding it.  And Gurathin stumbles into it, but he can barely process his own trauma, let alone anyone else’s.  He tries to reach out as best he can, and it’s not what she needs, and it fails them both.  There is a surprising level of tragedy underling this episode that creeps out slowly on viewing it again.  I really appreciate that, as on-the-nose as the writing can seem, this show is actually working at several different levels, and Bharadwaj trying and failing to deal with the sudden and immense trauma she’s experienced is one of them.

I think both Mensah and Bharadwaj are being set up for arcs of being able to accept help as well as give it. Mensah’s biggest struggle in the books is even admitting to those she loves that she’s not doing well mentally, and I think we’ll see echoes of that here. Bharadwaj ends up as more or less Murderbot’s therapist (while couching it in ‘making a documentary’), and while I’m not sure it’ll play out precisely in that format, I want to see them all connecting on that level. The human characters act as mirrors for Murderbot, and both Mensah and Bharadwaj are just as avoidant of their trauma as Murderbot is in its way, and just like it, they are going to fail to keep it all together. They are going to have to reach out, but that won’t be weakness. Acknowledging their needs, their fears, their broken parts to those they love will eventually help them mend those broken bits in ways they never could have managed alone.

DR. ARADA, PIN-LEE, AND DR. RATTHI: PHYSICAL COMFORT WHILE IGNORING THE EMOTIONS UNDERLYING EVERYTHING

It doesn’t surprise me that the ill-advised throuple is all about trying for physical comfort while ignoring the fact that this comfort is built on quicksand.  One thing this episode really nails is that this arrangement was built on shaky ground, and they can all feel it but none of them are directly discussing it. I feel like this relationship is serving as a metaphor for all their myriad issues of dependence, distrust, poor communication, and an inability to simply discuss contradictory needs.

Pin-Lee has been hiding innocuous things like their video game habits from their wife (likely because they think Arada wouldn’t approve of them playing violent video games).  Arada is trying to fill relationship troubles with a third person, hoping things work out better than the last time, all while clearly not addressing the root issues she and Pin-Lee are facing.  And Ratthi, forever happy to be here, is ignoring the fact that his presence in this arrangement is both more complicated and less helpful than he might hope. 

I also like that we can contrast this disaster trio with Mensah’s clearly stable, clearly long-term, clearly loving arrangement with her marital partners.  Because they might not have wanted her to go, but they still love and support her.  They still have seven children together, whose picture acts as the centerpiece to her room.  If the show goes on for more seasons, we’ll certainly see more of Mensah’s family, but it’s nice to establish the norm of multiple marriages in Preservation society this early, and how healthy and stable they are, especially in light of the disaster throuple that is Arada, Ratthi, and Pin-Lee.

I love Ratthi’s self-doubts in this episode, because I think it highlights how much he’s trying to use his friendliness, his supportiveness, his Golden-Retriever-of-a-Man-ness to cover his self-doubt and even flavors of self-loathing.  There is clearly a lot about himself he doesn’t quite like, that he struggles with.  He is naturally sociable, naturally flirty.  He loves a good time, loves to trust people, and (if he’s true to his book counterpart), loves to love all different sorts of people.  But he struggles with commitment.  He struggles to live up to the standards he’s setting for himself.  So he’s too hungover to do weapons training.  He’s too eager to get the survey equipment and almost runs into danger.  He so earnestly wants to be there for everyone, so of course having sex with his friends seems like a great idea.  After all, for him, sex and friendship go together great.  I don’t really think he’s yet dug into the fact that Pin-Lee and Arada are sort of using him to paper over the cracks in their own foundation, and I’m interested to see how he reacts to realizing that’s the case.

His arc is a little difficult to see right now, but I imagine it’s going to be someting about finding himself. He’s a great guy; he’s eventually going to be SecUnit’s best friend. But who is he when he’s not being what everyone else needs? Who is Ratthi just on his own? I hope we (and maybe he) get to know that.

Pin-Lee has a little more definition to them after this episode, and I hope we keep getting more.  They’ve been built up quietly in the background, doing a lot of necessary plot work because it fits their personality rather than their job. They’re the one analyzing the satellite data for patterns in the outages, and this tells the audience a lot about their need for everything to make sense and fit neatly. They are a lover of patterns and order.  They are almost certainly the one who pushed for the throuple contract (because of course Pin-Lee needs a contract).  They see offering up another throuple as a means to fix things that frankly need honest discussions, but a contract is easier than a discussion, and one discussion may lead to another.

It’s clear Pin-Lee loves their wife, but seems to fear their wife doesn’t love them nearly as much. So they hide parts of themself they think Arada might find objectionable. They blunt their edges. I think a lot of Pin-Lee’s arc is going to be shifting further into the Pin-Lee from the books as they gain confidence. But that requires them to work through their issues with their wife. It requires trust rather than contract, accepting that they won’t always see the patterns and have control, and being okay with that. I wasn’t sure about combining Pin-Lee and Overse at first, but the more I look at it, the more interesting of an arc has been set up for this character, going from an amalgamation with more Overse into more of a book-true Pin-Lee, specifically by embracing many things Pin-Lee struggles with. 

Arada is the mystery to me right now.  She’s very caring, very focused on being kind and fair.  She’s the one who first has clearly decided that SecUnit is a person.  She’s the one who insists that the worm that tried to eat her was simply an animal doing what animals do.  She’s the one who makes certain people are validated, supported, given gifts of embroidery and windchimes.  She’s the heart of the group in many ways.

But who is she beneath the care?  I feel like we haven’t gotten to know her as well as the others quite yet, and I really want to learn more about her perspective.  She brings a great, solid base of caring to the equation, but she can also clearly blind herself to her own more selfish impulses. There isn’t a deliberately selfish or cruel bone in her body, but there is a part of her that happily believes that if she wants something, her spouse wants it too. If Pin-Lee doesn’t openly object, then Pin-Lee is trilled to be a part of whatever Arada wants. It’s a very ordinary, human flaw, to overlook someone else’s discomfort in your own excitement.

I want to see that dug into, more explored.  I want all the awkward, painful bits of Arada to come out the same as we’re getting for the others.  Of everyone, I feel like her shitty coping mechanisms are perhaps the least defined, and I am eager to see them laid bare. I think her arc has yet to take shape, and I am eager to know where she’s going.

DR. GURATHIN: HYPERVIGILANCE AND HYPERCOMPETENCE

Oh boy, the king of shitty coping mechanisms came into fairly sharp focus in this episode, didn’t he?  He only really got three scenes, being kept on base with Bharadwaj, but each of them hits hard for different reasons.  His argument with Mensah about going to DeltFall drives home his hypervigilance, and how it turns him inward to the point of paranoia and bringing out his own worst impulses. 

He is fiercely protective of this group of friends, these very few people who he cares about, and is willing to do some fairly shitty things to keep them safe. And even so, everything feels like it’s slipping out of his control (and he needs to be useful, and he needs to have control).  His better nature can still be reached, particuarly by Mensah who is still able to talk him down. This episode makes it clear how much he puts Mensah on a pedestal as The Best Person (it’s funnily enough similar to what Murderbot does after ‘All Systems Red’ in the books).  So he caves, and she and the team leave, and he’s left alone with Bharadwaj. Does he think it’s a good idea? No. Does it matter? Not really, but also on a personal level it matters very much, because it leaves him in a position to stew in his own insecurities and fears. And he’s got more than his fair share of both.

In the scene with Bharadwaj we see his second major coping mechanism: the need to be useful.  He can’t talk to her about her experiences.  He doesn’t understand them and is painfully fucking awkward at the best of times, and he knows it.  But he offers up the trauma modules he has that clearly helped him at least a little.  It’s what he’s got, and it’s what he’s comfortable offering a friend in need.

She turns him down.  And this triggers his final scene in the show, and one that plays on multiple layers.  The first layer is SecUnit’s layer, the one we’re presented when we listen to and believe its voiceover, and that is that he’s being creepy.  He’s going into Mensah’s room without her permission; he looks at the photo of her kids and he smells her pillow.  That’s creepy, right?  Right?

But if you watch the scene on mute, without the color commentary, it feels a lot more like a poor attempt at self-soothing in the face of a breakdown.  Gurathin’s backstory is not very clear at this point, but I think it’s safe to assume his relationship with his parents is a far cry from Mensah’s loving family.  So there is comfort in seeing the photo of her children (and if he and Mensah have been friends for six years, he probably knows the kids at least a little).  He’s clinging to this ideal of Mensah as what he wants to be, as much as he has a crush on her: to him she’s competent, caring, effortlessly balancing the needs of everyone.  She’s a good mother, a good friend, a good leader.

And in the face of the fear of losing her, of losing all his friends to unknown and uncontrollable dangers, he falls apart.  In this place where he maybe feels just a little safe, he completely collapses. It’s not pretty and it’s not great and it’s absolutely bordering on inappropriate.  Yes, it sure does look like he smell her pillow (not great, even if she never finds out), but after that he mostly just shatters.  He’s sobbing by the end of the scene, and the narration just doesn’t quite notice it, and because the audience can’t hear it, it’s easy to miss.  There is an enormous disconnect between what SecUnit thinks is happening in that moment (tawdry, one-dimensional creeping) and what is actually happening (understandable, still inappropriate, badly maladaptive, but deeply human breakdown). 

He, like Bharadwaj, is having his coping mechanisms fail him.  He’s not useful.  He’s hypervigilant to the point of paranoia, and it’s NOT HELPING.  It could easily drive a wedge between him and his friends and he can’t help it because it’s what he knows how to do.  He protects what little he cares about.  There is an obvious ruthless, selfish streak to him that remains from the Corporation Rim and whatever was done to him there (and the more hints we get, the more sense we get that it was BAD). 

Interestingly, I’m not sure where Gurathin’s arc is headed. He’s one of the best developed characters at this point, but it’s all not great. He’s got a lot of room to grow, but in what direction? I’m not sure, and I’m honestly excited that I’m not sure. It makes more of a mystery, trying to figure out what the writers are planning on doing with him aside from making him a narrative foil for Muderbot.

CONCLUSIONS

I really like that the show is being bold in its choices to show the uglier, more maladaptive sides of these people. I like that it’s trying, with only about twenty minutes an episode, to actually make them believable people having believable responsives to an incredibly difficult situation.

That’s what I ended up really taking away from this continuation of the series, after watching it back to back to back with the previous two: we now have an idea of most of these characters’ stress responses, how good or often bad they are.  They are all so eager (except SecUnit) to help one another, but they are all trying desperately to hide how much they need help.  They are kind and caring, but still painfully human. 

With Mensah reaching out to SecUnit, with the first tentative attempt to make it care, I think we as the audience have also been positioned to see these people as their own raw selves, and to learn to embrace them, to care, just as much as Murderbot will begin to care about them.

I am still really liking this show.  I still want to see where it’s going.  If anything, I wish that each episode was just a few minutes longer, because a lot of moments are surprisingly subtle, undermining the narration, and acting as contrast to the way SecUnit currently perceives the world.  Would it be better if those moments had a bit longer to breathe, or is their subtelty and the need to watch the show a few times to catch everything part of the charm?

[eelhound]

"The idea of reforming Omelas is a pleasant idea, to be sure, but it is one that Le Guin herself specifically tells us is not an option. No reform of Omelas is possible — at least, not without destroying Omelas itself:

If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms.

'Those are the terms', indeed. Le Guin’s original story is careful to cast the underlying evil of Omelas as un-addressable — not, as some have suggested, to 'cheat' or create a false dilemma, but as an intentionally insurmountable challenge to the reader. The premise of Omelas feels unfair because it is meant to be unfair. Instead of racing to find a clever solution ('Free the child! Replace it with a robot! Have everyone suffer a little bit instead of one person all at once!'), the reader is forced to consider how they might cope with moral injustice that is so foundational to their very way of life that it cannot be undone. Confronted with the choice to give up your entire way of life or allow someone else to suffer, what do you do? Do you stay and enjoy the fruits of their pain? Or do you reject this devil’s compromise at your own expense, even knowing that it may not even help? And through implication, we are then forced to consider whether we are — at this very moment! — already in exactly this situation. At what cost does our happiness come? And, even more significantly, at whose expense? And what, in fact, can be done? Can anything?

This is the essential and agonizing question that Le Guin poses, and we avoid it at our peril. It’s easy, but thoroughly besides the point, to say — as the narrator of 'The Ones Who Don’t Walk Away' does — that you would simply keep the nice things about Omelas, and work to address the bad. You might as well say that you would solve the trolley problem by putting rockets on the trolley and having it jump over the people tied to the tracks. Le Guin’s challenge is one that can only be resolved by introspection, because the challenge is one levied against the discomforting awareness of our own complicity; to 'reject the premise' is to reject this (all too real) discomfort in favor of empty wish fulfillment. A happy fairytale about the nobility of our imagined efforts against a hypothetical evil profits no one but ourselves (and I would argue that in the long run it robs us as well).

But in addition to being morally evasive, treating Omelas as a puzzle to be solved (or as a piece of straightforward didactic moralism) also flattens the depth of the original story. We are not really meant to understand Le Guin’s 'walking away' as a literal abandonment of a problem, nor as a self-satisfied 'Sounds bad, but I’m outta here', the way Vivier’s response piece or others of its ilk do; rather, it is framed as a rejection of complacency. This is why those who leave are shown not as triumphant heroes, but as harried and desperate fools; hopeless, troubled souls setting forth on a journey that may well be doomed from the start — because isn’t that the fate of most people who set out to fight the injustices they see, and that they cannot help but see once they have been made aware of it? The story is a metaphor, not a math problem, and 'walking away' might just as easily encompass any form of sincere and fully committed struggle against injustice: a lonely, often thankless journey, yet one which is no less essential for its difficulty."

- Kurt Schiller, from "Omelas, Je T'aime." Blood Knife, 8 July 2022.

[tonycries]

Love Is Blind

Synopsis. Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out. Face stuffed desperately between your thighs and nose-deep in your cunt, he knows his glasses are bound to get dirty - but that’s half the fun.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, oral sex (female receiving) he’s a bit mean but sexy, glasses kink (??!!?), pet names (angel, baby), swearing.

Word count. 1.2k

A/N. My way of coping with only being able to wear fake glasses.

Art by @_3aem on X.

Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out.

His hair was askew, lips stinging, and glasses lopsided from the feral make-out session he’d pulled you into right as he walked in through that damn door. Kissing you as if your lips were the source of life itself.

He knows he’s being rougher than usual. Nails digging neat crescents into your pretty thighs as he bullies your legs apart on the cold kitchen counter. Pushing his glasses back up, he has to bite back a groan at your glistening cunt. Shit, all he did was throw you around a bit and you’re already so wet for him.

You’d been teasing him all morning before work. Wearing that damn short skirt - his favorite - and batting your lashes at him in a way you knew would have you bent over and stuffed full of his cock in seconds. 

Fuck whoever invented the work week, he’d rather stay in bed with his pretty girl till the neighbors file a noise complaint again. 

Yet, for the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you - fucking his fist pathetically in that dingy work bathroom - you were going to pay tonight.

Almost in a trance, he barely registers the pain as his knees hit the tile desperately, brows furrowed as if in the depths of prayer. Perhaps he was - lustful gaze looking over his frames to flicker indecisively between your half-lidded eyes and kiss-bitten lips, which move to whimper “Hngh- Baby, I need your mouth on me so bad.”

Ah, he really had a goddess splayed out and aching for him.

“Mm, oh really?” he breathes hotly over your quivering pussy, glasses slightly fogging up as he teases himself just as much as you. The slow torture was delicious. 

“Yes!.”

A smug smile spreads across his face. 

You flinch when the cold plastic of his glasses touches your throbbing clit as his face meets your cunt, tongue flattening against your swollen folds - not yet dipping inside. You gasp at the sensation, the lack of what you crave so badly.

He feels drunk off the pretty mewls escaping your mouth, mind almost hazy enough to go easy on you. Almost.

“Get my glasses dirty and you’ll be making up for it, angel.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your pussy that have it clenching around nothing.

Lewd squelches fill the air as his tongue slides teasingly between your folds in an unhurried rhythm that has your hips bucking for more. “Behave.” he warns, fingers holding your hips so firmly in place that he’s sure he leaves marks. 

“B-but…want you inside me. Want to come around your tongue, baby.”

Shit, you were so good at winding him up, knowing everything that makes him tick. 

But all he can remember is the little smirk curling around your lips as you bent over in that godforsaken skirt right as he was one step out the door on the way to an urgent meeting.

This time, he wanted to play with you a little more.

He breathes you in so sinfully as his nose catches on your pulsing clit, finally giving you an ounce of the friction you’ve been craving so desperately. 

“Hah- Don’t stop.” you beg.

Doing exactly the opposite, he pulls away, your slick forming a pretty gloss all over his bruised lips - dangerously close to where his glasses rested on his nose.

“Oh? Thought you were holding out on me, angel. Where did that go?” he cocks his head, chuckling at your frustrated whines. 

“I’m sorry baby. Hngh-” he cuts you off with a long lick dipping into your dripping hole playfully. 

“Yeah?” he hums.

“Yes.”

“Won’t make me pop a boner during meetings anymore?” he whispers, lips ghosting a hair’s breadth from where you needed him the most. 

“No- please! I’ll be good for you.” you sputter out.

Now, in all his years of loving you, he’s done everything he can so that you never shed a tear when you’re with him. Even going so far as to smother you in kisses to try and make you smile each time the dog dies in those damn sappy movies during date night.

But right now, the impatient tears that cling to your lashes at his actions make his cock twitch, a carnal part of him delighting in your desperation for him.

“Tell me what you want, my angel.”

“Fuck me with your tongue…please.” your whimpers send blood rushing straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

The heat of his tongue and the sex in the air as he dives nose-deep into your dripping pussy has condensation building up on his glasses. His tongue attacks your hole ruthlessly, dipping in and out at a pace that has you gripping the counter for support, “Ah! Yes! Keep going, baby.”

His lips make out with your dripping cunt with a lust that eclipses the need for air. A desperation for your essence. Who needs to breathe when he prefers to be smothered by his girl’s pretty pussy.

He moans around your entrance as your juices gush around his tongue, glasses pressing against his face when he pushes his face impossibly closer to your hot core. His eyes roll to the back of his head at your addictive taste. His favorite.

Yelps of his name leave your mouth at each tight circle of his tongue on your clit, only pushing him to suck harder. 

He relishes in how messy you are, slick now starting to drip around the corners of his mouth. Absolutely convinced that he’s losing more and more of his grip on reality at each tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor.

His glasses have now completely fogged up, forcing him to continue his abuse on your pussy through pure, feral need. Won’t be long now, he thinks at your breathless moans.

Your juices smearing all over his mouth and nose, he feels you clenching down on him as he ramps up the harsh movements of his mouth. “Jus’ like that. Shit, I’m gonna-” your mewls echo across the room.

You come fast and hard all over his mouth - and his glasses, as he had known you would.

His heavenly sight of your dripping cunt is now blurred by your slick covering the glass, dripping down the side of his frames and onto the kitchen floor. He could barely see a damn thing, but he knows he fucking loves it.

What is it that they say? Love is blind?

He chuckles lowly as you try and catch your breath, legs twitching in sensitivity on the counter. 

Slowly removing his glasses, he runs a finger along them, inspecting the mess his girl’s slutty pussy has made. He collects your sweet juices before popping a finger in his mouth - unable to help himself. 

He groans at the taste - shit, he should really make you taste yourself later. 

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm, your dazed eyes follow him as he stands to his full height, towering above you. 

You see the slight curve of his grin before he deftly slides his glasses onto the bridge of your nose. Legs still spread and feeling the weight of his glasses, you feel so exposed - like you’ve fallen right into his trap.

“Now, now, angel…” he tuts, fingers unbuttoning his tight pants, cock straining for relief. 

“What did I say about dirtying my glasses?”

- GOJO, Nanami, Armin, TSUKISHIMA, KUROO, OIKAWA, Kunikida 

A/N. Pretend that Kuroo and Armin wear glasses okay. Also apologies if you saw this before, other post was being buggy and I’m still trynna figure stuff out.

Plagiarism not authorized.