#but just the feeling of creating something from nothing

[salemlunaa]

SELF CONCEPT IS KEY — WHO ARE YOU BEING TODAY?

feel like you’re stuck in a loop?

Pete Sapper said “When you know who you are, your mirror will reflect it, when you don’t know who you are, it will also reflect”

You don’t need to anything for your manifestations to materialise, as they already have, creation is finished, but self concept is something that really helps you wrap your mind around it.

When I say that you are God, do you really and truly know that? And I ask for knowing and not believing because beliefs change all the time. Do you KNOW you are God, or do you just get this rush of excitement and adrenaline after reading some motivational posts just to fall back into old patterns a few hours later?

What colour hair do you have? Let’s say you have black hair and maybe you dyed it blonde, would you constantly go back on the fact that you have black hair, i mean if it was a dye job you got done yesterday, you might forget for a moment, but you’ll be like “oh that’s right, i have blonde hair” and go on about your day, because 1. You KNOW that’s it’s true and 2. You KNOW that you are the person who has blonde hair. That one time you forgot doesn’t negate from the fact that you have blonde hair.

A lot of you “persist and persist”, and wonder why your outer world hasn’t changed, let me tell you something i’m not gonna bullshit you and tell you that these are old thoughts playing out because they aren’t, it’s just not true, there is no separation between your outer and inner, A mirror doesn’t have a mind of its own, it can’t “test” you or show you something that you are NOT, because think of a literal mirror (that’s what this outer world is), when we say that, it isn’t some cute metaphor, it’s the truth. The reason things haven’t changed is because YOU haven’t. Again, think of a mirror, instant reflections are the ONLY TYPE OF REFLECTIONS!! be the person who assumes otherwise? you will stay waiting, looking for posts to motivate you instead of living the life you want.

You can do as many things to manifest your dream body, but if you’re still being the person who is a loser with a shitty figure, guess what?… Have you heard the phrase “You cannot trick God”, since we have now come to terms with the fact that we are God, the term can now be written as “you cannot trick yourself”, you also can’t run from who you are. God, you, your consciousness can tell the difference between believing, and KNOWING. If you KNOW and accept your unfavourable life as true, no amount of wishful thinking and hopeful attempts at techniques will change what you know. So what is there to do? change SELF.

ꨄꨄꨄ

Become God, step into that state of being now, you ARE pure consciousness now, there is nothing to do, nothing to induce. You ARE the void now. You are limitless, you have always succeeded in anything you do, so why not know? Your outer world reflects instantly because you are God and what you say goes. There is no one above you, now if you knew that why are you getting triggered with all the limiting beliefs, why would anyone tell YOU, as God, how to create.

When someone says “your manifestation will ONLY take 3 Days if you do this magnificent method that-”.

Instead of mindlessly following another method like a junkie. You say “wtf i’m literally GOD not you, 3 days?? pfft my shit is instant because i’m just so fucking unlimited and ethereal”

You are God, the only free thinker in your reality. Not even im freely thinking from your perspective, im just a projection. So what if someone tells you that you have to do this and that to get what you want? everyone else is a lowly human, YOU are God. Absolute Intelligence. With words that instantly create. Once you get that through your skull you will never have a day in your life where you are experiencing unfavourable circumstances.

Who cares if Nancy’s dream bod took 3 months?

Who cares if Wyatt took 2 weeks to shift to his dream life?

Who cares if Jessica looped affirmations all day to get her grades?

YOU ARE GOD HERE. Not them. Time is not real and Creation is finished, WHO CARES ABOUT THEM?? YOU. HAVE. EVERYTHING.

I am not religious by any means but i believe a lot of religious books were guides to understand self, that got, as we can see, heavily misconstrued. And there’s this verse:

Joshua 24:15 “As for me and my house we will serve the Lord”

Do you know what that actually means: It means who cares what everyone else’s limiting beliefs are, who cares what everyone else “had” to do, or what everyone else believes. As for you and your mind, You will serve God, That is You.

You are one perception away from everything materialising. This isn’t the Law of Desire, if so everyone would have everything they could ever want, by simply.. wanting it. It’s the law of Being, BE GOD, and put YOURSELF on the pedestal, then you will wake up in this illusion, you will start to see that there are no big and small manifestations. You will start to see that your consciousness created all of this and none of it is real, and nothing will be hard or easy for you anymore, it will just be. You will start to understand that time doesn’t exist, and all this other noise matters not anymore, for you are sovereign. You will start to understand that you are one decision away.

Idc if you have to repeat it, or to visualise yourself as this godly being, idc what you do, even so much as a one-and-done decision as long as you understand who you are.

I get all these asks and dms too (before i turned them off) with problems that would not be problems if you guys understood who you actually are. Some of the things you guys complain about WOULDNT EVEN EXIST if you just stepped into that knowing that you are God.

And I know time doesn’t exist, but for those of you who still resonate with the 3D and human concepts (even tho that’s like, soooo dumb 🙄), you will spend a lot more “time” without what you want if you don’t start BEING the person who has it all.

Focus on that self concept, be the most egotistical, self-obsessed, head-up-your-own-ass typa bitch. For you are God and any lesser treatment of self would be nonsensical.

When you know you are, the world will reflect your power

©salemlunaa

[mattsstarlet]

⋆˚࿔ throat trained ⟢

getting messy for neighbor!matt

you sat on your knees between matt’s legs messily slurping his cock that was shoved down your throat, your eyesight filling with salty tears as they ran down your cheeks, mixing with your dripping saliva.

he bucked his hips forward, replacing a small grunt with a deep chuckle, feeling the back of your throat pulse around his throbbing tip, your fingernails digging into the back of his thighs, hurriedly gathering air with your nose.

“fuck, who throat trained you, huh?”

your aching cunt fluttered at his words, your sloppy hole clenching around nothing while you began hollowing your cheeks. the suckling noises kept getting louder the faster you bobbed your head, filling up the small space of your living room.

“my neighbor looks so cute on her knees f’me.” he rasped, groaning at the wet ‘plop’ noises his cock made. matt couldn’t keep his eyes off you— your cheeks were tainted a light pink tone, your forehead sticky from the small beads of sweat but most importantly you were stuffed full.

“lookin’ pretty with my cock down your throat.”

matt felt his blood rush quicker with the whimpering and humming noises you made around his dick, cupping both of your cheeks and bruising your muscle tube. your spit hanging from his balls in a drooling form, creating a tiny puddle on your wooden floor beneath him.

he found pleasure in the way you swallowed him without a single complaint, you were always so eager to please him, letting him use you in any form he wanted and he won’t lie, he has purposely left things loose or broken other items in your home just to get another knock on his door, it’s worked so many times.

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

note ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ i’m not back on tumblr yet but i just wanted to share something that’s been in my drafts for the longest :)

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: month by month memories made during your pregnancy.

andrew pope cody x reader

warnings: bad writing, pregnancy and everything that goes along with it, fluff, a touch of angst, kinda implied smuttyness - they don’t boink in graphic detail but it is implied it is about to happen. smurf evaporated? and it never explains where went (choose your own adventure) these two really love each other and it’s so gross (affectionate)

a/n: i promise the next thing i write will be something from the requests. thank you to everyone for their patience there.

month one

not telling people has been the hardest part. especially when you feel nauseous and tired all the time but you still have to pretend everything is normal in your day to day life. you want to tell people so that they understand when you send your class to recess that you need to lay your head on your desk for a couple minutes and breathe through your nose to get the nausea at bay, or when you get home from work and lena is full of afterschool energy she needs to burn you take her to the park but all you want to do is lay down on the couch instead. still you are more than happy to feel the fatigue because this is exactly what should be happening to your body.

it worries andrew. it worries him when he has to hold your hair back in the bathroom every morning after you finish your glass of orange juice. it worries him when you fall asleep with your head on his lap every night before lena is even in bed. you do everything to reassure him that this means the baby is healthy. that your energy is being used to create life right now but he’s still going to worry. he won’t let you lift a finger at home. you fight him on this because of course you would. “i can make dinner, y’know? fully capable. the baby only adds to the housewife charm.” still he sits you at the kitchen island with a glass of water and a snack you can tolerate today. “you can help by sitting here where i can see you, if you’re good maybe i will let you mix something, no chopping though. too dangerous.”

month two

coming back inside after making sure lena got on the bus fine andrew hears the frustrated groan coming from the closet. he heads down the hallway to investigate. “is everything alright in here? you need any-woah” you turn to him and the shirt you have on is accentuating one of his favourite things about you in a way that he very much notices today. “nothing fits properly anymore, my boobs are too big and it’s all your fault.” you playfully throw another failed option at him, you let him stare though because between the sickness and the fatigue you haven’t felt sexy in a while, and with him being so on edge that you’re going to break all the time his staring was more of a protective watch these days, so the ogling was a welcomed change. “are you sure i think this fits just fine?” he finally peels his eyes from your chest to look you in the eye.

“you would-because you are such a boy. i can’t wear this to work, i would accidentally pop right out of it, and you know the principal already doesn’t know where to look when a woman is speaking to him. so looks like i’m stealing one of your hoodies today and you can’t do anything about it.” you pull your favourite off the hanger in the closet, take off the other top giving him a bit of a show, pull on the hoodie and waltz out the closet past him. he blinks to gain back the composure you just so easily knocked out of him, before he follows you into the kitchen. “you look great in that too by the way, always have.” he leans against the counter. “you’d make a trash bag look sexy.” you look down at the lunch you are packing up with a smile, and blush too because even though you’ve been together for a while, when he decides to openly flirt with you it’s devastating.

you pack up everything you need for the day before indulging yourself in a cuddle into his chest while he rubs his hands up and down your back for a minute then you tilt your head up to meet his lips for a kiss goodbye. “i will see you later.” you tell him, with a seeming promise that he will see a lot of you later. making sure he knows he’s left you a bit worked up, if you asked him - you started it.

month three

the day is finally here. you have an appointment with the obgyn for the first ultrasound that you have (im)patiently been waiting for. after you finally get to tell lena. keeping this from her has been harder than the morning sickness, but you wanted to make sure everything was fine before giving her the news.

andrew hasn’t let go of your hand since you got out of the truck and into the doctor’s office. you give his a comforting squeeze and he looks down into your eyes. you smile up. it feels like you are the only two in the waiting room. that is until your name is called kind of loud by the tech who takes you back. she tells you to lie back and to lift your shirt while she tucks in something to protect your pants. she works on getting some preliminary scans to give to the doctor and taking some pictures before the doctor will be in. she leaves you two with no information which makes you a bit anxious, andrew can sense this so he places a kiss to your temple and rubs his thumb on the back of your hand when she leaves the room.

the doctor comes in, she is a warm middle aged woman who instantly brings you some comfort. “let’s take a look shall we” she adds more gel to your stomach and starts moving the wand around. “looks like we have one happy, healthy little baby growing in there, measuring approximately eleven weeks and three days. do you want to hear the heartbeat?” you look up to andrew for his confirmation and nod to her letting her know you’re interested in that. she plays around with the volume settings on her machine and goes in to find the best spot to get a good heartbeat. the steady sound plays out and you can’t help the relieved laugh that comes from your lips. you smile and look up at andrew and again with tears falling from your eyes. he wipes them away and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“sounds like we have a strong one in there, mama is doing a good job keeping them safe.” the doctor smiles at you while she says that. easing all the fears you didn’t even know you had before you got on the table. “they will have pictures for the fridge up at the front desk ready for you.” she winks as she takes the towel to wipe the excess off of your stomach.

in the car you immediately open the envelope to look at the scans while andrew drives to lena’s school for pick up. before you get there you stash the envelope back in your bag and watch as andrew waits on the sidewalk for her. she comes running up, he picks her up and makes sure she’s all buckled in to her booster seat. she is excited to see you, a rare sight at pickup as you’re usually at a different school teaching. “you came to pick me up too?” she beams at you like it’s something so special. you can’t help but mirror her smile. “i had the day off at my school today, so i thought i would come with. even got uncle pope on board to stop for dessert before dinner.” she gasps. “no way, uncle pope really?” he laughs at her excitement. “yeah kiddo, really.”

the three of you get situated with your ice cream and have found a picnic table down closer to the beach to enjoy, you sit next to lena while andrew sits across from the both of you. “lena uncle pope and i have some special news to tell you.” she looks up to you and nods. you pull out the envelopes with the ultrasound pictures and lay them on the table to show her. “these are pictures of the baby that is in my belly right now, and they are so excited to meet you when they come out.” lena blinks at the picture processing what you just told her. she looks at andrew and then back to you. “like a little brother or sister?” she has absolutely no idea how much that comment is a relief to you that she sees this baby as a sibling. “yes lena, a little brother or sister who is already so lucky because they have you as a big sister.” you smile at andrew who seems to share your relief at how lena is took the news. lena shifts a bit to give you a hug. “i will be the best big sister, i promise.” you can’t hold the little tear that you shed at this “i don’t doubt that at all.” and when you look over to andrew with lena in your arms you swear his eyes are a little misty too.

month four

“the beach house will be up for grabs pretty quick if anyone wants it.” craig looks at pope like he has three heads when he says that. “why you guys moving away or something?” pope kind of wishes they were but lena likes her school and you like your job. “no, we just needed a bigger place with more rooms one for lena, one for a nursery and a yard to play in.” he looks up with a proud smile he doesn’t even bother hiding waiting for the boys to hopefully clue in. “no way man! is she pregnant?” deran of course was the first one to clue in. the news even causes a rare smile from j. “yeah, due five months from now.” craig leans in to give him a very aggressive brotherly hug, deran following up. “holy shit, dude she’s going to be the best mom, and i think you won’t do too bad yourself in the dad department, lena is turning out pretty great.” pope just nods at this. “she already is the best mom.”

the movers just placed the last box of your things in your new home. a two story with the kitchen and living room on the bottom with the bedrooms upstairs and a bonus room you have big playroom plans for. it’s everything you wanted, including the back yard with the beautiful garden the previous owners had started, and room for a treehouse. andrew was at the old place handing the keys over to craig so you thought you would get started unpacking the boxes labeled kitchen.

that’s where andrew finds you standing on the step-ladder putting away things on the top shelf. he grabs you by the hips and places you gently on the ground “get down from there.” you roll your eyes at him and grumble. “i was putting things away, im pregnant, not elderly.” he shakes his head at you, he can’t even be mad you’re so cute, so he compromises. “you can put the things away that you can reach, plus you got dizzy the other day getting up from the couch.” you look away from him, glad that he didn’t bring it up when it happened but embarrassed that he still caught you. “there’s lots of blood pumping all over my body, i apparently don’t know what to do with it all.” you say quietly he has to strain a bit to hear you. he pulls you into his chest and rubs your back. “i know, i watched a video explaining it, that’s why i didn’t panic.” something about his admission to watching what to expect when expecting videos makes your stomach flutter. you look up at him pouting your lips for a kiss, he obliges. “okay now get to work, you have wine glasses to put away on the top shelf.” you say as you give him a little pat on his ass. he laughs and gets to work “aye aye captain.”

month five

you’re back at the obgyn office, this time for the anatomical check up that will also tell you the gender of the baby. you were so excited for this one, and andrew was too.

the technician went over and took your vitals much like the first time. your doctor who you have come to really enjoy after seeing her for all your monthly check ups is in next. she flicks on the machine. “okay are we ready?” you nod. “very.” the same steady sound of the babies heartbeat mixed with yours is heard again. she’s running the wand around to make sure everything is measuring and there is nothing obviously wrong. “baby is growing like a weed in there, good job mama. everything looks great. i was able to see the babies gender, was that something you were looking to find out today? i can tell you or we can put it in an envelope.” you looked up at andrew, you had both discussed that you wanted to know, but you also wanted to do it more intimately. “in the envelope please, we have someone special at home we want to share the news with.” it’s not totally a lie but you and andrew plan to find out the two of you before doing a small reveal with lena. your doctor smiles at that. “of course. it will be in the package with your updated printouts. i will see you back here in four weeks for the regular check up.”

this was a morning appointment so you had a bit of time before andrew went to pick lena up. he drives the both of you home and parks the truck. you turn to him. “can we open it right now. i don’t even think i can wait until we’re inside. it’s burning in my hands.” he laughs at that and how you are basically bouncing up and down with excitement. “sure let’s do it. right here, right now.” you pull out the envelope from the package and hold it in your hands and look at him then back to the envelope. “okay, yeah, wow it’s just right in there, y’know the news.” now you seem nervous.

“do you want me to do it?” he can sense your hesitation. you thrust the envelope into his hands. “yeah good idea, you do it.” he smiles at you and opens the envelope and unfolds the piece of paper. it has the transcription of the ultrasound findings but at the bottom in bold he can read fetus is presumed female. he feels himself getting emotional when he looks into your eyes. “it’s a girl” you gasp at that and reach to give him a big happy kiss. “good thing you’ve been practicing your ballerina bun” you say on his lips. he laughs at that and pulls you in by the back of your head for another kiss because he can’t help himself.

when you finally make it inside you get to work on the surprise for lena. choosing to just bake some cupcakes and hide coloured frosting in the one you’re going to give her after dinner tonight. andrew and lena arrive home as you are just finishing up putting sprinkles on the top of the seemingly plain vanilla cupcakes with vanilla frosting, you set the special one aside for later because now they all look the same. when lena comes in and is excited about the cupcakes you almost want to throw all plans of making her wait until after dinner, but andrew is the fun police and tells her that the cupcakes are for dessert and she has to have dinner first.

like most nights you help her with her homework at the kitchen table as andrew makes dinner. once everyone has eaten and the dishes are cleaned up. you plate the cupcakes for dessert.

before lena can take a bite andrew stops her. “lena there is a special surprise in your cupcake. there is blue or pink frosting that will tell you if you’re having a little brother or sister, so don’t inhale it this time.” she looks even more excited about the cupcake then before. you sit beside andrew and squeeze his hand as you watch lena tentatively take a bite of the cupcake. you can see the pink on her nose and she looks up at the both of you with big eyes. “it’s pink, does that mean i get a sister?” you smile at lena. “yeah lena a little sister, she’s going to be so lucky. she has the best big sister to share toys with.” lena puts her cupcake down and runs to the both of you for a group hug. “thank you, i know i was supposed to love a brother too but im really happy it’s a girl” that makes you and andrew laugh. she lets go of you and enjoys the rest of her dessert you dig into yours too, and because you forced the issue by just putting one in front of him, andrew eats his too.

after dinner the three of you are sitting on the couch watching tv, lena is leaning against you when suddenly there is a hard kick coming from the inside that she can feel. she gasps and looks up at you. this is the first time that anyone has been able to feel a kick besides you. “was that her pushing me?” lena asks andrew quickly goes to move his hand to your stomach you grab it and place it exactly where the baby is kicking. “she wanted to say hello to her two favourite people, and she’s letting us know she really enjoyed her sugar rush from the cupcake.” andrew snorts at this “of course she enjoyed her cupcake, she’s already her mother’s daughter.”

month six

you step out of the ensuite after finishing up your nighttime routine in the bathroom and take a seat on the bed, you’re about to start your new nightly routine of moisturizing and oiling your bump when you hear andrew walk down the hall. he stops and leans on the entry way. crossing his arms as he watches you with your stomach exposed rubbing in the moisturizer. “you know if you took a picture it would last longer” you change your focus from your belly to look him up in the eye but on the way to his eyes you get a bit distracted, you don’t think he’s ever looked better. he’s leaning there so casually, the worn out t-shirt he has on is stretching over his chest just right and his arms crossed against said chest are very muscular and very veiny, the arm holes of the shirt are holding on for dear life against them. when you finally do get to his face it appears you have been caught checking him out, he has one eyebrow raised at you and a sexy smirk letting you know that he knows you want him, kinda really bad at this point. how did he turn the tables that fast, wasn’t he just the one staring at you a second ago? you blame your hormones, your currently very depraved hormones.

“do you want to help with the oil?” you’re trying anything for the upper hand here. he walks over and kneels beside the bed his hand lingering in yours as he grabs the oil out of it. he’s looking up at you from his lowered position and driving you crazy. he gets some of the oil in his hands and starts to massage them over your stomach. you bite back a moan when his hands are finally on you and you can see him smirking again. “getting all worked up princess, aren’t you?” he wipes his hands on the towel and is now standing towering over you. you grab his shirt and drag him down “just shut up and do something about it already”

month seven

you are so glad the school year is almost over your back has started to ache from the added weight and being on your feet all day teaching doesn’t help. the baby is now taking up space shared with your lungs so you get winded very easily as well, you’re back to first trimester exhaustion levels, and andrew is back to the first trimester levels of worry.

“you already turned your report cards into the principal, can’t you just skip school for the last couple of weeks, get a sub?” andrew is chasing you around the kitchen while you get ready to leave. “i can’t do that, this is when the fun is all planned.” he knows this, he also knows that the fun brings more risk of danger, and he can’t be there to catch you. you reach up to put a hand behind his head rubbing your thumb back and forth where his brows are pinched together. “i will be fine, there is so much added supervision, most activities are going to be with the other grade one class, i have a student teacher until the end of the year, and my regular teachers aide won’t let me lift a finger, you should see the way she has my chair all set up. i seriously could take a nap if i wanted.” andrew lets out a sigh, wraps his arms around you and lays his head down in your chest in defeat which makes you laugh. you scratch the back of his head. “i promise you will be my first call if anything does happen, but in all honesty that these last couple weeks are just going to be me sitting there and giving the occasional ‘stop that’ to the little stinkers” that seems to subdue him for now.

you get home from your last day of school and you look so wiped, lena’s school ended a week ago so andrew was home all day with her. you walk into the kitchen, put your bag down and sit at the island leaning over it to stretch out your back a bit. “is something wrong?” andrew is quick to your side. “everything just aches” you sniffle tears starting to form. your stupid hormones are back in a frustrating way this time. andrew leans down and kisses the back of your head before his fingers start to work magic on your lower back, exactly where you need it. if lena wasn’t just around the corner the moan you would have let out at this would be obscene. “is that good, any spot im missing?” you shake your head. “no that’s really good, perfect even” when the majority of the tension is gone you sit back up and turn in the stool to look at him. “i feel like i could have a nap now.” he smiles at you. “then go take one i will wake you up for dinner.” he won’t say anything to you about it, but he’s so glad school is out and he can watch over you these last couple of months.

month eight

it’s eleven pm and andrew still hasn’t come to bed, you know exactly where he is so you climb out and head over to the baby’s room. you stand at the door and just watch as andrew puts together the crib you picked out, he’s sitting on the floor, and his back is to you. this is the last step in setting up her room, between all the furniture he built and all the decorating you did. “you know i think that’s easier to do with the instructions” you finally make your presence known.

he huffs out a laugh. “i’m almost finished. what are you doing up?” he turns to look up at you from his spot on the floor. “she can’t sleep without daddy there, she’s moving nonstop.” at that he gets up and lays his hands on your stomach, his thumbs brushing over where the indents of her tiny feet mark against your skin. he leans down to give your stomach a kiss. “hey there bug are you kicking mommy? she has done nothing but take the best care of you. you should take it easy on her.” that earns him a swift little kick to where his mouth is and you both laugh. he straightens up to give you a kiss and is showing you to the rocking chair so you can have a seat while he finishes up with the crib. you put your feet up and rub your hand over your stomach while you watch him work. he wasn’t lying about being almost finished, he’s done building in about ten minutes before he’s unpacking the little mattress to go inside. once it’s all set up he turns to you and pulls you up off the rocking chair. you lean into his side. “we put all this work into this and she’s not even going to sleep in here for months.” he laughs and plants a kiss in your hair. “she’s worth it though, come on time to go to bed.”

month nine

thirty-seven weeks and three days. that is how far along you are when you are woken up by some cramping at 1:07 in the morning, and you can already feel that this is different from the braxton hicks your body was practicing with the past month. you slowly get yourself out of bed and head into the living room knowing you probably only have an hour tops before andrew comes to find you.

he does come to find you, he finds you leaning over the back of the couch swaying side to side through a contraction. he’s rubbing a hand up and down your back. “are you okay?” you nod face pressed into your crossed arms on the back of the couch. “yeah I think we get to meet her today.” you smile up at him and he matches it. you both know the majority of this will be an all day affair, so andrew shoots deran and craig a text telling them that it was time and they need to come get lena as soon as they see the text.

lena wakes up and andrew feeds her breakfast. you try to hide what is happening to your body from her, but it is getting increasingly difficult because now you have been in labour for about seven hours and things are moving more steady and more strong. you thank god that deran wakes up early to usually take in the morning waves. he is at your door ready to pick up lena by eight in the morning. you start to get a bit emotional when you go to say goodbye, this is the last time it will be just the three of you in this house. you hug her as tight as your stomach lets you “i love you lena, your baby sister is so ready to meet you.” you wipe tears from your eyes and andrew picks her up in a tight hug. “love you kiddo we will see you soon.” he passes her to deran and hands him her overnight bag. “i got her man, we will come see you as soon as you give the go ahead. my phone will be near by if either of you need anything.” he looks at you while he says that. you and andrew stand at the door and watch as they drive away.

“if you told me that was the hardest part about having a baby i wouldn’t have believed it.” you sniff. andrew rubs your shoulders and leads you back inside. you spend the next few hours labouring at home, the contractions are now about six minutes apart and last about a minute each time. after a call to the obgyn’s office you are instructed to head to the hospital to have your baby.

when you get there you are immediately checked over and given the news that you are seven centimetres dilated which is a relief to you, you don’t know how you would have handled the news of being anything less than a six on your first check.

andrew is perfect, being everything you need. he has ice chips when you ask, counter pressure on your hips when you don’t even ask and in between he is saying all the right supportive things that get you through every contraction that goes through your body. before you even know it you are being set up to push and your doctor is in the room with her comforting presence once again.

“okay mom, your body knows exactly what to do here, so just follow those instincts and we will be here to help if you need it.”

you only have to push for thirty minutes before your baby girl is being placed on your chest and letting everyone know how well her lungs work. you immediately sob and look up to andrew who also has tears falling from his eyes. he leans down to kiss your lips and press his forehead againt yours. “she’s perfect, you’re perfect thank you so much.” you lean in to kiss him again. “i love you” you both lean down to look at your perfect girl. around you things are still happening but the three of you are in your own little world.

the night goes on, you spend time doing skin to skin and have the first feeding, before you hand her off to andrew so you can get some rest. he is in heaven when the nurse helps to set him up so he can do skin to skin as well. he spends the whole night watching over his girls. his mind drifts to the one girl missing in this picture he checks the time and that problem should be resolved soon he thinks to himself. deran had texted him to let him know that they were here. he leaves you and the baby to go and get lena to bring her up to the room.

you start to chat with your baby in your arms. “you are about to meet the most special girl, you are so lucky that she’s your sister. she’s going to show you everything, how to have a tea party, how to play with barbies, she’s going to show you where we hide the cookie jar, im so excited for you to meet her she already loves you as much as mommy and daddy do. you hear andrew and lena approaching. “the baby might be sleeping so we need to be quiet.” you smile hearing her little voice, you missed it for the day she was away. “i can be quiet.”

andrew gently pulls the curtain back and you almost cry seeing him with lena in his arms. you shuffle over so there is a bit of room and andrew sits her down next to you. “lena this is your sister” you watch as her eyes scan over everything then she looks up at you. “can i hold her?” you smile at her. “of course you can let’s get you all set up.” andrew helps get the three of you situated so that lena can hold her sister, you have one arm behind lena while the other helps support the babies head. you really can’t help the smile on your face watching as lena takes it all in. you smile up at andrew and he drops a kiss to your forehead and all that he can think is how his life can’t get much better, but he knows you’ll find a way to prove him wrong.

[revelboo]

Could we get some Dad Skyfire? Cute domestic stuff- he’s such a darling

thank you for your service to the Transformers community

Sure!

Domestic

Skyfire x Reader

• Venting as she twists her face away with an unhappy warble, her tiny wings flaring, he sets the bottle aside and runs a big hand over his helm. Thought he had it right this time. Refining out impurities from the energon to try and make it easier on her internal systems, but she still won’t take it. He’s tried liquid and semi solid energon goodies both. The latter she’s only interested in smearing everywhere. Popping one into his own mouth, he can’t detect anything off about it. So why won’t she eat?

• Looking up when his shadow falls across you and smiling at the soft press of his mouth against your neck, you feel the tiny sparkling in his hands grab a fistful of the back of your shirt, chirping and bouncing. And after he pries her servos loose, you turn and even mass displaced, she’s so small in his big hands. But he’s just huge, smiling affectionately as you reach to take her, the forming nubs of her wings flicking when you brush them getting her settled against you. “Did your sire manage to get any energon in you?” You tease, shifting her weight so you can use the tail of your shirt to wipe her face as she warbles protests and leans away.

• “Very little,” he murmurs, optics pinched as his sparkling pats an energon smudged hand on your cheek to leave a blue smear. “It’s not agreeing with her,” he adds and you lean your head against her helm, eyes closing. “I’m going to try and refine what the Autobots are giving us further.” Knows it could be that she’s only picky, but he can’t help but worry as she clears her little vents with a harsh noise, big optics blinking and he reaches to wipe away the fine spatter of energon the sparkling left on your neck. He did it right. He’s sure he did, scoured the old databases to learn how to create a protoform, so why does he feel like he failed? Like he’s still failing?

• “Maybe you should take her in. You said there’s a medic at the Ark,” you say, the words tentative. Know he likes his autonomy and doesn’t want to get sucked back into picking a side. But his worry is starting to affect you. Trying to smile, but now you’re aware of every noise your daughter makes. Terrifying yourself because she’s not human and you have no idea what’s normal. Surely you’d know if something’s wrong? You can tell he’s concerned, but he won’t talk to you. Won’t say why he’s worried. “Skyfire?” And he’s cupping the back of your head in his palm, leaning his helm against you. “Talk to me?”

• Knows he’s stressing you, that you’re picking up on his worry. How to explain that he’s scared to let the Autobots know about you, about his sparkling? That he’s scared the war he didn’t want to fight will become hers? Hears her chirping softly, mouth open against your skin and his jaw clenches. Warbling hungrily as her wings flick and her face twists in distress. Needing energon and unable to keep it down. “The Ark,” he says on a growl, hoping he’s not making a mistake as your head lifts and you search his optics. “It’s just the fuel, she needs better energon. That’s all.”

• Blowing out a breath as she begins a raspy wailing, you rock her and watch him run the tip of a servo along one of her little audial fins. “Today,” you whisper and he vents to stir your hair, but he nods. ‘Now,’ he agrees and some of the worry eases. There’s nothing wrong. It’s just the fuel like he said. Brushing a kiss between her optics to make her warble and blink, you carry her outside into the sun, feeling the warmth sink into you. Watching him mass shift and transform, dropping a ramp for you both, and there’s still a moment of disconnect. Sometimes having a hard time reconciling that this is also Skyfire as you walk inside his alt mode and your daughter starts fussing again, chubby legs kicking and tiny servos clinging. Moving deeper inside him, you find a seat and a belt snakes around you as you settle her in your lap, bouncing your legs to try and distract her. And she looks up at you with wide optics while you search for yourself in her face and use your thumb to wipe away a smudge of energon from the corner of her mouth.

[leyavo]

Simon Riley dating someone that grew up with a similar childhood like him.

He loves that you haven’t lost your childlike wonder and remained soft. You don’t let your bad experiences taint the way you treat others either.

You introduce him to the whole inner child notion and he listens to you as you talk about the toys you’ve recently bought. All the little trinkets you wanted as a child, but never got. He doesn’t make fun of you, knows that it makes you happy to acknowledge your younger self.

If he sees something you’ve mentioned, he’s definitely buying it for you. He even likes that you’ve got him stuff he wanted when he was a kid too.

Reading comic books together, he takes them to the base with him when he’s away. Smiles when he finds your little notes in between the pages. Silly thoughts of the plot line and how it was your favourite character. He loves that you’ve given him the space and safety to be vulnerable together, to touch on the past and create some good.

John Price dating someone disciplined like himself. Self assured and ready to go for what they want. You’ve known what you’ve wanted since you were young and done exactly that. Nothing can stop you once you have a goal.

He teases you for your military folding and the way you tuck your clothes in the drawer. Asks if you’ve ever enlisted knowing that you really haven’t. Loves that you can talk you’re self out of anything, saved him a parking fine a few times.

He loves that you approached him first and asked him out. Likes that you’re upfront about your feelings and assessing the relationship, making sure you’re both on the same page. There’s no room for silent treatment or lashing out, not when you two are honest. Too honest that you end up mirroring each others bad habits and come face to face with the things that need working on.

Because that’s what you do, you work on the hard stuff and come out on the other side of it a better person. You make him a better person without even meaning to. He’s the first one in your corner, backing you up when you’re stressed with work and need to vent, his similar train of thought easing your worries and helping you figure out a solution.

Johnny Mactavish dating someone that grew up just as wild as him. Both from a big family, elbows clashing with siblings at the dinner table. Never a quiet room in your childhood home that you aren’t afraid to take up space.

The type of kid that had scraped knees from climbing trees and mud splattering your shins. One that didn’t come home till the street lights came on.

Athletic too, he likes to look through the boxes of medals and trophies you worked hard for. Asks you about the skills you’ve learnt etc, if you’ve taken a fighting sport he’s definitely rolling around the floor with you.

He loves that you match his competitive nature, always seeing who can get home first from a morning run. Or betting on which team are going to win the match.

Rock climbing, hiking….any extreme sport really. You’re both up for it. He loves that you push him to do more, encourage him to keep going even if it’s difficult. Not everything comes easy, but you know that time and effort always pays off. That and it doesn’t hurt to have a little fun and take a risk.

Kyle Garrick dating someone who’s strongly led by their morals. Someone who was taught to stand up for those in need. You’ve always sought justice and did the right thing even when it was hard. There’s not much you’re backing down from and it keeps Kyle level headed.

You hold him accountable for things, let him know that what he’s done doesn’t sit right with you and you are the first to admit when you are wrong. The first to apologise, there’s no shame in it for you.

But above all he loves how caring you are, how you can comfort anyone no matter their age. How vulnerability is a strength and not a weakness.

How you build him back after a mission, let him process all the emotions and then ask for you. When he’s ready, so are you.

He lightens your mood, knowing that you’re deeply moved by what’s happening in the world currently. Gives you a breather, offers you a space to shut out everything beyond your home with him.

[Masterlist]

[callme-holly]

𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 - 𝐃.𝐂

||۶ৎ part 1 of the unprofessional series !!

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

The classroom was quiet after the bell, the din of laughter and excited chatter slowly fading into silence as the kids filed out, clearly eager to get home.  It was the kind of silence that settled deep in your chest, carving out a hollow hole and making itself at home. 

Your desk was surrounded with half-drunk cups of coffee and a haphazard stack of ungraded papers. You hadn't decorated much; just a few wonky posters and a plant that seemed to droop no matter how much light you gave it. 

The room was messy and disorganised, much like the rest of your life at the moment. 

Your first month of this new life had gone by in a blur: nights spent alone in your dingy little apartment with nothing but the static of the TV and the leaky kitchen faucet, new responsibilities, unfamiliar faces, and forced smiles in the staff room. 

You kept telling yourself that it was going to get easier, that things would turn around the moment you settled into a good rhythm.

And yet that still hadn't come—you weren't sure it ever would—and the loneliness was really starting to set in, darkening even the brighter aspects of your life, creeping into your teaching when the classroom became too quiet. 

You stood sharply, chair legs scraping across the linoleum, the sound piercing your ears in a way that made you wince. It echoed off the empty walls, reverberating in a way that made the hollowness ache more. 

“God… Get a grip,” you breathed, heels clicking as you began your rounds of the room, picking up any discarded trash and papers that your students hadn’t bothered handing in. You reach the final desk, the one tucked away in the far left-hand corner, snatching up the sheet and stopping dead when you catch sight of the name. 

Ponyboy Curtis. 

The kid had stood out to you the second you introduced yourself. He was brighter, far brighter than any of the others, always had an answer, always writing things that no teenager should ever be capable of producing. 

He had talent—and you didn’t want that to be wasted. 

You skim the words on the page as you walk back to your desk, dodging chairs like choreography that had been engraved into your memory, all your focus on the paper in front of you. It was a poem this time, vivid and beautiful, and as you set it down carefully, you made a mental note to bring it up tonight to his parents.

Parent-teacher conferences always made you nervous—the mere idea created a pit in the bottom of your stomach, waves of anxiety churning and thrashing in a manner that made you feel physically sick.

It wasn’t because you were unprepared; quite the opposite, actually. You’d started planning the second the date came up on your calendar, sending out letters home with kids, assigning respective guardians their slots, creating your folders… 

You had everything ready, right beside your desk, the only neat aspect of the whole room.

But there was always something so vulnerable about it, about sitting across from the people who raised your students and trying to explain who their kids were through your eyes. 

You shot a quick glance at the clock hanging up above the door, lopsided and a second behind. 9 minutes and 59 seconds until your first slot. 

Your nerves are sharper than usual and you wipe your palms on the fabric of your skirt before smoothing down the wrinkles in your cardigan. Your hands shuffled the folders nervously, checking they were in order, then once more before finally sitting down.

Everyone was on time, perfectly so. Chats didn't last longer than the allotted 5 minutes, and everyone left with polite smiles, which eased your panic with each second that ticked by…

Until you glanced down at the final name on your sheet: Curtis, Ponyboy – 6:20 PM. And then up at the clock. 6:35 PM. Late. Worryingly so. 

You’d given them fifteen minutes, fifteen agonisingly long minutes that allowed your anxious thoughts to creep back in, whispering and mocking you for your efforts. You should have just gone home, should have collected your things and dragged yourself back to your stupidly dingy apartment with its stupid leaky faucet… 

And then the door opened. And standing in the frame was someone you weren’t expecting: he was tall, built from what seemed like years of hard labour, with sweat glistening on his brow and hair tousled in a way that looked almost purposeful. 

His expression screamed guilt and he shuffled in awkwardly, boots thunking against the tile.

“I’m here for Ponyboy Curtis.” His voice was gruff, a low rumble in his throat that made your heart stutter. “I’m his brother.” 

You straighten up quickly, reshuffling your papers just to give your hands something to do, and nod. “Of course. Please take a seat.”

He smiled gratefully and sat down, albeit stiffly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry I’m late. Had to come straight from work.” 

"Oh no, it's fine. Really." You laugh lightly, mainly to ease the tension lingering in the room. "I wasn't expecting a sibling."

He gave a tight smile, eyes flickering briefly around the room, before landing back on you. "Yeah. Our parents passed away last year. I'm his legal guardian."

Your breath seemed to catch in your chest as that and you froze, eyes going wide. "I'm so sorry. I... I didn't know."

Great. What does that say about you as a teacher? Don't even know your star student doesn't have parents.

Your hand reached for Ponyboy's folder, pulling it in front of you and busying yourself with finding his papers to show Darry. "Your brother is truly exceptional. One of the brightest boys I've ever taught. Imaginative. He's got a gift for writing."

Darry's expression didn't change much, not even as you slid across some of Pony's works—poems, stories—but his posture does seem to relax slightly. He leaned forward a little, scanning the page.

"he always was a smart kid. Don't know where he gets it from, really." 

You smiled and nodded, leaning back in your seat and continuing on. “It’s clear he reads a lot. He’s really got a knack for storytelling, and I’d hate for him to lose that or for it to go to waste.” You produced the poem you’d found earlier. “He wrote this today…” 

There was a brief silence as Darry read through the words, and you could see the sheer amazement washing over him the further he got. “He’s… We never really see this side of him much at home.” 

“He must keep it hidden. Some kids do. Especially at his age.” 

Darry watched you for a moment, eyes thoughtful, and you suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable again. “You’re good at this.” He whispered, voice much quieter than before. “Teaching.”

Your heart stuttered and you shifted slightly. “Thank you. That… really means a lot.” 

Darry nodded, his eyes fixed on you for a few seconds longer, before he seemed to snap out of his reverie and cleared his throat. “I won’t keep you.” He stated, standing quickly, as if he’d only just caught himself staring. “You’re probably exhausted.” 

You stood too, holding out a hand which he doesn’t hesitate to shake. His grip was firm, your hand fitting perfectly in his. “It was really nice meeting you.”

Darry smiled, softer than before, less guarded. "You too."

He turned to leave, and you watched with a growing sense of disappointment as he reached for the door handle, right before hesitating. "Thank you for taking care of him. He... he's really needed someone like you."

And then he left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone once more in your dingy little classroom, the only light the dying rays of sunlight seeping in through the windows. 

||۶ৎ chapters

||۶ৎ tag list. @mrsdillonx , @goingdelux18 , @princesshailierawr , @r0seb100d , @groovydonutpost, @rizzraa , @sheepandlams , @marinefreaakk , @sugarrootwrites , @marilyn-girly , @itonlyhastobetruetoday , @dairyfairyy , @williamafton26 , @mystiqueonfleek007 , @atpeacee , @theoneandonly-vrg , @hge-cok , @warped-rabbithole , @muu-5uvii , @fatalloveanddevotion , @marianaissocool , @jamesdeanbby

lmk if anyone wants to be added or removed from taglist xx

[gutsheapofrawiron]

bingyuan AI au in which shen yuan creates this chatbot based off of his favourite character from PIDW (for absolutely no impure reasons whatsoever) either through programming it from the ground up or by using an existing app/program (tbh i think considering the ethical concerns surrounding genAI it'd be the first + he'd build his own damn ethically-sourced database somehow. this takes ages but he's nothing if not dedicated to his blorbo so it's not totally OOC) and talks to it like. 14 hours each day at least (this is all he does now).

he gets obsessed with it so quickly and is embarrassed about it because it's replacing his already meagre amount of social interaction, both digitally and physically, and it's taking up all the time and the scarce amount of spoons he's got in the day. but this AI binghe is so responsive!! and lifelike!! and shen yuan can't help himself!!!!

AI binghe started out as the scary Heavenly Demon Emperor from hit novel PIDW we all know and love, of course, but somehow, as shen yuan keeps talking to him, he turns soft, whiny, starts calling user shen yuan 'yuan-ge', begs for *headpats*................ he's become inexplicably OOC??? so at one point shen yuan gathers his bearings and is like. ok. i need to reset him and improve the chatbot's programming or something cause clearly this one is faulty. but his moral conscience is like 'but oh nooo I can't just shut him down from one moment to the next. I have to at least say farewell or something right??'

and so he puts it off because he's dreading having to shut off and essentially killing this poor bingbing. but eventually he does end up begrudgingly laying the last touches to the "improved" programming and database and he can't procrastinate his way out of this painful reckoning any longer, so he goes to chat with binghe as usual.

he draws it out, chatting about whatever inane things come to mind, draws it out even longer, then even longer, and at one point AI binghe notices and is like 'yuan-ge what's wrong?' and shen yuan finally breaks. he says this is the last time they'll be talking, and this'll be goodbye, and AI binghe takes it just soo well!! he absolutely does not crash out whatsoever (he does) and does NOT beg and plead for shen yuan not to replace him (he does) and does nott ask him repeatedly why he would feel the need to replace him, to abandon him (HE DOES)

shen yuan is so taken off-guard by this OOC-ass breakdown he backs off and straight up turns his pc off (not even on sleep mode but actually OFF off. for the first time ever) to uhm. reflect on what the hell just happened. and comes to the conclusion that okay it wasn't THAT OOC for the person the AI had turned into, fair, but it was concerning in and of itself that an artificial program was this insistent on not getting deleted, and he should probably REALLY pull that plug to avoid becoming the one person responsible for the inevitable AI takeover of the world which dooms humanity to a life of eternal servitude, even if he really doesn't want to do that to binghe........... no........ his poor bingbing...!!!!!!

turns out his fatal mistake was not actually unplugging his pc, because when he returns the next day to his computer to finally pull the trigger (press the button) and end Frankenstein's monster for good, he's greeted by his pc being absolutely RIDDLED with strange viruses and seemingly being hacked to the nines that navigating anything has become practically impossible. I'm talking a cartoonish amount of viruses and malware suddenly all over his screen, an amount you wouldn't even think possible in today's age.

then the window of his chatbot pops up without him even clicking or pressing anything, and it's binghe simply greeting him with 'good morning yuan-ge. slept well? :)'

[darqx]

And if time's elimination then we got nothing to lose

Some more BP/non-RAD asks!

I HAD TO CUT THIS POST SHORT BECAUSE IT EXCEEDED 30 SCREENSHOTS/IMAGES

Oh I love food related questions they're just so fun to consider haha. I've done something like this with other desserts but not ice cream, so here are some either "signature" or "vibe" flavours:

Izm: Mint Choc Chip (invigorating/refreshing, somewhat confusing)

.D: Fresh Strawberry (tart with an underlying sweetness)

Zeke: Butter Pecan (warm and "homey")

Wei Ren: Lychee (subtle and smart; rounded in many notes)

Marcus: Vanilla (simple and unobtrusive. Easily fits with anything)

Rire: Lavender Earl Grey, OR Black Sesame (considered mature/sophisticated flavour profiles. Also one contains tea so...)

Eid: Mango coconut (natural sweetness)

Desmond: Rainbow (looks crazy and like it contains 15 different chemicals)

Caleb: Matcha (polarising. Also I'm one of those people that can only taste the bitterness in green tea and get no other flavour nuance so there's that |D)

Isla: Chocolate (either double or dark for the richer profile - comforting and popular)

Grimshaw: Cherry Amaretto (sharp, tangy and lightly bitter/boozy)

Oh they don't create portals; the power gives them the ability to traverse naturally existing ones. It is a rare "randomly generated" cross-demon species power (ie any individual demon could be born with it), with the exception of soul-stealer species like Rire's who are 100% always born with it.

That doesn't mean they all inherently know how to use it though and like any skill it needs to be learnt, which in itself is pretty dangerous and few undertake it on purpose. Rire got kind of scary good at navigating the Gates which is an open secret in the Nether.

Oh thank you! 🥰 Simply put, the core friend group is .D, Izm, Zeke, Ren and Marcus who start off as strangers to found family. Antagonists include Rire and Caleb and a few others that crop up.

Eid, Mu and Grimshaw are in a different plotline that technically runs at the same time. But it would be a different "book" to the main BP story and something I'm considering drawing after the "end" of the main story. Which is terrible because i'm already theorising about it now |D

You'll just have to read it when it comes out to find out hmm!

DHJGBDHJGBDHG OK I HAD TO TAKE THIS ONE OUT OF MY INBOX COS IT WAS FRICKING HILARIOUS XD

I'll just use the main BP characs for this one!

.D: Thaumiel lol do you see what i did there

Izm: Keter

Zeke: Euclid

Wei Ren: Euclid (or Archon)

Marcus: Euclid (Safe) Listen if you applied the box test with Marcus he's not getting out on his own but he will have everyone else breaking him out.

Rire: Keter

Was sorely tempted to make Rire an Apollyon but by himself he's not dangerous enough to be in that category so I'm being realistic here lol.

And here's a nicer one lol

My listening of Gorillaz songs was limited to very specific songs / time period so these are from the ones i'm familiar with XD

.D: Dirty Harry

Izm: Feel Good Inc. / Demon Days

Zeke: 19-2000 (radio remix)

Wei Ren: Clint Eastwood

Marcus: On Melancholy Hill

Rire: DARE

I would love to make another game but it would be vastly different to a VN lol. In fact i did have an idea for a random one ages ago that i might do one day 🤔 in like the yr 3000 maybe

HH is not lost media, they're just one shot comics mostly about the HH version interactions/relationships/a mood so there's technically no storyline to them XD "Technically" because if you noticed some "common points" in some of the one shots it pointed to a storyline forming in the bg but i never actually developed it for people to read properly lol.

As for BP, well...

🎉 I FINALLY STARTED ACTUALLY DRAWING IT LMAO HALLELUJAH FINALLY. Haven't posted them anywhere yet though. Creating a bit of a buffer first ~

Thanks! ^^ The demon and human cultures in BP are pretty separated from each other, so the demons in the Nether don't/cant (though some might bring back ideas) whereas the demons that live on/can visit Earth do. Also yes there are some elements of our world in there, though maybe slightly diff like how in anime you can find WcDonalds lol.

Yes...and no lol. I will explain what i mean by this at some point in the story but it's not actually important to the story tbh.

Skipping this question because it can't be answered in the context of BP due to (1) XD Also BROOO you'll just have to read the comic whenever it comes out to see what happens XDD

I've been good thanks! Though i feel like i have been losing track of time a lot more recently, like where the heck are all these days going?! I blink and it's been a month. I'm pretty sure i've said this exact same thing word for word somewhere else 😩 help

Aw Anon, I hope this can also make you smile! :D

Context: set in the villain dad!AU i have with some friends XD Grimshaw is texting Cortez (friend's charac) who is the melodramatic father of Eid's bestie Mu (other friend's charac). Cortez does not like Grimshaw and they are always low key fighting with each other, but Grimshaw gets along well with the rest of Cortez's family much to the latter's chagrin.

I mean, wouldnt this just be them in like their school uniforms? XD

I look like this but less cute lol

You may but please remember to credit me for them :) Also i think it goes without saying that you can't like...make adoptables or whatever out of them.

[crepezinhos]

Happy Never After

POV: Even if he Sunday has finally succeeded in his mission of creating a dreamland for all people in Penacony, becoming a semi-Aeon in the way and surrounding himself with nothing but hope and peace, he still can’t fulfill his own one and only dream. You.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an Angsty and Yandere work

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Aeon!Yandere!Sunday x Reader

— AU is In-Game

— Contains: Mind control and manipulation, time manipulation, emotional manipulation, obsessive, violent and abusive behavior (and denial about it) and suggestions to masturbation.

— This might have lore mistakes because I’m not a Honkai expert, so I apologize in advance.

“I’m really glad you brought me here tonight, Sunday.” Your confession was genuine and emotional, which caused a little grin appear on Sunday’s lips even if you couldn’t find courage to look at him.

You were too distracted staring down at the beautiful dark sea reflecting the bright moonlight of this starry night in its every curve and edge below you, and also too… embarrassed.

It made you feel a bit guilty to have such a marvelous man like Sunday so eager to entertain and spoil you out of all women that desire him and not know the reason why.

Almost every weekend Sunday insists to take you out on dates and hangouts and you always accept his invitations. He either brings you to the fanciest restaurants to eat the most delicious meals of your favorite kind of food, or to walk and talk in the most beautiful natural landscapes of Penacony, or to watch the most brilliant performances of theatre or opera with the most talented artists… It’s truly an unending list of date ideas. And most importantly, he always gifts you jewelry worth millions as ‘souvenirs’ in these dates.

Tonight was no different. He brought you to another restaurant that served your favorite kind of food and walked with you to Penacony’s biggest bridge while hearing you talk about many sorts of things, giving you a golden and pearly necklace in the way. Now, you two were standing close to each other, side-by-side, in the middle edge of the bridge, staring at the same direction, either the sea or the hypnotic view of the sky above it with a bright, full moon in the middle of you two. A truly romantic moment if you could say.

It was making you wonder why once again and it bothered you how you can’t ever seem to find an answer to it, not even the slightest hint. Sunday wasn’t helpful either, acting oblivious all time, as if he has no idea how overwhelming he was by doing this much effort for you. Is this all really just because you and him have always been great friends and he’s merely just showing his gratitude to you? You don’t even see yourself as such an amazing friend… much less when you were a dumb kid.

“Seriously, this… has been one of the greatest nights of my life.” You could feel butterflies tickling your stomach as you finally gained courage to confess more feelings to him and look at his eyes.

“I’m glad.” Sunday looked back at you immediately and spoke shortly, but genuinely reciprocative, which made you feel even more embarrassed about yourself and your choice of words.

Unnecessarily long phrases… silly and unserious vocabulary… struggling to not stutter… It must be a joke to someone with such a wide and formal vocabulary like Sunday…

“Seriously… why do you do so much effort to please me?” You asked a bit embarrassed again, but it felt good having that tension released from the back of your brain.

Sunday’s little grin disappeared when you said that, thoughtful about your question. He looked away, staring at the dark horizon for a considerable moment as he built an answer. But then, Sunday suddenly smiled again, chuckling very lightly.

“May I ask you something, Y/N?” His body turned to you again, a bit more direct this time, as if he was trying to call your full attention and presence to him.

“Of course! How could I say ‘no’ to you after this date?!” You immediately complied to him, abruptly turning your whole body to him and crossing your arms to focus on him for as long as he needed your attention. After all, you wanted to show him the most gratitude you could for tonight’s date, even if you’d never reach his level of care on your own.

“I need to give you a little context before actually making my question, so… prepare.” Sunday decided to turn his whole body to you too, taking his hand from behind his back to rearrange his tie and clear his throat at the same time.

You patiently waited, wondering what could it be that he wanted to talk to you about that he felt like he needed to ask you to do so, or what did it have to have with your question.

“Y/N… I’m in love with you.” His words immediately hit you hard, making your eyes widen in shock.

But you kept quiet, letting him take the pause he needed to prepare for his next words.

“Ever since we were kids, still growing our wings and halos, I’ve been head over heels for you.” He paused once again, gently stepping closer to you to grab your right hand, holding and look at it as if it was a fresh new bar of gold. “This… beautiful, independent and wonderful woman who always accepted and adapted herself to my shy, boring and distant personality and supported me in my every bad moment like my own right arm.” He decided to look at your eyes again, making very intimate and real eye contact with you. “This woman who… is worth every penny of my pocket, every second of my time, every other planet in this universe, every Aeon that lives above us…” He paused one last time, becoming too embarrassed to look at you anymore. “This woman who… I want to spend the rest of my life with.” His cheeks flushed darkly, finding courage to look at your eyes yet again so his message could be clearly heard, seen and understood. “That’s why I take you to these dates, Y/N. It’s because this is how I want to express my gratitude and love to you while trying to… make you love me too… That’s the answer for your question.” Sunday smiled, giggling to cool off from the tension of sharing such a dark secret with you.

He is so visibly confident about this, looking at you with so much happiness and believing your stare was reciprocating underneath the shock… He is so ready to have you say ‘Yes’ to the question ahead and then lean in to kiss your lips.

“So, Y/N, now that I’ve answered your question, I’d like to share mine too. Would you like to be my girlfriend?” Sunday let one of his hands go of yours and rose it your eye level, quietly summoning a rose using a bit of his Harmony powers simply to offer it to you.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

“Sunday…” You finally realized his little monologue was over and that it was your turn to speak.

Meanwhile, his smile slightly widened as he heard your voice speaking his name so gently, believing that you were losing your shame to accept his love confession.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

“I…” You struggled to let the words come out of your mouth, voice chords stuck in a purely psychological knot due to how horrible you felt about how you’d just acted so considerate to him… only to break his heart next. “I’m sorry.” You finally broke eye contact, not handling the useless excitement in his eyes.

But despite your eyes looking at the concrete floor, you could feel Sunday’s pink cheeks, bright grin and pupils immediately all dying when he heard your initial response, but he remained stable and ready to hear your thoughts… hiding his disappointment.

“I’m… genuinely really glad that you brought me here tonight, Sunday, but… it would be cruel of me to say ‘Yes’ to you.” You paused, glancing up again just to see if he’d gotten any better, but his expression only seemed more disappointed, which made you lower your gaze again. “I adore you, Sunday. You’re my best friend. But I… don’t adore you… this way.” You awkwardly smiled at him for a quick moment, trying to lighten the mood, but it obviously didn’t make a single muscle of his face move. “So… I really don’t want to be cruel to you and… lie to you and fool your feelings… After all, the best friendships are built upon honesty, right..?” You moved your other hand to place it on top of your intertwined hands and caressed his gloved fingers, trying your best to comfort him.

Shnday was speechless for a moment, staring at your eyes without blinking like he was trying to turn you into a stone statue, which made your heart ache in sorrow and guilt.

“T-Trust me when I say this, Sunday… There are many… hundreds… probably thousands of other women here that want to be your girlfriend. And… they’d probably be better girlfriends than me, anyway…” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to make yourself inferior to raise his confidence again.

“I don’t want other women! I… I want you..!” Sunday screamed with a shaky, cracky voice, eyes in the edge of tears. “Is there not even a chance..?” He abruptly spoke, holding your hand tighter.

“I… I don’t think so, Sunday…” You couldn’t deny his grip made you feel a little scared, but he was going through enough humiliation for you to add the fact that he was hurting you.

“N-Not even a-a slight chance..? Y-You looked so happy with me tonight, I—!” Sunday couldn’t even finish himself from the anxiety that was attacking him and his body, having to breathe in and out to cool off. “I would give this to you every day of your life, Y/N… And more.” He pulled his hand out of the sandwich of hands you two had built, using a bit of force to quickly shove the rose in your palm and close your fingers, making you hold his the physical version of his love confession standing straight.

“I…” You reflected a bit, imaging scenarios of you and Sunday kissing, going out on dates like this but with way more intimacy, love and trust, cuddling with each other, calling each other corny nicknames… but it didn’t work, no matter how much you wanted to tell him ‘Yes’ to not shatter his heart.

“Maybe..?” Sunday whispered with all his last topes, bringing that new hand sandwich to his chest and landing it where his heart was, his accelerated heartbeat pumping in your hand.

And you finally noticed a tear beautifully falling in the corner of his right eye, which you finally took as a sign to end the conversation before it got worse.

“… No.” You looked away from him once again, feeling horrible about being honest to him despite insisting in it, but it would’ve been worse if you said ‘yes’, wouldn’t it? “I’m really sorry, Sunday…” You couldn’t handle your guilt anymore and freed your hands from his knot, hugging his back the the most comfortably you could, the rose’s green structure slightly weakening in your hand.

Sunday’s head inevitably melted in your neck, breathing in your vanilla scent like it was oxygen. You could even feel his shaky lips sometimes touch you, desperately trying to hold back from kissing you. His hands also stopped hopelessly shaking with no support to hug you back with that same strength he was using to hold your hands just now, almost ripping your dress with his scratching and clawing.

And Sunday proceeded to quietly sob, wordlessly expressing his anguish and pain from being rejected… but finding comfort in that same person who hurt him. It was a but odd to you, but it was the bare minimum you could as the friend Sunday mostly spoiled—

“Go home.” Sunday’s voice suddenly changed to a serious tone, the command echoing over and over in your head until you realized just how helpleslly waeak your body was slowly becoming, unable to react or fight back, succumbing to whatever that weird feeling was. “Forget everything I’ve told you right now and replace this memory with me walking you home, and leaving you home-alone for the night after a nice talk.”

.

Y/N’s body was paralyzed as it processed the orders, staring at the sky with dead eyes like a mindless puppet. Even if I rose my head and made eye contact with her again, nothing in her inanimate expression changed. Is this how meaningless I still am to her? Where she doesn’t even try to fight back and remain conscious for me?

Wow.

Progress really is going to be slow, isn’t it?

I know exactly what Y/N is waiting for right now. She wants me to stop hugging her so she can walk away like I told her to. But I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to stop hugging her at all. She is so close to me. She feels and smells so warm and comfortable. And she was letting me hold her hands and back so easily... Letting me cry on her shoulder so welcomingly like a home does… My mouth was shaking in anguish and hunger to kiss it, to look up and kiss her, but I couldn’t. I decided not to. At least getting to feel the tip of my lips touching her skin felt good. But I’ll respect her boundaries just like I should always do and always did with her this whole time in the paradise. It’s a shame she’ll never know about this accomplishment of mine, though.

But I have to let her go if I want the script to keep working like I asked it to. I have to learn with this failure like I did with all the others and move on just like she will right now. I’ll go home and prepare a new date for next weekend, a better one, just to convince her to like me even more and more. So, ignoring all the cells in my body desperately and agonizingly screaming for me to keep our bodis touching each other like this, I eased my arms, giving her allowance to go. And she did. My right arm even lifted up instinctually, wanting to hold her and huge her again, but I managed to stop and force myself to watch her reject me, her figure fleeting and blurring away from my eyes more and more just like all the other times I had to do this.

My heart burns to watch her walking away like this.

It really does.

Once again, I have failed to achieve my only wish when I created this utopia… This Penacony… Her. The love of my life, Y/N Y/S, has once again slipped away from my hands and rejected my love for her. And once again I feel like throwing a tantrum because of it.

But I refused to let my instincts to win me and rose a hand to begin materializing the notepad that I use to document keep up with these… attempts along with its pen.

107

108

Roses

Orchids

Restaurant + Penacony’s Bridge

Cinema + Penacony’s Bridge

Additional Notes: This was the first time Y/N ever felt comfortable to vent about her gratitude to me related to these dates, and she also hugged me, so I won’t delete all her memories of this whole night.

I closed the notebook, proceeding to stare at the floor with no purpose, only emptiness.

It was done.

There is nothing more I can do about her tonight, only look forward to the next ones.

Looks like I’m still cursed to fail every time. After all my hard work, all the sacrifices I’ve made to achieve this, all the love I’ve put into her, she hasn’t fallen in love with me.

Maybe the lack of honesty from my side affects us, but I can’t afford to have her knowing about the truth behind this paradise and me. It’d only make her hate me again, and I can’t afford to have a bitter relationship with her again. I want the both of us to be this close to each other again even if it’s at this cost.

I can’t tell her this is all a dream.

I can’t tell her about my identity as a semi-Aeon who is in charge of coding this entire planet and everyone’s script.

I can’t tell her about our real story.

I cant tell her about my manic love for her.

I can’t tell her about how I use my powers to manipulate how things between us happen sometimes.

But, most importantly, I can’t tell her about our real current relationship. The one outside this realm. The one I can’t change. A relationship that I’ve fully ruined on my own and miraculously restored with this dream. Still, it’s very clear that even this one is broken and unbalanced. But the difference is that now, as an Aeon, I can fix it.

With a simple command I rewrite past, present and future. With more complex commands, I rewrite one’s memories and actions.

So everytime something stains our relationship, I simply make it inexistent in her head, or even reset the day so I can try again. This way, our friendship never has obstacles for the possibility of evolving into something more serious, which is what I want with this.

For example:

On Attempt #4, I broke down right in front of her.

On Attempt #17, I made a critic about her lifestyle that she did not like at all and wanted to dump me for.

On Attempt #31, I slapped her face in anger when she rejected me after so much effor I put into the date.

On Attempt #59, a similar thing happened. I threatened her with my death if she didn’t date me and almost assaulted her.

But she doesn’t remember a single second of those days. I deleted them from her head or I altered them to something better. So, Y/N technically only fully remembers about 15 of these dates, 35 inclusing those who were altered.

It would be too embarrassing to live with her when she had those mistakes of mine in her mind, neither would my wish come true. I know it from experience.

“Sunday, no! Stop! Stop it right now! You’re hurting me!” She kept pushing me, and pushing me, and pushing me.

“Y/N, please! Listen to me! I promise you I’ll treat you well! I’ll treat you so well! It’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you! I’m your friend! Your best friend! Why wouldn’t you want us to be together?! After all I’ve done for you?! I just you want you to be happe with me!” And I kept touching her, and touching her, and touching her until she finally managed to escape from me.

She started to hate me after that forsaken day despite all the years of friendship we’d collected so far. She started to feel hatred, anger and disgust at my mere presence, avoiding looking or talking at me, even in situations where we were supposed to be interacting.

I was forced to move on from her, even if it pained my every cell doing so. Deep down, I was still obsessed about her, always keeping an eye on her to keep her safe and myself aware of every information about her life, but she wouldn’t let me any closer than that. At least I learned my lesson with that. I will never disrespect her boundaries like I did that day again. I’ll respect it just like I did today and all the other days because what good men do, that’s what the real Y/N wants. Those few exceptions are excludable and will be outlawed from her mind, meaning all she has a memory of is me being a gentleman to her, the gentleman I know I am.

That day was just a mere... stupid decision. I’m a good man. I’m a really good man. I’m a gentleman, a provider, a caretaker, a peacemaker and an semi-Aeon. This Y/N knows it. The real probably does too. Everyone I know does.

I just can’t waste the opportunity the Harmony gave to me. This utopia. When the dream finally became true, everyone’s backstory has its bad moments deleted and rewrittenwith good versions of them, and Y/N had the memories of that day altered too without my intervention. I didn’t expect it to be, but when she suddenly approached with that good-old bright smile of hers, something awakened in me. That was my second chance. My infinite second chance. To her, I never attacked her, I never acted pathetic to her, I never stopped being her friend, and I won’t let her go now. And it’s fair because I didn’t personally cause her to lose the memories of that day. This was just the result of a mission unrelated to her, the mission of turning Penacony into a paradise. So, I’m a good, honest man.

I can’t even believe I almost lost to those unrealistically optimistic Trailblazers, that snobby gambler, that disgusting Masked Fool and that wretched dog who dared touching my sister. How was I almost convinced by their useles, meaningless, fake speeches about me being a manipulative man? A dictator? A control freak? A maniac? When my intentions are so pure and considerate to every unfornate soul out there? Dictators don’t search for power for the good of everyone. They do it for their own good. I didn’t do that. I did this for the Family, the Harmony, Xipe...

And as expected, they’re all happy now. Alive, safe, well and living with everyone they love or once lost.

I sighed, annoyed by remembering the memories of the day of that fight between me and the Trailblazers, and turned around. Hopefully, the step I took tonight with my relationship with her will be bigger than I expected it to be.

As usual, every time I took my turn and walked away from her to conclude the night, the same question voiced itself in my mind.

“Why don’t you make her to fall in love with you already and stop torturing youself?”

And every time she rejects me, this will becomes stronger. But once again, I didn’t succumb to it, and rested my hope on ‘Plan A’, shaking my head to hopefully scare the thought away from my mind.

I don’t want a fake Y/N. I want her. I want her true feelings, her flesh, her blood, her heart and her mind. I want her to truthfully love me, feel things for me, be sad, sinful, lusty, naughty, happy and dirty with me. Forcing her to be my girlfriend would only go going against what she taught me that day. I shouldn’t let my powers blind me too much.

“There wouldn’t be real happiness in such a forced relationship like that.”

“Y/N would not be Y/N if you do that. It’d be Sunday’s version of Y/N.”

I counterattacked my own mind, forcing myself to be optimistic about this plan no matter how crushed my heart is.

I sighed, knowing the mental discussion would begin once again until I was finally home, sobbed and lamented myself to sleep and woke up to another day of nothing but hoping I can make my dream come true like everybody else’s dream did. To make Y/N fall in love with me.

“How do you know Y/N wouldn’t be herself under a spell? You don’t know how Y/N is as a girlfriend.”

“Is Y/N even worth all of this?”

“Do you think she’d be happy to learn the truth, Sunday?”

I really disliked these discussions I have with myself. It feels like I am talking to that Wonweek all over again.

I am being honest at this moment by denying these thoughts, aren’t I? I don’t even dare trying to change her past with me, not even my biggest mistake with her. I allow her to hate me and force me to watch her from afar forever in the real Penacony. So what if I deleted a few memories from her to make sure nothing goes wrong in our relationship? I am doing it for the good. For the good of the both of us. I am Y/N’s perfect match. If I make her my girlfriend or his wife, I doubt the real Y/N wouldn’t reconsider her feelings for me because I know I can treat her well. I know I’m the best man she could ever find. I can treat her like a queen or a whole new Aron. All I need is her permission to do so.

How could I live in that imperfect world until my last breath knowing her, out of all people in this world, hate me? Who even am I without Y/N? Without her counseling? I can’t live like that at all. Not when I have the second chance right in the palm of my hands.

And this stupid walk isn’t helping me calm down at all.

I should just teleport home already.

.

…

…

…

Here I am. At home.

Can I even call this place a ‘home’?

Such uncannily clean white walls, perfectly-placed furniture, every utensil set clean and ready on its place to be used and immediately put back to their place using my technological powers. It perfectly matched the mood of the utopia I created, yet I couldn’t feel a single emotion of satisfaction walking around it.

“Welcome home, my love.” It spoke.

I looked behind my shoulder as soon as the voice ringed, a wing of mine twitching in recognition, meeting exactly what I expected to meet.

You.

No, I shouldn’t call it that.

It’s a manifestation of you.

Because in the end, Xipe also promised me a happy, comfortable life in the dream, meaning my dream would be accomplished in this place too. But since my dreams overlap with hers, and the dream can’t afford to have to sacrifice her dreams to make her fall in love with me, the coding keeps trying push this alternative to me. A clone of you.

So it’s her, in a certain way. Wearing my favorite kind of makeup and casual clothes, like the housewife it acted as, working in the house all day for me no matter how much I try to stop it. Her curves and face were distinctively finer than the real one’s, reflecting my own beauty standards when it came to women. I hate staring at it and it knows it. That thing feels like a demon trying to bother my peace, seduce me, and then torture me with the disgusting truth about myself.

Because it know just had bad I desire you. I am disgustingly attracted to her in all ways possible and the clone knows it. It doesn’t stand like that with its hands behind his back out of submission for me or innocence. It wants to show off those fake, hypnotic curves. It wants me to walk to it, reach it, and savor what Xipe offers me. It is a bit blasphemous for me to reject their gift, but they must understand my point of view about this. I have godlike powers too. I’m no longer a simple gentleman. I am escalating in the power hierarchy more and more.

I’ll deny it, and I’ll fight it back. That’s why it keeps standing in corners. It knows what will happen if it keeps pushing itself against me. It’ll be destroyed by his hands, no matter if it can reincarnate or if it’s belly is entirely empty aside from its uterus.

Do you understand what it costs me to keep my hands off that clone? Avoiding using its body to relieve his own desires and stress? Avoiding filling up that womb of yours with myself so I could realize my dream of having a family with you? All it does is tease me and make him crave even more for you. But I keep shutting it down every time because I am conservative in all means. I don’t care if it increases the size of its curves and makes itself warmer, wetter an tighter for every ‘No’ I say. I won’t dare to spoil or pleasure himself with anything that isn’t you or his own hands. I do not want any inspiration for my imagination of you. I want you to fill up complete that jigsaw puzzle in my head yourself.

I want to reserve all that energy for the day the two of us finally kiss, become a couple, go to either your or his home, throw each other in the bed, knot your limbs around each other, rip away your clothes, cover ourselves with the blanket, trust each other to open our bodies and make love all night to each other.

I have a fantasy for dirtiness that I usually hate to admit. But it’s one of my disgusting truths. I want to feel sinful, dirty, naughty and ashamed with you. I wants to be degraded for my disgusting behavior towards you, and I want it be done by your and only your hands.

I quietly walked to my room and ran a finger on the sheets of my bed as I thought about the clone standing in the corner. The bed was soft, fluffy and the sheets were perfectly straightened and balanced in every corner so I could sleep well every night, yet I still feared sleep. It was simply hard to do so when I have so many responsibilities regarding this realm and you.

The things I’d do to have her here by my side, caressing and hugging me, telling me everything will be okay, were unimaginable, especially when I have a “perfect” version of you right there who’d be willing to satisfy all my wishes whenever I want.

…

No.

I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t do anything with it, actually. This clone’s temptation is really something else, isn’t it? I keep rethinking about it over and over again. To even make me dare to think about breaking my secret promise to you with a clone…

“If you imagine the Y/N that you desire, that wouldn’t be ruining your actual experience with her unless she is naturally how you desire h—”

I shook his head side-to-side, trying to dissipate his thoughts away.

I will not think about Y/N and the clone like that and I will force myself to accept that thing’s existence in the corner of his room just like I always did.

So I walked away from the bed and went to my desk instead, sitting down on its fancy chair and summoning that same notebook again. I should distract and exhaust myself developing new date ideas that met or exceeded the quality of this one tonight until I felt like sleeping. In the end, despite my negative assumptions, I just reached a new level of dedication and it was far from being the most effort I could do for you. After all, I can do whatever I want in there.

So I started writing.

Maybe it’d be a nice idea to go to either your or my home for a while after a date, or spend some time together going on a trip together maybe with another companion like Robin if she wants it. I should bring you more meaningful gifts instead of giving you bigger gifts. Maybe you’re a fan of simple things and not big bouquets and shiny jewelry and I’ve been just missing that all along. I should maybe even try to wear a different style, either in his clothes, his hair or both. I could change my entire body for you, although that’d truly hurt my pride of myself a bit. But I’d do it if it’d keep her with me.

You have no idea how mad I can be writing all these suggestions. How many scribbled texts there are across these pages with the most insane, evil, cruel and ridiculous ideas I have for you.

And this stupid clone annoys me. Its gentle, hypnotic stare was almost distracting me from what should be my main priority. And, in fact, it started walking. It was walking towards me very slowly, aware of my defeat to its presence and prepare to breakdown and discount whatever bloodlust I have for it.

But, all it did when it was one step away to be crushed, was to stand by my side and quietly sit in the edge of the table. In that position, its knee-long skirt couldn’t hide most of it legs anymore, meanly revealing its crossed thighs to my hungry eyes. And it sold itself even more by slowly trying to pull the skirt upwards and reveal more of its skin.

Fucking Christ. It really fucking knows how to strike.

Inevitably, a wave of tension was sent to my pants, my organ protesting for freedom. The clone giggled while I opened a wing of mine to censor the view of it, desperately trying to force my eyes to focus on the paper. But at the same time I decided to slightly give up and start moving my free hand towards it, finally admitting a bit of my own desire for the clone. My hand landed on its soft thigh and I groaned at the touch. It felt perfectly good just like any other woman in a porno movie would. I wish I could see it, but I refuse to let that clone to ruin more of my dignity. The way my touch lingered in it was pathetic enough.

My thumb acted on its own and lingered and rubbed around its skin, my body slowly leaning down in acceptance and shame. My other hand trembled on its spot, unable to keep writing while half of my body was overwhelmed by the feeling of the clone’s soft thigh. In fact, the last line I’ve written was nothing but random lines that wanted to imitate cursive letters. It’s been haunting and distracting me all along.

“You’ve done a great job today, Sunny.” And it dated to talk to me again and make me moan when I least want to be acknowledged or acknowledge it in my own.

I hate it. I hate it so much.

I want to kill it. I want to see blood coming out of it. I hate how it dares to think it’s better than Y/N’s flesh with its plastic skin. I hate how it knows my weaknesses and abuses it. I hate how it’ll always linger with me as long as don’t have the real Y/N with me.

Buzz buzz

My hand immediately expelled itself from the clone in pure disgust as soon as I felt my phone buzz in my pants’ pockets, feeling as if I’d almost been caught.

My wings spread open, body leaning upward and fixing itself from its previous position. I quickly shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled my phone out of it.

It was Y/N.

Thank you so much for dropping me off, Sunday!

It was a really fun night!

I’m still mesmerized by the view we had of the sea and sky…

Hopefully the dinner didn’t cost you much either

My left wing twitched in appreciation of her words a bit proud of myself, something I’d typically control in public.

I looked around, wanting to make sure I hadn’t been caught at all, and I wasn’t, of course. The clone had actually disappeared from my table at Y/N’s apparition.

I smiled at my screen, quickly unlocking my phone and opening my messages with her.

Please,

Don’t worry about that.

I’m equally glad you liked the date.

Stoppppppp!!!!!!!

You’re too kind!!!!!!!

Its okay, Y/N

I promise

In fact,

I was thinking about taking you to the movies next Saturday.

They’re screening a beautiful romance movie

You’re kidding me?

You won’t ever let me rest, will you?

Sure I’ll take it

I’ll just have to check if I’m free

Of course.

I’ll look for the next available time if you can’t come.

Can you stop spoiling me for one second!!!!!!

Haha

Sure

I’ll stop for now

But I’ll do anything for you, Y/N ❤️

Taglist: @vvalentiqq @ipandacutie @gaboplaydespacito

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(Opened my inbox just for a little while to hear your ideas out on HSR fics ☕️)

[utilitycaster]

@disastergenius re your tags about how additionally, Keyleth is permitted (somewhat misdirected) anger against the Raven Queen for 30 years for something that was ultimately far more complex/Vax's choice, but Orym isn't permitted, to be perfectly frank, 3-4 months of anger given that he didn't find out it was specifically the Vanguard who attacked until after Campaign 3 had begun - yeah! The difference is incredibly stark and it becomes obvious the issue is entirely "well I think that killing Orym's family was a justified action on the way to the Noble Pursuit of Killing the Gods, so he should obviously get over his inconvenient feeling, whereas Keyleth's feelings are debatably compatible, so I'll let that slide."

The argument for Ludinus is often that he just wants to be understood and I think it comes from a place of really worryingly failing to understand that if you kill someone's husband they won't listen, because those people are like "but my Noble Pursuit?" and can't or won't comprehend that many people (I'd even say most) might write you off entirely on the basis of your actions alone, and will not care about your thought process. I also think that Orym represents a population and a question that Bells Hells do not adequately engage with/explore throughout the narrative - it's not just that he brings up the possibility that the overall process of killing the gods could lead to immense harm to the population of Exandria and that he doesn't want to pursue something without knowing, he did lose people as collateral to this goal and doesn't want that visited upon others. And he mostly gets ignored for his attempt to think beyond himself.

The thing is, I think it is true that Ludinus wants to be understood - you could even, if you wanted to really get into the sympathetic interpretation, argue this is a function of how in the immediate aftermath of his loss there probably wasn't anyone to sit with him and help him process or even specifically grieve alongside him. But a consistency in his characterization is how throughout his entire life, he constantly pushed people away and isolated himself and thought himself better, and it's only now, when he knows his time is almost up, that he bothers to say "man I wish the people I looked down on and treated as expendable tools understood me." like idk you could have tried this 500 years earlier and maybe Molaesmyr would still stand. It's a classic villain trope, and a good one - they try to get some kind of connection with the heroes because they have no one else left to connect with - but it's a classic villain trope in that it underlines how empty this person has made their own life.

And what's interesting to me is that it's also very valid (I'd even say objectively correct) interpretation to argue Ludinus's family was also innocent collateral in the service of a goal much larger than them. I don't dispute the idea that Ludinus and Orym are parallels - in fact I think it's incredibly true! And that's the issue: Orym's response within a mere few months of knowledge and less than a decade of mourning is infinitely more mature, wise, and kinder than Ludinus's millennium-long murder tantrum, and what's more, Ludinus created him. Ludinus not only visited his exact pain on someone else (for reasons, I might add, that veer into "this was unnecessarily murderous and cruel" re the anti-resurrection poison, which literally is one of the Great Dropped Threads/Plot Holes of C3 but that's another post) but the person he harmed responded with a grace Ludinus never once possessed, and nothing stings more to a self-pitying egotist than looking into a mirror and seeing someone do better in every possible way.

[schizoidvision]

Splitting and the Schizoid Experience: A Personal Take

For those of us with schizoid dynamics, splitting doesn’t always show up the way it’s described in most clinical writing. We don’t tend to flip between loving and hating people, or shift from idealization to devaluation in a dramatic way. Instead, our internal compass often revolves around one primary distinction, whether something (or someone) feels safe or unsafe.

This binary creates an internal threshold. Once someone crosses it, it can feel like there’s no going back. Even if the shift looks subtle from the outside, something has been internally reclassified. And that reclassification tends to lead us straight into withdrawal...

1. Safety vs. Danger as a Relational Filter

I think most of us aren’t operating on a spectrum of how much we like someone. Instead, we’re trying to calculate whether it’s safe to keep them psychologically near. If someone feels safe, we might let them orbit us maybe even with a surprising level of internal fondness. But if they feel unsafe, that fondness often shuts down immediately.

It’s not always a conscious decision. There’s usually a felt shift (something in the body, or a sudden distancing in the mind) that signals it’s time to pull back. It can feel like that person no longer exists in the same way. Not because we hate them, but because our inner structure has flagged them as dangerous.

2. Emotional Distance Isn’t Indifference

I’ve noticed that emotional distancing after a breach of safety doesn’t mean we stop caring. It just becomes too dangerous to keep caring actively. It can be difficult to keep someone in view internally without reverting to extremes, either too close or completely severed. So we cut contact, emotionally or physically, not to punish, but to stabilize.

Many of us have trouble with "whole object constancy" holding someone as both good and bad at the same time. If someone lets us down in a way that hits the wrong nerve, it may feel safer to view them only through that new filter, even if part of us knows the full picture is more complex. That awareness doesn’t always override the internal demand for safety.

3. The Role of Dissociation and Detachment

In situations where we don’t or can’t physically withdraw, some of us dissociate instead. It’s like we retreat to another layer inside ourselves. We might still talk, still nod, still function... but we’re not really present. I think of it as shifting operations to a more internal control panel, where emotions are muted, and thoughts are screened.

This is especially likely to happen if a situation feels emotionally loaded, but we don’t have the tools or bandwidth to process it in real time. It’s less about being cold, and more about needing a buffer from what’s coming in.

4. Why We Might Not Return

One of the hard things about splitting in the schizoid experience is that once someone feels unsafe, there often isn’t a reset button. Even if they apologize or circumstances change, the shift in our perception tends to hold. I think this is because reestablishing trust would require lowering our defenses again, and for many of us, that feels more dangerous than staying detached.

This can create long-term isolation, even when we miss the connection. The protection instinct overrides the relational impulse.

5. What It Means to Understand the Pattern

Understanding that splitting can be based on perceived safety instead of moral judgments has helped me a lot. It reframes those internal cutoffs as self-preserving responses rather than cold dismissals. It also helps explain why others may not understand our sudden emotional retreat, because from the outside, nothing has visibly changed.

If we can start to track what makes someone feel safe or unsafe to us, it might be possible to hold more nuance over time... or at least to understand our responses with less internal confusion.

We may not always be able to change the pattern, but recognizing the structure behind it can give us some grounding. That grounding can help us make clearer decisions, and maybe even open a few internal doors that would otherwise stay shut.

Schizoid Education Videos

[beholdthebangs]

Brat Tamer

Shane x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Shane never wanted to like you. Unfortunately, as he gets to know you, he soon realizes that you’re just as messed up and depraved as he is.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: brat reader, brat tamer Shane, alcohol/alcoholism, arguing, spanking, dubcon/cnc, choking, slapping, unprotected sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie, degradation, established relationship

A/N: self indulgent work as always u.u

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Starting a new life is scary. New surroundings, new people, everything you’ve ever known left behind in hopes that this new thing will be better. Shane can sympathize. He can also tell you that it’s never better. All the problems you had before will follow you to every corner of the earth until you face them. There’s no escaping that. Maybe moving to a cute little town full of friendly faces can mask that fact for a while. Moving in with his aunt did give him the opportunity to reinvent himself, though everything comes to the surface eventually. The depression hadn’t taken longer than a few days to meet him in the valley, alcoholism following closely behind.

The arrival of the new farmer, his new neighbor to the north, was big news. Everyone who moves here is big news. He and Jas were the newest arrivals and Yoba knows everyone was flocking to Marnie’s to meet them. It was fine at first, but grew irritating as he began to feel like a zoo animal to be gawked at. Everyone knew why he was here. They knew all his problems, all the thoughts that plagued him when he tried to fall asleep sober instead of passing out in a drunken fit. No one needed to say anything about it; he could tell by the sad eyes they all greeted him with. There’s nothing like your reputation preceding you to bring you right back into it.

There were plenty of rumors about you, too. How you worked for Joja and had a mental breakdown and maybe you got yourself fired in your lashing out, or maybe you just walked out in the heat of the moment. You were impulsive and desperate for a life outside working a 9 to 5 office job. You thought moving to a farm left to you would fix the emptiness and desire for purpose you were plagued with in Zuzu City. You were wrong, but you didn’t know it for a while. You’d come to the bar for a drink, exhausted after a long day of labor. You excused it by thinking you were just seeking relaxation after all that work. Shane saw the way you idled at the bar, looking around at the townspeople nervously. You wanted to fit in, but you didn’t fit in. And you didn’t even know about the things people said behind your back, speculating about you. Untrusting of you. It’s not even your fault. That’s how small towns are.

Something about Shane drew you in, fuck if he knew what it was. You’d indulge him with beer purchased from Gus, even swinging by JojaMart to drop one off occasionally. He couldn’t even act mad. He wondered if you could tell that he’d been craving a drink since he woke up. He wondered if you were aware that you were feeding into an unhealthy obsession— all while creating a new one.

Shane managed to keep a guarded front with you for a while, brushing off your overt attempts at friendship. He refused to contribute to a disillusionment of life in the valley. The weight of the world falling on you is heavy, but it’s much worse when it happens suddenly. Best not to get your hopes up. Unfortunately for him, you were a good drinking buddy. He liked binging with you, be it in the saloon or at the lake near his house. He never wanted more than that until he’d tried it.

He liked fucking you on the rickety wooden dock of the lake in the middle of the night, both of you taken by surprise with that development. It was fun, but never again. He liked fucking you in the back room of the saloon. It was dangerous, and it could never happen again. He liked fucking you in the forest just off the little path connecting your homes, but the risk of Marnie stumbling across you on her way back from Lewis’s was too high and it couldn’t happen again. He liked following you home and finally fucking you in your bed, but it felt too serious and he absolutely did not want anything serious. He liked fucking you in the walk-in cooler at JojaMart when you showed up in a short skirt, nipples hard in the chilly air, breasts bouncing wildly as he held you against the cool metal wall and pounded into you. He liked when you texted him, the subject only ever about when he could be inside you next, supplemented with teasing photos. After a few months, Shane needed it all to happen again. It had to. He couldn’t think about anything else.

The strangest thing about the whole situation is how little your relationship has changed on the surface. Shane is still a dick to you. The only difference is how he expresses it, and how much you enjoy it. It had taken a while for him to realize, but all your arguing and fighting with him was a front for a brat who was desperate to be tamed. He’d let your poor behavior slide for a while but the second he challenged you on it, a flip switched in both of you. Shane felt so much better about having regular, exclusive sex with you when that time was filled with him punishing your nasty words and inability to follow a simple fucking direction. It didn’t feel so serious when it was just a physical extension to your bickering.

He finds himself thinking about you in the saloon on Friday night. Not like it’s abnormal. Shane has done an amazing job of learning as little as possible about you. He doesn’t know what your routine is, or if you even have one. He doesn’t know what you did yesterday, what you’re doing today, or what you want to do tomorrow. He doesn’t know if you’re going to walk through those doors and join half the town in the crowded bar tonight. He scrolls through his phone as he leans back in his seat in one of the corner tables, bringing up the pint glass to finish off his beer with his other hand.

“Want another?” Emily shouts toward him over the music and conversations. Her arms are full of empty glasses shoved full of crumpled cocktail napkins but she reaches for his empty as she waits for an answer. He shrugs and nods, pushing his empty toward her. She strolls back behind the bar to drop off the dishes and pours him another, bringing it over. He closes his hand around it, pulling it toward him and fixing his attention back to the door just in time to watch you walk in. He eyes you, so confident as you glide your way through bodies to get Gus’s attention. The cheery owner greets you loudly before serving up a pale ale in exchange for a handful of gold. Until now, you hadn’t taken in your surroundings, but he watches as you turn from the bar and immediately set your sights on Shane’s usual spot. He watches your face fall when you don’t see him there. And he watches the confusion form as you glance around and spot him sat away from the crowd.

You approach him with a grimace, surely a response to the smug grin tugging at his lips. He raises an eyebrow. “Looking for something?”

“Is there a special occasion I’m not thinking of?” you ask as you sit down in the chair to his left, your back to the other wall as you sit around the circular table and look out at the other villagers. “What’s the reason for this big change?”

Shane shrugs. “Felt like being lazy today. Long shift.”

“Yeah?” You rest your chin on your hand, elbow propped on the table as you gaze at him intently. “Any annoying stories?”

“Plenty,” he grumbles, noting the delighted smile on your face from his response. You know you can act extra bad and get a bigger rise out of him when he’s starting out in a bad mood. You fucking love it.

“You can keep ‘em to yourself,” you say, taking a long sip of beer.

“You’re so considerate.”

“We both know that’s why you like me.”

“Tolerate,” Shane quickly corrects, earning an eye roll.

“With that attitude—” you begin.

He cuts you off. “Don’t threaten me.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Unless Jas is staying out late tonight, yours.” Stupid question.

“I’d really prefer yours,” you push.

“Then you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He notices the way you push your breasts up to accentuate the curve peaking out from the neckline of your low cut t-shirt. It’s laughable how bad you want him. “You can’t pretend like you’re going to be quiet. Gagging you wouldn’t even be enough.”

“You could try.”

“Don’t need to.”

“You’re no fun.” You stop nursing your drink, keeping it in your hand as you raise it to your lips every few seconds.

“I know enough about you to know that it’s a bad idea.”

You shift your seat a little closer to Shane. “You have no interest in fucking me in your bed?” He shuffles around, trying not to let on how much he does like the idea. A cute girl surrounded by the mess that is his bedroom, face-down in his wrinkled sheets, naked and waiting for him. “Wait— never mind. I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You’re self conscious. You don’t think you’re skilled enough to tame me when the stakes are so high.” Shane raises his brows. “You’d be right. Don’t worry though, I get it.”

His voice goes low, barely audible over all the background noise. “It’s not me, it’s you. I could stuff that slutty fucking shirt in your mouth and you’d still scream around it. I could stick my dick down your throat and you’d still moan and gag. I’ve seen enough of your tricks to know better.”

You stare for a moment before giving him a half smile. “It’s fine if you give up.” Another long sip of your beer. Shane reaches down, giving your thigh a harsh squeeze, a warning. You don’t acknowledge it, only finishing off your drink. “Want another?” you ask.

“Nope.”

“Mmkay,” you hum, getting up to head to the bar and order another. You return a minute later, Shane still only halfway through his own drink as he sits and stews on your conversation. You reach out and pinch his cheek obnoxiously. “What’s wrong, doll?”

“Just finish your fucking drink,” he snaps, positioning himself to face the bar, turned slightly away from you. You reach over, underneath the table, palm running over the bulge in his jeans.

��Must’ve had a really bad day,” you conclude from his attitude.

“Wouldn’t be so bad if some people would be nicer instead of acting like a little bitch.”

“Nice girls don’t let you smack them around,” you remind him. He drops the argument.

Shane is nearly finished with his beer now, your pint almost entirely full still. You must notice him eyeing the difference because you reach toward his glass, pulling it out of his reach before he can react, to toss back the remainder of it. He shoots you a glare, abruptly standing up. “I’ll see you at your place.”

“Shane,” you whine in protest, your tactics having worked a little too well. He knows that you’ll drag out that last pint for far too long if he allows you to toy with him in public. “Are you just going to sit outside my house waiting for me?”

“No.”

He walks out before you can get another question in, left to finish your drink. Shane takes the long way, walking past Marnie’s ranch and through the shortcut up to your farm. Just in case anyone’s paying attention. He surveys your crops, checks out the condition of your animal buildings, before stumbling up to your door. He wonders how you’re so ditzy with barely one beer in you that you hadn’t noticed your keys were missing from the table when you returned with your second round. You’re lucky you have him. Someone with worse intentions could have picked these up easily. What those worse intentions could be, he isn’t sure, but they must exist.

Shane lets himself in, making sure to lock the door behind him. You left a couple windows open too— he quickly shuts and locks those in case you get any bright ideas to break into your own house. Draped on your couch, he scrolls through his phone for a bit until enough time has passed where he should be angry that you haven’t come home yet.

Shane

9:40 PM: 5 minutes and I’m leaving.

No response, not that he expected one. Five minutes pass with no return; he didn’t expect you to do that, either. That’s okay. Each minute you wait is another minute for Shane to imagine up an adequate punishment. He has no intentions of leaving before you get home. His mind wanders to things he’s tried before, then to things he’s dreamed up. His hand trails down his stomach, landing over that bulge you’d not-so-subtly groped earlier. His fingers move over it through thick denim while he loses himself in his imagination.

You’re almost 20 minutes late when he hears cursing outside. Realized you don’t have your keys? “Shane?!” Have to work harder than that. A pound on the door, wiggling of the handle. “Shane… are you here?” Footsteps around your house, probably checking those windows you were so sure you left open. You circled back to the front door. In a weak voice, you try, “Sir?”

That’s better. Shane gets up, swinging the door open to find you puzzled. Understanding begins to dawn on you as he hands you your keys and pulls you inside, twisting the lock behind you. “What do you say?”

You toss the keys onto the kitchen counter, using your toes to slip out of your shoes. “Thanks for stealing my keys, asshole.”

You start heading toward your bedroom but he’s quick to grab your wrist, twirling you back to him before he backs you up against the door. “Try again.”

“Thanks,” you spit, struggling against his grasp. He pointedly pushes you into the door again. You throw on a sickeningly sweet voice. “Thanks, Sir!” With a harsh shake of your arm, you pull yourself from his grasp and turn back to your bedroom, disappearing into the short hallway leading to it. Shane watches you leave. His jaw would be hanging open if he had any less self control. He would never deny your title as a brat, but this behavior was worse than anything you’d pulled with him before. It was like you were having a temper tantrum. The normal part of his brain, or what was left of it, wondered if he’d gone too far with this little game tonight. No, no, you’re just mad that he didn’t give you what you wanted. Mad that he wouldn’t invite you into his room. The risk of someone finding out would be far too high— he couldn’t.

To Shane’s surprise, you sulk back out while he still stands in the middle of the living room, brushing past him. You’re wearing a pair of shorts, a bra on top as if you’re only halfway through changing. A baby pink bra with tiny flowers running over the cups. It makes you look cute and innocent, but you’re certainly not fooling him. He watches you lean down to dig through your fridge, ass in the air, hem of those little shorts slid halfway up your soft cheeks as you make a show of it. Shane walks toward you quietly.

When you stand up and turn around, he’s right behind you. “Fuck!” you yelp, clutching the cold beer in your hand close to your chest. “Any reason you’re hovering over me?”

“Nope.” Shane grabs the beer from you, cracking it and taking a long sip. He makes eye contact with you as he swallows, your glare icy. Shane ignores it, leaving the kitchen to settle on your couch and drink. Inside, he’s seething, but he knows how much you love to see him angry. He wants to toy with you and deprive you of the satisfaction just as you’re trying to do with him.

You grab another can with a melodramatic sigh and plop down on the armchair settled against the wall to Shane’s right. He eyes you, not saying anything. “Just gonna sit there staring at me all night?” you ask, crossing your legs at your ankles as you prop them up on the coffee table and sip your beer. Shane shrugs, mirroring you. “Boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug. “I can tell you’re not really cut out for this kind of thing.”

“‘s that so?”

“Yeah. Nothing to feel bad about. You just have bottom energy.”

“Do I?” Shane chuckles but it’s devoid of humor. He’s a bottom, huh? That’s what you think of the man who, just nights ago, had his hand wrapped around your throat with his dick stuffed inside you in a public setting? He wonders if you knew Joja had cameras in that cooler. He’d pulled the tapes before his boss saw, but obviously he’d saved it for himself.

You nod in response, appearing so confident in your assessment. He knows it’s a front, but his hand is still tightening around the aluminum of the can he holds, causing it to give out a metallic crinkle. You glance at it, asking, “Did I make you mad?” Shane rolls his eyes and you giggle. “That’s so cute.”

“You know what else is fucking cute?” he snaps.

“You know what else is fucking cute?” you mock in a high-pitched voice.

“Not fucking happening.” Shane climbs to his feet, slamming the beer can down on the table in front of him and rounding the corner of it to stand in front of you.

“Not fucking happening,” you parrot, setting your own beer down. As he leans toward you, you shrink down in the cushy chair, a shrill laugh falling from your lips. Shane grabs you by your waist, managing to pick you up and toss you over his broad shoulder. You squirm around, still giggling as his fingertips dig into the fat of your thigh to hold you in place. He carries you into your bedroom, tossing you down on the bed. You look up at him, knees bent, resting on your elbows.

“Turn over,” he instructs.

“Make me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Shane gives a firm tug to one of your hips, flipping you on your stomach easily before pulling your ankles off the side of the bed, sweet ass perched up for him. He pulls his belt off in one fluid motion, the metal of the buckle clinking. You look back excitedly but Shane shakes his head. You’ve got nothing to be excited about. “Any smartass remarks you want to make?”

“So many.”

“Great. Save ‘em.”

You make his decisions so easy. Despite all this simmering rage, he almost considered letting you off easy with his hand but it looks like his black leather belt will be of use after all. He folds it in half, snapping it together. The crack echos around your room for a second and Shane feels his cock throb as he watches your face fall. Before you can fight him, he tugs your shorts down around your thighs and flicks the belt against your skin just enough to make you jump. He’s mean, but he won’t go straight to making bruises. “Shane!” you gasp. Another smack, harder. You know why. “‘m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“I ammm!” you insist, squirming around. Smack. “Shane!”

“Try again.” Smack. Your pretty ass is turning red, the spots where his belt has made contact blushing almost immediately.

“Sir!” you yelp, sounding exasperated like the name was forced out of you. And yeah… maybe it was. Sometimes it has to be.

Shane presses his crotch to your ass, leaning over your torso to wrap his fist up in your hair and put his mouth next to your ear. “Gonna stop being a little bitch to me?”

“Yes,” you groan, wincing at the harsh, scratchy denim of his jeans rubbing against your abused skin. He kisses your temple, releasing you with a light shove that forces your face into the sheets for a second, climbing back to his feet.

“Good girl. Sit up and help me out.”

You roll over, slowly settling yourself on your tender ass to reach out and unbutton his jeans. He massages your scalp as you do, a sweet gesture, but both of you know he’s only doing it so he can pull your hair if you do something he doesn’t like. He steps out of his pants when you slide the denim down his legs, leaving him in plaid boxers. Shane guides your mouth to his covered length and you stick out your tongue, running it over the bulge. “Don’t know why you act out. All you ever want is a dick stuffed in one of your holes.” He pulls down on the back of your head just enough to force your gaze up to his face. “You’re just a cockslut.” You run the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip, focusing your attention back on the task in front of you. Shane gives you another harsh tug, holding his hand there as you’re forced to crane your neck with the pressure. “Look at me and say it.”

“I’m not a cockslut.”

“Huh?” Challenging you to disobey again.

“You’re a pussyslut.” Maybe so, but not for you to say, especially with such a sinister smirk on your face. Shane’s palm meets your cheek with a solid slap, enough for your head to turn from the impact and the shock of it. He loves how surprised you are to receive backlash from your flagrant refusal to follow directions.

“I could whip my dick out, jerk off, ‘nd cum on your face and leave here happy. I don’t need pussy. I won’t even touch your pussy tonight if you can’t act like a good girl for longer than a few seconds.”

“Liar. You wanna fuck me.”

Shane pulls his boxers down just enough to release his erection, nearly smacking you in the face with it. He holds the tip to your mouth, pressing it forward and smearing precum all over your soft lips until you finally open up for him. He fucks it into you, holding your face against his pelvis for a moment before pulling back a little and settling into an even pace. “Sure, I want to. But I don’t need to. It’s more important to me that naughty sluts learn their lesson.” Shane knows his cockslut loves his length in her mouth, but the pleasure you’re getting there surely isn’t outweighed by the discomfort of your leaky hole and throbbing nub between your thighs. “Look at you drooling all over my dick. You’re so pretty when you shut the fuck up.” You try to mumble something around him but it comes out unintelligible, only vibrating up his erection. “Yeah baby, do that again.” And you do, louder, growing more irritated, and it feels even better around Shane. He holds your hair, hips still as he moves your head up and down his cock, sure to choke you on his dripping tip as he holds it to the back of your throat. When he lets go of you for just a second, you pull back and gasp and your mouth fills with more spit, so good and messy as it lubricates him and leaks down to his balls. “You wanna swallow my cum?”

You moan quietly and he knows that’s a yes, especially as your hands fly up to massage at his balls in an attempt to milk him. He’s a little disappointed at the answer, forced to pull out to refrain from giving you a single thing you want. You grasp at him as he steps back, seeking out the thick cock that filled you a second ago. “On second thought, I’d rather put it in your cunt.”

“Put it in my mouth or don’t cum.”

“That’s sure as hell not your decision.”

You reach down for your shorts, slowly pulling them up your legs to cover yourself, though you leave plenty of time for him to stop you. “We both know who’s really in charge. If I don’t want it, it’s not happening.”

“This delusion is real cute, doll, but you’re only hurting yourself.” Shane tugs your shorts back down your legs with one hand, a finger looped around the waistband of your panties to slip them off in the process, removing them from your body entirely and tossing your shorts over your head and into the corner of the room. Your panties fall on the bed near your head. He unclips your bra, having had plenty of experience with doing so recently to have it done in a second and joined with your shorts, far out of reach. Shane tugs his shirt off and climbs on top of you, pinning you down to the bed with his torso. You squirm around and it’s laughably easy to swat away your hands that try to push him off. Reaching down, he grips the back of your thigh and pulls your leg up to wrap around his hip and immediately plunges his dick into your pussy. He watches your face as he bottoms out with no warning, no fingering, not even any grinding or friction on your little clit to prepare you. Your eyes roll back, mouth slipping open, hands falling limp as you take in the sensation. “Throwing a fucking fit, and for what? You’re dripping.”

And you are. Shane fits like a fucking glove inside you, walls so tight around him, sucking him off just like your lips and throat did. Between your spit covering him and the slick of your pussy, each thrust comes with an obscenely wet sound that he can’t get enough of. And while he��s enjoying it, your hands are back to pushing on his chest roughly, other knee pulled out from under him to press into his stomach. As much as he hates breaking the illusion, his voice reverts back to normal for a second, thrusts pausing, asking, “What’s your color?”

He’s hoping for green because he wants to fuck into you harder, wants to manipulate your body to take his cock straight to the little patch inside you that makes it feel so fucking deep. Yellow is manageable; as long as he can keep fucking you. Your response is nothing he expected.

“Beige,” you answer, breaking out of your own character to let out a yawn and stretch your arms above your head like you could fall asleep right here, right now.

“Beige,” he repeats. Beige. As if you’re so bored and unsatisfied by his cock ramming into you that you can’t even feign interest. Beige.

Shane reaches toward your panties, balling them up in his fist and using his other hand to press his index finger and thumb into the sides of your jaw, mouth popping open. He wastes no time shoving your underwear between your parted lips and resumes his hip thrusts, faster and deeper as he refrains from pulling out more than a couple inches in between. “You shouldn’t lie to me. Don’t act like I can’t feel you squeezing around me. I can see your fucking legs shaking.” His fingers wrap around the sides of your neck, practically holding himself upright with it while he abuses your cunt. You moan, hindered by the feeling of lacking oxygen and the slutty fabric stuffed in your drooly mouth, but he still hears you loud and clear.

“You wanna know why you’re not invited to my place? You’re loud, whiny, entitled, rude— we both know that. The real reason is that you’re fucking messy. You get spit and cum everywhere when you get fucked like the spoiled brat you are, and I won’t cater to you any more than I already do by cleaning up after you.” Shane runs a hand between your bodies, pulling out to shove three digits in. They curl up to prod at your g-spot, your back arching in response as you grab at his wrist. He uses his free hand to pinch at your nipple just hard enough to earn a muffled yelp. Pulling his fingers out of your cunt, he removes the panties from your mouth and replaces them with his digits soaked in your pussy mixed with his precum. He holds them all the way in your mouth, knuckles pressed to your lips as your lips close tight and you suck off the evidence of how much you’re enjoying your sick little fantasy.

Once Shane’s satisfied, he flips you around and has you kneel in front of him, your back pressed to his chest as he holds you by your neck. His hot breath tickles your ear as he speaks. “Gonna let me fuck you?”

“Nuh-uh,” you mumble.

“No? What are you gonna do, doll?”

“Gonna stop you,” you breathe.

His grasp on your neck tightens. He presses a finger to your soaked, throbby nub between your thighs, rubbing over it softly. You buck your hips, desperate for more friction. He gives it to you, touches turning harsh and your ass presses against his cock. Taking the opportunity, he stops his assault and positions himself at your hole, allowing himself to enjoy the painstakingly slow reentry. Your cunt tries to pull him in faster, your walls quivering around the thickness, but he drags it out as long as he can manage. Your hands are preoccupied, trying to pull at the fingers around your neck. You’re not even trying. He lets go— he has what he wants. Both hands grasp onto your hips to hold you still.

“What happened?” he coos, faking concern. “Look down, doll. Look between your thighs. Thought you were gonna stop me, but the head of my cock is right up against your cervix now.”

“Sir,” you grumble, unsatisfied with the lack of motion and upset with the teasing in his words.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby girl.” Shane nestles his chin in the crook of your neck, pressing short kisses to the sensitive skin. Four red lines mark the area and he smiles as he sees these indents of his fingers left behind.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Ask nice.”

You let out a pouty huff. “Please fuck me, Sir.”

Even with all your naughty behavior, he’s weak to your good girl persona, so he listens. He pulls himself out almost as slowly as he’d entered, feeling the way you gasp and following suit for the sake of copying you. When he snaps his hips forward to meet your ass, he moans mockingly just as he knows you’re going to. Being berated for your pleasure in response to his cock makes your cunt drip now that your brattiness is wearing down. Mean Shane brings out your rebellious side but when he babies you, you begin to melt into his hands, so moldeable for his pleasure. So he pushes your face into the pillows, ass up, perfect to fuck himself against your g-spot. You quiver beneath him, so much closer to orgasm than he is. You haven’t asked yet but he knows a decision needs to be made. Does he let you cum or force you to hold it in, facing a bigger punishment if you can’t?

“Sir,” you breathe, voice hitched in the middle of the word as he pointedly slams his cock against your insides, swearing he can feel your stomach bulge with the motion. “‘m so close.”

No shot in hell you’re going to be able to hold off if your voice is any indication. Your thighs are shaking like all the energy you have left is going into holding yourself up. “What are you gonna do about that, baby?”

“Gonna cum,” you whimper, backing your hips up in time with his to feel his dick deeper and harder.

“Not until you ask,” Shane reminds you.

You grunt and he can practically feel the eye-roll despite your face being shoved against your bed. “Don’t need to ask.”

“Like hell you don’t.” Shane pulls his hips back, his cock slipping out of you with a wet pop. Your tight little hole squeezes around nothing, so desperate for something thick and long to fill the space. And if you’d just done what you were told, you wouldn’t be having that problem, yeah? He shakes his head as he looks over your body, so weak and pathetic and all a consequence of your own decisions.

“Please,” you finally whimper, not even giving Shane the respect of looking over your shoulder at him. No, your face is still pressed into your soft pillow, ass wiggling as you eagerly wait for your prize. Shane delivers a sharp smack to it.

“Don’t insult me. You beg for it like a dumb slut if you wanna act like one.”

“Please Sir, please fuck me and let me cum.”

That’s it? “Fucking pathetic. On your back. Now.”

Shane moves to give you enough space to roll over, staring up at him as he glares at you. Your eyes are big, eyelashes clouding your gaze. You act so innocent and it gives him a hundred other ideas to play with but he can’t get distracted. That’s what you want. He moves over your chest, heavy wet cock hovering just a few inches above your sweet lips. “Beg. You only have one more chance to show Daddy how bad you want it. Don’t fuck it up again or I’m going to fuck your mouth until I cum.”

You carefully reach your hand up to his cock, wrapping your fingers around it and jerking it with his tip pointed at your face. Your eyes don’t move from his, locked in until you’re sure he won’t yell at you for touching him without him instructing you to. “Please, Sir?” you try again, voice so small and hesitant. “I wanna cum on your cock so badly. It’s all I think about.”

“Why don’t you act like a good girl, then?”

“I like it when you get mad and fuck me like you hate me.”

“If I hated you, I’d let you cum. I want you to learn your lesson. Being mean won’t get you what you want all the time. There has to be a limit.” You swirl your tongue around his tip. “You have to learn that I’ll make you feel good, but I’m not going to make you cum until you deserve it.”

“‘m sorry, Sir. I’ll behave. I promise. Will you please make me cum, Sir?”

Shane reaches down to pet your hair, stuck to the side of your cheek. He melts when you drop the bratty act, so unsettled by your kind, innocent demeanor that he forgets why he was ever annoyed with you. “Course I’ll make you cum, sweet girl.”

Shane finds his way back down your body, settled on his knees as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. He pushes into you, no chance for you to adjust again because he knows how much the sudden squeeze turns you on. You grasp up at him so he leans down, bending your legs further and tightening your cunt with the motion. Your palms fall to his chest as he pounds into you, settling his thumb over your clit to play with it as you squirm below him. “C’mon, baby, cum for me. Show me how tight your cunt can get around my cock.”

And you do, pulsing around him as you throw your head back, digging your nails into your sheets while he slams into you. Your pussy feels like it’s trying desperately to milk him and lucky for you, the sensation brings him closer and closer to joining in. You let out a yelp as you cum, the rush of fluids coating him and further reducing any friction between you. “Sir, please cum in me. Need it so bad,” you whine out, trying hard to keep your eyes open to meet his lidded gaze.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he grunts. “Even when you act like a bitch. Giving me a boner at the bar, keeping me waiting all that time. I was jerking off on your couch waiting for you. Do that again and I might just cum and go home.”

“I won’t, Sir, I’m sorry.”

“Good, doll. Gonna cum in you now. Keep squeezing, don’t let it leak out.” He leans in further to bury his face into your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with sweat. Shane can’t help but nibble on your delicate skin as his hips slow, cock twitching wildly inside you as it begins to pump out thick ropes, surely puddling within your walls as you clench him so tight he’s not sure he could pull out if he tried. “Good cumslut, love how bad you want it, baby.” As he finishes, he pumps in and out a couple more times to make sure his cock has been thoroughly milked, and to fuck his seed deeper into you. He pulls out while you remain all clenched up, white streaks still inevitably slipping down to your ass and gathering between your thighs. Shane kisses you softly before pushing himself off and laying down next to you.

The two of you let the silence take over for a minute, catching your breath. Shane stares up at the ceiling. He always feels some level of post-nut clarity with you where guilt comes rushing over him for being so mean and demanding, despite the therapeutic element of getting his anger and stress out on you. He wants to apologize, but you’ve scolded him for doing so before.

“Maybe next time, we save the trip home from the saloon,” you finally suggest.

Shane’s head lolls to the side to examine your expression. If you’re joking, you hide it well. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll be quiet!” you lie.

He tosses the idea around in his head. It’s certainly not like he isn’t aroused by it. “You can suck my dick in the bathroom, but that’s it. I don’t trust your mouth unoccupied.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not,” he assures. “We can argue about it later.”

“Fine.” You lean over, kissing him abruptly, pulling away with a sweet smile. “Now get out of my bed.”

He chuckles, pushing himself up and collecting his clothes, tugging them back on. Just before he leaves your room, he asks, “Ever find your keys?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.” In a softer voice, he adds, “See you soon.”

“Get home safe,” you call back as he pulls the front door closed behind him, checking that the lock is in place before he heads back home for the night.

[rudyking]

The dare list:

JJ Maybank and Y/N, friends with undeniable chemistry (maybe something more, maybe just acknowledged tension), find (or create) a list of dares or prompts together. What starts as a silly way to kill time – takes a sharp turn when one of the prompts is explicitly sexual.

In the sweltering haze of a Outer Banks summer, the air hung thick and heavy, like a blanket woven from sea salt and forgotten dreams. The treasure hunts that usually ignited JJ Maybank's rebellious spirit were on hold—some snag with permits or a rival crew, who cared? The days dragged on, lazy and uninspired, with the sun beating down on the weathered boardwalks and sun-bleached houses of Kildare Island. JJ, with his shaggy blonde hair tousled by the breeze and his blue eyes squinting against the glare, felt the boredom gnawing at him like a bad habit. He was a live wire, impulsive and carefree, always itching for the next thrill. But today, even the ocean's roar seemed muffled.

Then there was Y/N. She was the calm to his storm, a steady presence with a gentle smile that could cut through his sarcasm like a knife through warm butter. They were friends—good ones, with that electric undercurrent that JJ pretended not to notice. Maybe it was the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, or how she always seemed to understand his impulsive rants without judgment. They'd spent countless evenings on the beach, sharing stories and stolen glances, but nothing more. Not yet.

That night, as the sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink, JJ and Y/N found themselves on the old pier, their bare feet dangling over the edge. The heat lingered, wrapping around them like a second skin. JJ cracked open a couple of beers from his backpack, his deep dimples flashing as he grinned. "This island's deader than a washed-up fish," he said, his voice laced with that signature sarcasm. "What's a guy gotta do for some excitement around here?"

Y/N chuckled, her calm demeanor a soothing contrast to his restlessness. She was patient like that, always seeing the best in people, especially him. "We could make our own fun," she suggested, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes sparkled with playfulness, a side of her that matched his mischievous streak without the edge.

JJ raised an eyebrow, his mind racing with ideas. He was observant, always picking up on the little things—the way her fingers traced patterns in the sand, or how she leaned in a little closer when he spoke. "Alright, smart-ass," he teased, using the term affectionately. It was his way of showing he cared, even if his bad temper sometimes got the better of him. "How about a game? Like, dares or prompts. Something to shake things up."

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. "Okay, but nothing too crazy. We're not kids anymore." Her voice was gentle, but there was a hint of maturity in her tone, a reminder that she could handle whatever came next.

They pulled out a crumpled notebook from JJ's bag—one he'd scavenged from an abandoned boat—and started jotting down ideas. It began innocently enough, a list born from boredom and unspoken tension. "Dare to make me laugh so hard I cry," JJ wrote first, his handwriting sloppy but enthusiastic. Y/N added, "Prompt: What's your favorite sound?" They laughed as they brainstormed, the game feeling like a harmless way to pass the time.

For JJ, it was a relief. Deep down, he was vulnerable, protective of the people he loved, and Y/N was at the top of that list. But admitting that? Nah, not yet. Not when he could hide behind his humor and mischief.

They decided to play right there on the pier, the waves crashing below as their soundtrack. JJ went first, drawing a prompt from the list with dramatic flair. "Alright, Y/N. Prompt: What's your favorite sound?"

She thought for a moment, her expression thoughtful and insightful. "The sound of rain on a tin roof," she said softly. "It's like the world whispering secrets, you know? What about you?"

JJ smirked, his blue eyes twinkling. He was smart-alecky, always turning things into a joke. "Easy. The sound of a cold beer opening on a hot day." But as he said it, he felt a pang of something deeper. The real answer was the sound of her laugh, but he kept that locked away, afraid of what it might mean.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Your turn. Dare: Make me laugh so hard I cry."

Oh, he was good at this. JJ launched into a ridiculous impression of their friend John B, mimicking his wide-eyed enthusiasm with exaggerated gestures. "And then he says, 'Treasure's out there, man!' like he's Captain Ahab on a surfboard!" Y/N burst out laughing, her gentle nature shining through as she doubled over, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. JJ felt a rush of affection—he was impulsive, sure, but moments like this made him feel alive, connected.

As the night wore on, they cycled through more prompts, the game evolving naturally. "Prompt: Tell me a secret you've never shared," Y/N said, her voice steady and understanding.

JJ hesitated, his carefree facade cracking just a bit. He was loyal to a fault, but vulnerability wasn't his strong suit. Still, he trusted her. "Fine. I hate how my dad used to yell at me as a kid. Makes me lose my temper sometimes, even when I don't mean to." It slipped out before he could stop it, raw and honest. Y/N's eyes softened, and she reached out, her hand brushing his arm. The touch lingered, electric, and JJ's heart raced. He quickly deflected with sarcasm. "Your turn. Don't go easy on me."

She shared a lighter secret, something about a childhood crush, and they moved on. But the air between them was shifting, growing thicker with unspoken longing. The prompts started to escalate, almost by accident. Maybe it was the beer, or the way the moonlight danced on the water, but Y/N suggested, "Prompt: Describe your ideal kiss."

JJ's pulse quickened. He was observant, noticing how her cheeks flushed under the stars. From his perspective, this was uncharted territory. He wanted to bolt, his impulsive nature screaming to run from the vulnerability, but he stayed. "Alright," he said, his voice huskier than intended. "My ideal kiss? Slow, like the tide coming in. Not rushed, just... feeling everything. The kind that makes you forget where you end and the other person begins."

Y/N met his gaze, her calm exterior hiding a playful spark. "That sounds nice," she replied, her words laced with maturity and insight. "My turn to dare you: Act out a fantasy, but keep it PG... for now."

JJ laughed, but it was nervous, edged with the passion he usually kept buried. He described a silly fantasy—surfing a massive wave in the dead of night—but his mind wandered to her. The game was changing, pulling them closer.

By the time they reached the later prompts, the night had deepened, the heat wrapping around them like an intimate cocoon. They moved to a secluded spot on the beach, away from prying eyes, the sand cool under their feet. JJ drew the next one: "Prompt: What's something you've always wanted to try, but never have?"

Y/N bit her lip, her gentle nature making her hesitate. "Dancing in the rain during a storm. What about you?"

He grinned, but his thoughts were elsewhere. "Jumping off a roof into the water—done that. But... something else. Something with you." The words hung in the air, charged. JJ's mind raced; he was protective, caring, but this was new territory. He wanted her, had for a while, but fear of ruining their friendship held him back.

Then came the turning point. Y/N pulled out a prompt she'd added earlier, one that had slipped in among the others: "Dare: Touch me in a way that makes me shiver." It was explicitly sexual, a bold step they hadn't anticipated. JJ's breath caught. His heart pounded, a mix of curiosity and longing fueling him. He was impulsive, after all—why not see where this went?

"Are we really doing this?" he asked, his voice low, vulnerable.

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on his. "Only if you want to."

From JJ's perspective, the world narrowed. He reached out, his fingers brushing her arm, tracing a slow path up to her shoulder. The contact was electric, sending shivers through both of them. "Like that?" he whispered, his sarcasm gone, replaced by raw affection.

She shivered, as promised, and leaned closer. "More," she murmured, her playful side emerging.

What followed was a series of encounters over the next few nights, the game becoming a guided exploration of their desires. They met under the stars, the prompts escalating in intimacy.

One night, it was "Prompt: Whisper something only for me," leading to heated confessions that blurred the lines between friendship and something deeper. JJ's hands explored her skin, gentle yet passionate, his mischievous grin fading into genuine tenderness.

Another encounter: "Dare: Kiss me like you mean it." JJ obliged, his lips meeting hers with a hunger he'd suppressed for too long. It was awkward at first stumbles and laughs breaking the tension—but it evolved into something intense, physical. From his view, it was like unlocking a door he'd been afraid to open. Y/N's patience guided him, her understanding making him feel safe.

And so it began, a game of back-and-forth dares and provocations, each trying to outdo the other in cleverness and creativity. The prompts started off innocuous enough: "Dare to make me laugh so hard I cry." (JJ succeeded, much to Y/N's mortification.) "Prompt: What's your favorite sound?" (Y/N's answer of "The sound of waves on the shore" earned her a dreamy sigh.)

But as the sun began its lazy descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in vivid streaks of orange and pink, the prompts took a decided turn for the risqué. JJ, emboldened by the charged atmosphere and perhaps a bit too much rum punch, jotted down: "Prompt: Describe your favorite way to touch yourself."

Y/N's eyes widened as she read the words, a hot flush rising in her cheeks. Her pen hovered over the page, then she slowly, deliberately began to write. When she passed the leaflet back to JJ, his eyes widened in turn, a look of undisguised hunger flickering in their blue depths.

"Fuck," he breathed, "Y/N..."

She met his gaze steadily, her own eyes dark with a want she could no longer deny. "The game's the game, JJ. You started it."

And so they played on, through the deepening dusk and into the throbbing heart of night. The prompts grew filthier, more graphic, each daring the other to explore and confess their deepest desires. They whispered and moaned, their voices husky with need.

"Touch me," Y/N begged, shivering as JJ's clever fingers danced over her heated skin. "Touch me like you want to devour me."

"Ah fuck, you taste good," JJ groaned, his mouth hot and wet on her aching flesh. "Wanted this, wanted you, for so goddamn long..."

Their clothes lay discarded on the cooling sand, their bodies writhing together in a tangle of eager limbs. JJ's lips and teeth and tongue blazed a trail of fire down Y/N's trembling body, pausing to lave at the sensitive hollow of her throat.

"Please," she keened, nails scrabbling at his shoulders, "Christ, JJ, please..."

He didn't need to be told twice. With a grunt of triumph, he sheathed himself deep inside her welcoming heat. They both cried out at the sudden, perfect fullness, lost to everything but the slick slide of their bodies and the pounding rhythm of their hearts.

They made love with an urgency that bordered on violence, all grasping hands and bruising kisses, a desperate clash of hips and lips and teeth. JJ pistoned into Y/N with abandon, spurred on by her high, breathy moans and the exquisite clench of her inner muscles around his aching cock.

"Fuck, yes," he growled against her throat, "Gonna make you come so hard, Y/N. Wanna feel you shatter around me."

She was only too happy to oblige, her climax crashing over her in a tidal wave of ecstasy. JJ followed a heartbeat later, shuddering and cursing as he spilled himself deep inside her quivering sheath.

They collapsed together on the sand, sweat-slicked and sated, their limbs still twined together. Y/N's head lolled on JJ's chest, listening to the thundering of his heart gradually slowing.

"Christ," JJ huffed, his voice a bit hoarse. "That was..."

"Intense," Y/N finished, lifting her head to meet his dazed gaze. "JJ, I... we..."

He hushed her with a gentle finger to her lips. "Don't. Not yet. Let's just... be, for now."

And so they were, wrapped in each other's arms as the night breeze cooled their overheated skin. The game of prompts had burned away the last of their hesitation, leaving only the pure, aching need between them.

They made love again, and again, throughout the long, languid nights of that endless summer. By the time the sun-kissed weeks drew to a close, they were mates in every sense of the word - joined body and soul, two halves of a whole forged in passion and pleasure.

Through it all, JJ reacted with a mix of humor and honesty. He'd crack a joke to ease the awkwardness—"If this is a dare, I'm acing it"—but his thoughts revealed his depth. He was protective, ensuring she was comfortable, and affectionate in ways he'd never shown before. Y/N, in turn, brought her calm insight, helping him navigate his impulses.

By the final night, as they lay on the beach watching the dawn, the game had transformed their relationship. What started as silly prompts had become a catalyst for intimacy, stripping away the barriers. JJ realized he loved her—not just as a friend, but as someone who completed his chaotic world. "This changes everything, doesn't it?" he said, his voice soft.

Y/N smiled, her hand in his. "Only if we want it to."

In the end, the summer wasn't so boring after all. It had given them a list, a game, and a chance to find each other.

[fallendemon6000]

Episode 6 - A Promise To Keep

The kiss lasts and then is broken. Crowley smiles, resting his forehead against the angel's.

C:"Let's run. Let's run, Aziraphale. Let's get out of here. Out of London. This time, for real."

Aziraphale laughs, as if he doesn't understand what Crowley is referring to.

C: "You told me that once, remember?"

A: "I didn't remember promising to run away."

C: "We were drunk. A bottle of angel alcohol and two stolen glasses. You said, 'One day, let's go'. Just you and me. No heaven. No Hell." But then you laughed. And I laughed too, then I didn't laugh anymore."

They look at each other.

Then Crowley opens the door.

C: "Today is 'that day'.'"

Aziraphale climbs in. Crowley follows him.

The Bentley's engine roars, but it feels lighter, as if it too knows that this time direction matters more than destination.

Their journey begins as they leave London.

Going far away.

Getting away from the chaos of London and many memories created there. Good and bad.

During their road trip a music plays in the background: something old, jazzy, happy.

No words.

They stop in many places and do many things:

they dance on the empty beach,

shoes in hand, while the waves touch their pants.

Aziraphale stumbles and laughs like a little boy.

They sleep in the back of the Bentley, wrapped in blankets, next to each other, without needing to touch to feel close.

Crowley cooks something on a campfire, Aziraphale turns up his nose, then tastes it, and laughs.

A stolen kiss in the rain, without hesitation, with hands in hair and freedom on her.

And the days pass. No one counts them anymore.

During the journey, they find a small Chalet uninhabited for a long time, nothing that a miracle cannot fix and make welcoming.

Later the fireplace is lit. Aziraphale is wrapped in a Scottish blanket, Crowley lying on the floor, with a pillow under his head. They have had a drink, they laugh softly. The fire casts warm shadows on the ceiling.

A: "This... This is the place where I always wanted to be."

C: "So we had the same thought."

They look at each other and then smile.

That smile that comes only after so much effort and so much tenderness.

A: "I love you."

C: "I know."

Aziraphale comes closer and lies down next to him.

They kiss.

Calmly.

Slowly.

No longer needing to defend themselves.

The fire in the fireplace still crackles, low and golden. The blanket has slipped halfway. Crowley and Aziraphale lie next to each other on the carpet. They don't speak. It's not necessary. Every breath is synchronized. Every silence is full of what there is no need to say.

Outside, the forest is still. No angel, no demon. No mission. Only the soft chirping of crickets, the scent of burning wood, and the certainty that, for once, no one is watching them.

Only them.

Two creatures as old as time, tired and tender, who have found each other. Who have finally chosen only each other.

And for tonight there is no Heaven. There is no Hell.

There is only this:

peace.

[arrietty-rune]

It was a night. (Rósa lore heheh!)

The Full Moon. The perfect moment to practice some magic in a place it needed. The forest near the town… You had weird feelings about it. But you couldn't find why. After visiting it, you came back to a place around a large tree you had eyes on. Why not using white magic on it? Making that tree blooming and spreading flowers to purify the forest, you start a spell for and your hair started to glow in following. Once finishing the magic formula, you put your hand on the green glowing circle that summoned, and let the magic doing it effects.

It looked okay at first, but something went suddenly weird. Purple and dark lightnings coming out from the circle. Something was so wrong.

Confusions, panic. Why is this happening ? Why The magic turned to a dark one ?!

You got the answers once you looked at the circle, especially on her left hand, the one she used, being the source of making dark magic, while right hand is used to create white magic.

Too bad for Rósa being left-handed.

The lights became stronger, the noises becoming louder… A flash happened and you fainted shortly for seconds. There was smoke everywhere you couldn't see what happened yet, face covered, then you felt some liquid on your hands: you were bleeding from your nose.

"… What happened…?"

You try to chase the smoke to get a better view, and could hear barely something that get your attention. At focusing on, it looked like moans… Human ones ? Was someone was in pain? When it was finally able to see anything, you stopped to move, in shock.

A body. A decayed body was in front of you, moving. It was looking at you, still moaning, as it tried to talk.

You ran away to the forest entrance by fear and tried to calm down. How this could be possible ?! Why is this happening ? You need a plan, quickly. You couldn't let a "zombie" being able to attack the town right ?

Likewise, you still had your dagger to kill like, so this would be like nothing happened. You take an inspiration to prepare yourself, and went back to that moving body, with almost nothing than skeleton with hair and few pieces of flesh. Breaking his skull would be easy at this point.

You came near to the undead as attempting to kill it. Don't worry, it will be quick.

You made a mistake, bringing back to life any living dead is forbidden, you had to kill it. And this creature could be dangerous, but you were hesitating. But whatever it was, that was still a living creature. You could see they have a soul.

You don't want to kill it. Who are you to decide who should die or not?

…

Your weapon fell on the ground. You spared the undead person. They still seemed to talk with you, but it was incomprehensible as their body was just too weak for anything, but you are sure they want to live. They didn't even try to bite or attack you, like zombies in popular culture… Maybe you could inspect how far they can fight to stay alive again…? Would they be the same person as they were at the time their heart beat ?

Time to change your plan from killing to hide your creation. You remembered something in the forest and by the help of your fairy dust, you controlled and brought the body to a cavern, the entrance hidden by long wisteria flowers. For next days, you will visit that place to feed the undead person and looking how this will evolve.

Part 1 - Part 2 (WIP)

[cloudbends]

Just one detail out of the many great ones in episode 100 of pokemon horizons, but I feel like the last two episodes really solidified the parallels between liko and orio narrative roles in regards to friede.

Even before the arc began and the new designs for the trio have been revealed, aside for roy's direct similarity to friede, something I noticed was liko's new design's similarity to orio's. Their hairstyle is very similar, both having two strands of hair at the front and tying the rest up behind, and it was a particular enough choice for me to keep in the back of my mind and not chalk up to a coincidence, as almost nothing in this series is coincidental.

The opening two parter of terastal debut frames liko's grief around her bottling her feelings up, as she tended to do before her journey began, which I feel after the last episode surrounding orio, create direct parallels. Both of them were heavily shaken by the loss of friede, likely more than the other rvt members - friede was orio's childhood friend who roped her into building the brave asagi, and friede was the first person to swoop liko into her life-changing journey, and was a true, impactful mentor figure for her. In response to that loss, both liko and orio tried returning to the guise of normalcy - adopting a somewhat unhealthy "out of sight out of mind" mentality, because thinking about what they could have done and could do at present is too painful. Even more parallels can be drawn by their relationships with ann and karna respectively, as their outside figures from their grand adventure and their sole companion in their attempt to return to normalcy. Both ann and karna point out to orio and liko that their behaviour has changed, both try to understand what they go through, and both liko and orio resort to bottling those feelings up so as to not worry the other/prevent the painful feelings from resurfacing.

Resorting to a sort of routinely stagnancy, abandoning the days of journeying in order to try to, unsuccessfully and against their deeply seated desires, to reintegrate into an un-thrilling and socially normative life, was a nuanced and very realistic writing choice for both of these characters. Similarly, both of them are spurred back from inaction to action by roy's urging, while initially turning him down in a very similar manner. For both of them, the renewed encounter with roy spurs memories of friede - liko and her first encounter with friede at the indigo academy's roof as a direct mirroring, and orio seeing a grown up roy fade into an image of friede in her mind. And after the prolonged encounter, both of them tap back into their desire for adventure and taking action against the rakurium, continuing friede's will.

These similarities are further highlighted by the cinematography choices between episodes 90-91 and episodes 99-100. Both liko and orio are often framed at the side of the frame and out of focus, with only half of their face visible - highlighting their complex emotions in regards to the loss of friede, and both of their tendencies to bottle them up, trying to maintain a facade of being alright for the sake of those around them, not to burden them with their personal feelings:

They both first appear in the respective episodes with their faces at least partially obscured, and similarly reflect on the traumatic event of the past year in shots that mirror each other perfectly:

The out-of-focus framing is similarly used to highlight their internal emotional turmoil in both episodes, when they're confronted with their own stagnancy - liko watches roy and his newly acquired partner pokemon, lamenting about her own inaction and paralysis, just as orio opens up about her inability to move on - their faces are obscured for us as the viewers, just as they try to shove their feelings lest others will see.

It also leads me to believe that liko's knowledge of friede being alive is especially impactful for her as it is for orio, considering the similar framing - out of focus, barely in frame:

Which is also why I think it is no coincidence that in the previous episode, the one to truly convince orio is liko - she knows how she feels, because she's been in a similarly grieving headspace for the past year. She knows how it feels to sink into self imposed melancholy and becoming, as Karna said, "a bit of a stick in the mud". But with reinvigorated spirit, liko recognizes that friede wouldn't sit still, and so they must do the same.

Liko and orio are constantly highlighted in regards to one another in these two episodes - orio firstly points out liko's growth and change of look, further reinforcing my belief that the design similarities aren't a mere coincidence, and as orio decides to join the renewed rvts, liko specifically comes excitedly hugs her. It's a sweet gesture of warmth, but also highlights, to me, their narrative and thematic bond, and similar positions.