#it’s like i can see him from the perspective that i’ve been him

[hollowed-theory-hall]

ok since we’re discussing harry’s appearance and you’ve already clarified what you think he looks like from the neck down, now i’m wondering about his face. obviously, the books provide quite a generous description of him — green eyes, black, messy hair, etc — but i’m more curious about whether you envision him as having delicate features? is his face longer and more masculine or a bit more rounded and doll-like? would he be described as being attractive? handsome? beautiful?

since he’s a carbon copy of james, i’d assume that he genuinely is an attractive boy/man, but since we, as readers, see things so much more from his obviously subjective perspective, we also can’t get a very good feel of these things because harry himself isn’t interested in them. and, well, he is quite oblivious to other’s attentions in general.

i’m just curious what your perception of him is from canon, since i’ve seen so so many variations of his character in fanfictions.

Hi 👋,

(Anon is referring to this post regarding Harry's height and physique)

So, we actually have a ton of little details about Harry's facial features in the books. And, contrary to what many characters say, he isn't really a carbon copy of James, especially if he removes his glasses because some of his prominent facial features are described to be Lily's.

Harry is a kid who has his father’s hair, height, and glasses, so when people look at him from afar he looks like his dad. But if you look at him closely, or he removes his glasses, their faces share similarities, sure, but they are nowhere near as similar as you thought they were a moment ago when he had his glasses on. Like, that's how I see it, and the books support this:

It was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes.

(OotP)

Harry is one of these kids who's a pretty equal mix of both their parents in his face. So, if he stood next to James, anyone looking would say they look really similar. If he stood next to Lily, they'd say he looked really similar to her (especially without his glasses).

Harry is mentioned to have his mother’s eyes, not just in color, but also in shape:

it was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes — Harry’s eyes.

(OotP)

So, Harry has green almond-shaped eyes like Lily. Almond-shaped eyes look something like this, apparently:

We also have details regarding Harry's nose. Since his nose is more similar to Lily's than James', at least, I think so:

his [James] nose was slightly longer than Harry’s

(OotP)

I imagine Harry to have a more button-shaped nose since it's what I imagine for Lily (James has a straighter nose in my mind). I don't have any quotes for the nose shape though, so it's just my headcanon.

What is canon is that Harry's nose is smaller than James' and Ron's.

As for other features of his face:

but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows. James’s hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry’s did, his hands could have been Harry’s

(OotP)

And Harry is consistently described with a thin face:

Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes

(PS)

So, from these two quotes, we can compose the rest of Harry's face shape (sorta). So Harry has a thin face, thin faces usually look more elongated. I assume his jaw is sharper than Lily's since he takes after James there.

We know his mouth and eyebrows are shaped like James', but I couldn't locate other quotes that were more specific, I take it to state his lips are on the thinner side, and his eyebrows are more masculine in shape since it's what I assume about James' appearance.

Now, I know some of the fandom headcanons Harry as not white, but I personally don't think it's the case in the books. JKR mentions very clearly when a character isn't white, with the expectation that any character that isn't given an ethnicity would be assumed white. It's how she writes, and you can say what you will about that, but it's not what I'm talking about. Additionally, contrary to popular belief, Harry's skin color is mentioned in the books to be white and pale (so is Hermione's actually).

I found a few quotes that outright mention Harry being pale, and therefore, white (this isn't an exhaustive list):

“Harry, dear, are you sure you’re all right?” said Mrs. Weasley in a worried voice, as they walked around the unkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. “You look ever so pale... Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours’ sleep before dinner, all right?”

(OotP)

“Are — are you sure you’re okay, Harry? You’re still very pale...”

(OotP)

Their eyes met over the basin, each pale face lit with that strange, green light. Harry did not speak. Was this why he had been invited along — so that he could force-feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him unendurable pain? “You remember,” said Dumbledore, “the condition on which I brought you with me?”

(HBP)

Both Harry and Dumbledore are mentioned to be pale-skinned.

The word "pale" is used by JKR to describe skin quite often, and even when someone is "pale" when they are scared or stressed, it's because their skin is pale. I haven't seen her use the word for any of the dark-skinned characters (Like Dean Thomas, who was shown to be scared on occasion, but never described as "pale"). Besides being described as "pale", Harry's face is described as white on occasion as well:

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”

(PS)

Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror. There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking

(PS)

And considering Tom, who is repeatedly described as very pale and white, says:

We even look something alike ...

(CoS)

It's clear Harry looks very English, and therefore, very white. I'd go further and say he's likely quite pale considering how often he is mentioned to be pale + his resemblance to Tom. You can obviously headcanon whatever you want, I'm not stopping you, I'm just saying what the canon is.

I'd note that in general, Harry is pretty handsome and good-looking. In books 5 and 6, he's mentioned to be of interest to many girls, among them the good-looking and popular ones (even if he doesn't realize they are good-looking). Being the Boy Who Lived, rich, and famous gets some of this attention too, yes, but Hermione tells him the fact he is hot helps. Which it does:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.” [...] “And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

(HBP)

I know she just mentions he's tall (Ron is there, after all), but the implication is that he's hot and has no idea.

Besides, both James and Lily are described as good-looking by various characters, JKR said of James: "James was reasonably good looking, though not as good looking as Sirius" and considering Sirius is one of the most attractive characters in the series, this is one hell of a compliment. As Harry is a decent mix of both their features, he is likely good-looking. He probably looks pretty cute as a tiny, scrawny kid with bright eyes, and he grows to be more handsome and attractive as he grows. Like, I don't think that many girls would be interested in him in 6th year if he wasn't also handsome, so Hermione is right. Harry isn't as smoking hot as Sirius or Tom Riddle, but he is still very good-looking.

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

So Oct 3rd is coming up :D spoilers for Oct 3rd below

As I was lying in bed debating whether to get up I realised I very badly want to make a piece for Oct 3rd, I’ve wanted to for ages but I’ve been hesitant and unsure

1. It means so so much to me, I want to do the scene justice

2. There’s just so much to do for that one scene you know? So many different ways to portray it I have loads and no ideas all at once

3. I don’t draw faces so portraying the anguish of the scene is a challenge, a welcome challenge! But a challenge nonetheless

So first, debate on what aspect I want to present, what is my focus. Of course I want to depict Mina’s anguish and pain, I think there’s not very many artworks that have her at the centre of the scene, it’s her and Jonathan. But I also want to do that too!! I want to show the comfort and support she has

Depending on whether I focus purely on Mina, or Jonmina together, want to be able to portray it so that in looking at the piece you feel a scream in your chest and can almost hear hers.

But can that be done in combining the ideas, having Jonathan present in a painting that has her anguish at the focus?

One of my friends suggested a wonderful idea to get around the issue of the face, *illustrate the scene through her reflection on a cracked mirror*

Which I think is stunning especially because oooh the mirror crack’d references there could be (though it’s a long time since I read that poem I’d better reread it and see if it’s relevant)

Also vampires, mirrors, the fact she’s obscured suggests her impending transformation

Also “foul bauble of man’s vanity” reference, nice visual parallel with Jonathan and losing his mirror.

The options as it stands:

1. Mina alone and reflected in the mirror, a piece highlighting her pain and fear and anguish as a victim and allegory for SA

2. Mina in the same pose, kneeling, blood spattered, shattered mirror reflection, but with Jonathan holding her tight from behind. I like this idea very much but how does it influence the message and idea? It must be said though she’s a victim she’s not *alone* in her victimhood, on two counts. Jonathan has suffered at the hands of the Count too, albeit to a different degree and it was because she didn’t want him to be hurt again that she didn’t scream out during the assault, and also even if he hadn’t been through it, he would still not let her feel alone. None of them do, none of them for even a second blame her.

3. Make a separate piece of Jonmina as well as the Mina alone piece

This option I’m considering because I can’t decide whether it would be better to have them in separate pieces or not. I like the idea of keeping Jonathan in the main one about Mina, but is that messy, does that detract from the pain and fear I want to portray? It’s supposed to be her perception

Or does it make it better and more complex, I can portray the actual scene, he is holding her she is not alone, but the mirror sort of represents her skewed perspective, so we have both pain and hope, loneliness and companionship in one

If it were two different pieces though then I feel like separate, the message for both only heightens. To combine I worry muddies them both, I don’t do justice to either the significance of his comfort or her pain. Which is why I could do a separate piece of him holding her after the others leave, lying down on the bed, alongside the first one of her reflected in the mirror.

(I feel like I would then need a third piece to make a triptych and complete a series but that’s a whole other discussion~)

Anyway, fellow Dracula/artist/both fans advise!! What to do what to do…

[ickypuppi3]

These anti arguments are so tired 😐 It's like we have to use baby gloves every time we decide to engage with them. Billy isn't like anyone else in this show, he's literally so isolated from everyone that you can't compare him to anyone else. He had no one to turn to at any point, he had himself and his actions just prove that. It's subconscious self defense

literally

and the way they always try to backtrack by bringing up a completely different point whenever the shitty argument they’ve used is inevitably taken apart.. it’s honestly embarrassing

people don’t seem to understand that this 17-18 year old literally had nothing

he had no one on his side

no close friends

no parental figures supporting him

no one to turn to

and why would he let people in, anyway?

when the one person he clearly trusted left him with his abuser as a child

and then on top of that is the ‘i can’t be ‘nice’ because ‘nice’ is soft and soft is how you get hurt’ aspect of it all..

it’s really not that hard to understand

especially for those who’ve been in the same position as him

but people don’t want to admit all that

because then they’d have to accept that things aren’t all black and white

and that thinking solely in terms of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ doesn’t help anyone

idk i would just love to know how they think they’d act in his position

[jemmo]

i can’t tell you how much i usually hate these ignoring, distancing plots in shows and how much i absolutely adore everything about these 2 episodes of the eighth sense. like im not having a good time, and it’s fantastic.

bc the thing is, in all of this, i can’t see the right way to go, i can’t find the person to blame, i can’t find the way to make it better. I can’t single out a single moment or a thing someone did and say “this is why everything went wrong”. it’s just this coming together and rise and swell of things happening and people feeling things that has us ending up here and it feels beautifully and horribly organic bc we can’t find that point where it all went wrong. was it on that rooftop? was it at the beach? was it when they first met? was it when his brother died? was it when he was born into this family? there is no single point. it’s all of them and it’s none of them. there is truly nothing and no one to blame. and there are bad characters in the show, people you can hate, eunji and taehyung, but neither of them are to blame for any of the bad stuff that happens in the show. you’re not waiting for them to be taken down bc that doesn’t solve anything. instead, it’s just two people hurting, and not knowing how to make it better.

bc you take jaewon, and after what he says at the end of ep 8, you want to hate him, you want to be so angry at him for what he says, for how he acts, how dismissive and hurtful he is, and yet you’ve been made to understand 100% why, and not just in a “i get it but that wasn’t the right thing to do” way, in a “that was horrible and yet i know he doesn’t see any other way to handle this” way. like you don’t see this as a misstep, or a step to far, bc you know for him, in his state of mind, it is completely justified, it’s necessary. bc it not only punishes the person he blames for all of this, himself, but he sees it as a way to protect jihyun. and not even in a cliche “bad things happen when people around me, the people I love always get hurt” kinda way, but more so in that he sees that he is a scared, messy, struggling person that doesn’t know how to handle himself, and doesn’t want to inflict that on anyone, let alone the person he cares about. so what’s worse, a quick, swift blow that hurts but cuts everything off cleanly, or this prolonged relationship where he inevitably continues to weigh jihyun down with the weight of his trauma, and take it out on him. what’s the point of having a place of refuge when you ruin it more and more every time you depend on it, until it eventually can’t offer you comfort. it’s a lesser of two evils, jaewon’s choice is obvious to him.

but then you take jihyun. and we talk about masks and fronts but we never once question whether jihyun wears a mask bc he appears so sweet and innocent and naive, what can this boy possibly be putting up a front for. but i see it, this almost fake it till you make it confidence front that yes is becoming more natural. but my god just think about what he’s gone through for a second. think about it. left home for the first time in his life, moved to an unfamiliar and intimidating city with only one other person he knows, started a new job, started university, tried to build relationships, met a man that intrigues him, and perused him only to be kissed and then ignored, then maybe establish something tentative, only to then see him spiral, go on a trip where he shared his trauma, you have an intimate night together only to almost die, and then be not only ignored, but plain and simple rejected and pushed away. like… you can say all you want about jihyun growing as a person and having more courage, but no amount of growth for however many months this has been going on for can prepare you for that. for the mixed messages on steroids. for the back and forth, not knowing. to give yourself to someone like that and go through something traumatic and then be abandoned by that person. we get it, bc we see all of jaewon’s story. but apart from what jaewon shared at the beach, jihyun doesn’t know any more than that. he doesn’t know about therapy, about how his father acts towards him, about the extent of his trauma and how it manifests and affects his mental health, and how he is struggling every single day. and you can’t expect him to know the depths of that no matter how empathetic and connected he is, how much he cares about jaewon, he can’t be superhuman. and so you get why he pushes and fights for jaewon. like… he is in love. it’s clear. he’s fallen in love with him. he is this wide-eyed, open kid that fell in love with a senior. and jaewon has just messed with his head, he’s never been clear, and you can’t expect jihyun to just get past that bc he knows something is up with jaewon. he can’t know the full story, but even if he did, that can’t be a reason or a justification to be treated the way jaewon treats him. bc we’re all about jaewon putting himself first and doing what he wants and respecting himself like that, but jihyun deserves that too. and it’s such a fine line to tread when you know someone is going through something, bc again you understand why, but you’re still the one being treated that way. like we talk about jaewon’s trauma, but here jihyun was part of it, he went through that traumatic experience. he’s the one that nearly lost his life. and yes, he appears to handle it well, and no matter to what extent that’s true or not, you can’t not look at jaewon struggling and understand it and then not look at jihyun with that same understanding. it’s not about comparing trauma and pain and deciding who is suffering more, it’s seeing that there are two people in this, and they’ve both been affected, so we should give them the same level of understanding.

and that’s something jaewon has to see. that his self-preservation is selfish. that his destructive behavior doesn’t just affect jihyun, instead it feels pointed and directed, bc every way jaewon hurts himself hurts jihyun. and it comes bc jihyun was so much of what was good about jaewon’s life for a second, so attacking that is his only form of self-sabotage. he can’t mess up his relationship with his friends or parents bc they were broken in the first place, and he can’t sabotage his future bc it’s already been ruined the moment he didn’t pursue his photography major. him nearly getting kicked out of school affected him so little not just bc he wanted that punishment, but bc even that punishment meant so little to him. all these things are established and they already contribute to his suffering. removing jihyun from his life is the only active thing he can do to make himself feel worse, and he can veil it in an act of protection, and even feel like he’s doing the right thing, but that deceives them both into believing this is done from a good place, when no good can actually come of it. in trying to protect jihyun, you hurt him more. in trying to hurt yourself, you hurt him too. and when someone is in a headspace like jaewon is, you look for that thing that’ll break through. bc he is so distant, he’s trying to remove himself from reality, and jihyun needs to act as this person that can anchor him to it. when you’re trying to isolate and separate yourself, sometimes seeing that you still affect things, that there’s a persons that exists that is affected and hurt by your actions, and no matter how you try to cut yourself off, you cannot stop that, separating yourself still hurts them, maybe that’s a thing that can get through. but that’s something that depends on jaewon. ultimately, he’s the only one that can get himself out of this place, and that’s what makes it so hard, that no matter how much jihyun cares and how much he fights for him, nothing can come of that effort is jaewon doesn’t meet him there. and it’d be so easy for jihyun to give in, to take the hurt, but over the course of this show we’ve seen the strength jihyun has developed, which has only seemed to increase more so after the accident, call it a renewed vigor for life or something. he has the strength that jaewon doesn’t, to not let his pain consume him. and in a beautiful full-circle moment, it’s because of jaewon, bc when they first spoke he sparked in jihyun a want to be stronger, to be more than the country mouse, and he’s done it. and it’s that courage that means he can fight for jaewon, even in the face of rejection. he trusts himself and that he knows jaewon, the real jaewon, to see past words that are intended to hurt them both, and go after the person that’s still inside jaewon somewhere. no, he can’t do it for him, and no them being together is not some magical cure for jaewon, but it’s what can put him on a path of caring for himself again, and sometimes that has to start with caring about someone else (and suddenly I’m reminded of my beautiful man 2 and how kiyoi tries to break hira out of his worthless mindset by making him care about him, and how ultimately that can’t be enough, and that hira has to take those first steps of seeing his self worth by himself). what jihyun can do by fighting is again act as that tether to reality and try to be this representation of the good jaewon can be and do. bc look at jihyun, look at how confident and strong he has become, and look at how he got there, bc you saw that country mouse and gave him the time of day and helped him grow and gave him new experiences. you jaewon, you. and that shift in mindset, from jihyun representing hurt and the accident and the trauma of his brother and everything he can’t do, to being that light and refuge and everything he can do is again something that might breaks through. and the fact it has such narrative strength and satisfaction makes me hopeful that that’s what we might actually get.

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

[ozzgin]

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale. 

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him. 

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol. 

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

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[blueywrites]

baby can we smoke?

eddie munson x ditsy!fem!reader you're the last person eddie expects to leave a note in his locker, but he won't regret meeting you out by the picnic table.

2.8k

cw: 18+. innocent reader (not minor-coded), corruption kink, weed usage, allusions to smut while high, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

Another 'naughty nights' ask that got a bit lengthy (check out the original ask here). I had fun writing from this perspective! Should I continue this with a part two? 👀 Let me know what you think. (PART TWO IS HERE!)

enjoy xx

Eddie finds the note in his locker right before lunch. It's written on a quarter of a math worksheet, ripped carefully at the folds and decorated with little doodles of hearts and clouds and shooting stars drawn in sparkly purple pen. That's not the only note in there, but it’s the only one that has him curious, ‘cause it’s from you.

He stops by your lunch table just before the final bell, letting his eyes rove over you while you aren’t paying attention. You’re wearing your typical attire: a fuzzy, pastel-colored sweater, baggy and soft-looking like cotton candy, paired with a little pleated skirt and that heart locket he always sees hanging from your neck in the class you share. He hadn’t pegged you as the type of girl to smoke, and it isn’t just because of the way you look since his clientele is diverse, dips into almost every pocket of the high school social ecosystem. It’s more the way you carry yourself— you seem to kind of float through life, let it bob you about without any resistance or, like, awareness, even? Like, you hum to yourself while you take notes; you don’t talk a ton, but when you do, you’ll talk to literally anybody who’s in proximity to you, including the teachers; and you’re always either giggling or smiling or, sometimes, wearing a look of vague confusion where your glossed lips will hang open, parted in a little ‘o’ like with all your concentration focused on trying to understand something, you have nothing left over to control your face.

Eddie doesn’t wanna call you dumb because that’d make him feel like an asshole, but you just seem so… innocent to be asking him to teach you how to smoke weed. It briefly crosses his mind that someone might just be trying to fuck with him and you hadn’t actually written the note, but when you finally notice him nearby, your wispy-lashed eyes widen eagerly like you’d been expecting him. 

“Yeah, so,” you say, as if continuing a conversation you’d already been having with him, “I really wanna get high, and Susie said you’re the one who sells weed, but I just don’t know how to smoke. I’ve never done it before, not even, like, cigarettes or anything.”

You seem oblivious to the way several heads at the tables around yours swing around to stare, easily overhearing since you’re not making any effort to lower your voice. Eddie merely quirks a brow at them, and when they make eye contact with him, they turn back around. “So,” you go on, “I’d just need you to help me, show me how to smoke and stuff. Would that be okay?”

Eddie debates it for just a moment before relenting with a nod. He tells you to meet him after school at the picnic table behind the athletic fields and you agree right away, smiling up at him with an expression of such utter awe and glee that he has to stop himself from snorting in amusement. It’s funny, but it’s also kind of cute, too— Eddie doesn’t remember the last time someone was so excited at the idea of receiving his help, and your enthusiasm is endearing.

It’s simply endearing all the way up until he has you sitting facing him on the picnic bench, kicking your little feet idly while you straddle it, staring at him with that little ‘o’ face of concentration as he deftly grinds the bud. You plant your hands between your spread legs, leaning forward and watching with rapt fascination as he begins to pack the green into the paper. Your bare knees press against the inside of his, soft and warm through the rips in his jeans; his eyes flick to the hem of your skirt, the way it’s barely long enough to poke out from the pooling of sweater fabric at your lap, and he adds a bonus pinch or two to the joint. It’s fat when he finishes rolling, pinching it between two callused fingers as he tilts to the side and tugs his zippo from his pocket. The lighter draws your gaze like a fluttering moth, your attention snared by the flickering flame, and Eddie finds himself staring at you for a moment before he blinks his fascination away.

“Okay.” Eddie speaks once the paper catches, and your eyes dart from the smoldering tip to his face, expectant and waiting. You’re close enough that he can see where your mascara has flaked a little onto your lids, and from this distance, your helplessness— how dependent you are on him, how sweet and open and utterly trusting you look— elicits a pang low in his belly. He swallows. “So, you’re gonna wanna keep the smoke in your mouth first, and then inhale. Not too deep though, or else you’ll cough it all out and waste it. Here, I’ll show you.” 

Eddie watches you watch him as his lips wrap around the end of the joint and he pulls from it, fairly shallowly compared to what he’d usually do. He drops his hand so you can see, lets his cheeks puff out so you won’t miss the way he’s collecting the smoke. 

And that look on your face is so entranced, Eddie feels suddenly powerful. His chest expands on the inhale, and he smirks at you, closed-mouthed and crooked as your eyes widen at how long he holds it before he lets it billow from his nose like a dragon. That delights you, and the rest of the smoke escapes Eddie’s mouth on a raspy chuckle at how simple it is to please you.

“It’s that easy?” you ask as he waves the lingering smoke away, clearing the space between you.

“‘S that easy, sweetheart,” Eddie confirms. And he finds it curious when you bite your lip, dragging your teeth along the gloss there in such a way that it has him wondering how sticky it must feel. “You ready to give it a try?”

You nod, head bouncing like a dashboard bobblehead, but when Eddie maneuvers the joint in his fingers and holds out the end for you to take, you hesitate, fidgeting and pulling at your sweater sleeves so they cover your fingers. 

“You want me to hold it for you?” Eddie guesses, and you nod again, meeting his gaze with a sweet little grateful smile that has his belly panging again, stirring with the barest amount of low, liquid heat. He reaches out, letting his hand hover at the side of your face, hesitating as he looks to you. “Can I—?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice small and wispy in a way that isn’t helping with those stirrings he’s feeling. And your cheek is so smooth when he cups it in his hand, using the light grip to guide your face up and hold you steady for him as he brings the joint to your pouty lips. They brush Eddie’s thumb when they part for him to place the joint between them, sticking your flesh to his as you hesitantly pull the smoke into your mouth. 

“That’s it,” he rasps, merely wanting to encourage you, but you just won’t stop staring at him like that as he feeds you the hit. Like, shit, can you really blame him when the stirring creeps lower, down from his belly into his groin? Your cheeks puff up with smoke, and he can almost feel what it’d be like to see the outline of his dickhead poking out of one— all soft and slick inside, plush skin stretched tight around his—

Your hands are flapping in the air between you like you’re trying not to grab onto him, and when Eddie notices the distressed pinch between your brows, he pulls the joint hastily from between your lips. You look like a fucking chipmunk, your cheeks are so full, and Eddie realizes that as he’d zoned out thinking about his cock in your mouth, you just kept sucking and sucking ‘til you literally couldn’t anymore. 

Quickly, Eddie clutches the joint in his teeth to free his hands, gently cupping your full cheeks; sympathetic, patronizing, he says through it, “You didn’t have to— s’too much, honey, just blow a little out, okay?” 

Smoke eeks out from your pursed lips in a steady stream until he pats your face with his fingertips. “Okay, that’s enough,” he says hurriedly, lest you release the entire hit. Obedient to a fault, you are, and damn him for where his mind wanders with that information. “Now, slowly—” he tips his chin, widening his eyes for emphasis, “slowly breathe it in. Take it nice and easy.”

You do as he says, and his shoulders nearly sag with relief when you do it successfully. “Okay, hold it for a few,” he coaxes, dropping his hands and absentmindedly plucking the joint from between his teeth, watching you closely for any signs of difficulty. When you remain placid, a proud grin spreads over his face, and as the seconds tick on, you grow mutually excited, your lips pressed tight and your eyes all lit up as you look back at him. Pretty, he thinks, and then again when you finally let the breath go and smile radiantly.

“I did it!” you exclaim, drumming your sleeved hands on your thighs excitedly as you giggle.

“You did,” Eddie replies, warm and fond at the sight of your happiness and the part he played in it. He takes another hit of his own— quicker but deeper than his first— and inclines his head once he’s released it, flashing his brows encouragingly at you. “You wanna try it again?”

“Definitely,” you say, tipping your face up and leaning in expectantly. Your scent washes over him, something fruity maybe, and Eddie has to try hard not to lean further forward and drag his tongue across your lips, to pry them open and see if the inside of your mouth tastes as sweet as you smell. 

For a good while, you and Eddie trade hits back and forth, one for you for every two of his until the whites of your eyes go pink and your body loosens, unraveling upon the picnic table. You end up in a deep lean against the tabletop, your head propped in your hand, your breast squished against the wooden edge in such a way that even in that fuzzy near-shapeless sweater, the sight tantalizes him. Eddie’s feeling as high as you look, mirroring your posture with his knees spread wide, engulfing your shorter thighs in a dark frame of denim. He’s high enough that he doesn’t have that typical discomfort pinching in his chest at the silence between you, doesn’t feel the need to fill it by talking about whatever shit pops into his head. He’s consumed instead with sensation— the breeze ruffling his frizzy curls, tickling him with broken strands along his hairline; the dull crunch of old, nearly-rotted leaves under his sneakers; the hollow thrum of his pulse in his ears and the flow of living blood through his veins, cycling with each slow, rhythmic throb of his heart. And as he looks across at you— sweet, soft, sensual you — Eddie finds that since the high has his nerves all alight, he wants to touch your skin again, see how it feels now under his sensitized fingers.

The weed-haze brings with it a certain fond, almost nostalgic influence. It’s one that breaks down barriers, creates closeness where there wasn’t any, or magnifies it where there was. Your bodies are certainly closer now, sagging inward toward one another as you laze in mutual drug-induced comfort. Eddie’s used to feeling that influence, but you’re not, so when he reaches out and runs his finger down the back of your hand, you let out a small gasp at the contact. Startled, he jerks his dipping chin upright, bloodshot eyes darting to your face. But he finds no upset there, only surprise and shy pleasure painted across your features. So he plucks your hand from your lap, tugging it gently over to him and letting it rest on his thigh so he can satisfy his fascination with the texture of your skin. Your fingers twitch a little as he laces them with his, slowly dragging his fingertips through the gaps and then down your palm to your wrist. When his thumb comes back up to trace the outside of yours, you nudge into his touch, relaxing into the sensation with a languid sigh.

“Does it feel nice? The high,” he clarifies when you blink at him, droopy-lidded and wearing your little ‘o’ face. He keeps tracing along the valley of your thumb, dipping down and then back up along your index finger, enjoying the tickle of your skin against his calluses.

“Mm-hmm.” You smile, your eyes dropping to your joined hands. “Feels really nice. Kinda floaty, like my head’s not as heavy anymore.”

Eddie crooks a smile, humming his agreement. Lax and pliant, you let him continue to play with your fingers, and he’s suddenly hit with a potent impulsive urge to bring your limp hand to his mouth and nibble your fingertips, lick the smooth polish of your painted nails, suck your pinkie into his mouth and tease your skin with his tongue to see what sound you’d make. He doesn’t do that. But he does let his fingers snake under the sleeve of your fuzzy sweater, let them creep along your forearm up to the crease of your inner elbow. He drags his thumb in slow circles there, crawling around and around until he finds what he’s looking for: a sign that you feel the same stirring in your belly that he feels, revealed by the slightest whisper of a moan his touch pulls from your lips.

Encouraged, Eddie’s hands travel then— tugging out of your sleeve to smooth up your arm and over the dip of your shoulder; palming your neck, dragging up to your ear to cup around the base of your skull; ghosting across your ribcage and down to your hip; then sneaking just beneath the pleats of your tiny skirt, flexing against the hidden skin there. All the while, that liquid heat sloshes around in his belly, spreading low between his hips, dripping down to tighten in his balls and fill out his stiffening cock.

He doesn’t know exactly how it happens, but eventually, you end up laid out on the rough wood bench, your legs dangling to either side of his head as he kneels before you, nosing at the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your sigh is a shuddery, eager thing when his teeth graze the lacy edge of your cotton panties, which to his delight are swallowed up a little by the plump of your pussy lips. “Can I take these off?” Eddie asks, forcedly casual and only slightly gritty as he tries to bite back his own rabid eagerness lest he scare you off with it. But you’re quick to say yes, so quick that it tells him you want this just as much as he does, and maybe even more, though he can scarcely believe that. 

The thought makes him cocky. He eases your panties down, deliberately slow to see if you’ll get impatient. Sure enough, you wiggle your hips, whining quietly to try to hurry him; the power your neediness gives him surges with his arousal as he feels just how damp the fabric is when he balls it in his fist. Hastily, he tucks your panties into his back pocket, his eyes locked on that sweet, swollen place between your legs. 

 "Aw, look’it her,” he croons, splaying his long fingers against your inner thighs to spread you more open for him. “Can't believe you been hiding her all this time under these little skirts you wear.” 

If you’re cute, your pussy is adorable— plump like a peach, wet and ripe and glistening as he presses into your slit with his thumbs and pulls your lips apart to see more of her. She yields easily for him, splitting with a sticky click to reveal your quivering hole and your fat clit already peeking coyly from its hood. “Oh, she's so pretty, baby,” Eddie praises, his mouth watering and his cock jerking in his tight jeans, stiffening further against his zipper. “And she’s so wet already. Bet I can make 'er spit for me." 

You coo, and he lifts his head to see you biting your lip through an eager grin. "Yeah? You excited for me to touch you?" Eddie chuckles, equally fond and condescending. "Aren’t you just a sweet little thing."

“R’you gonna eat my pussy, Eddie?” you ask, and the question is so dirty but your voice sounds so goddamn innocent that he can’t help but chuckle again, this time in disbelief. 

“Yeah, baby,” he rasps, palming himself quickly over his jeans to try to bring relief because his dick is suddenly so fucking hard it aches. “I’m gonna eat your pussy.”

[awkward-walking-potato]

since everything went down and the multiverse has been saved, reader and Logan have been living with Wade. Because of that he’s gotten an inside look into their relationship. I think it would be so cute to see reader and Logan’s relationship but from wade’s perspective. Like he’ll (respectfully) watch them as reader has their head on Logan’s thigh as they show him some random funny TikTok and he sort of just rolls his eyes at it. Or Wade comes home to find the both of them passed out on the couch together while a random movie is on in the background. Just things that are really domestic, sweet, and fluffy. I think it would just be really sweet to see their relationship from a different perspective.

Domestic Bliss: A Wade Wilson Retrospective

Wade’s POV

So, I’ve been crashing at Casa de Logan for a while now. You’d think I’d have better things to do than to hang around with a grumpy Canadian mutant and their too-good-for-this-world partner, but let’s be honest—my life’s a circus, and sometimes, you just need to take a break from being the main act. Plus, it’s not like I’m going to get a better view of the Logan and Reader Show anywhere else. Honestly, it’s the most entertaining thing this side of the multiverse, and I’ve seen some Weird stuff.

Take today, for instance. I stroll into the living room, probably covered in blood—I mean, it’s a day ending in ‘y,’ so what else is new?—and there they are: Logan stretched out on the couch like it’s a throne, and Reader draped across his lap like a very happy, very contented blanket.

Reader’s got their phone in hand, showing Logan something that I’m sure is super important. Their head’s on his thigh, which—by the way—is probably the safest place on Earth, considering all the things those thighs have crushed. And Logan? He’s pretending to be all grumpy and uninterested, but I can see the way the corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s just about to smile but doesn’t want to ruin his image.

“Check this out,” Reader says, and their voice has this lilting, sweet tone to it that makes me want to gag in the most respectful way possible. They’re showing him a TikTok, and I catch a glimpse—some stupid cat video, classic Reader—and Logan, good ol’ fashioned Logan, just rolls his eyes. But—and this is the kicker—he watches the whole thing. Doesn’t pull away, doesn’t pretend like he’s not interested. Nope, he’s in it for the long haul, just for them.

I feel my heart do that thing where it’s like, ‘Hey, Wade, remember when you had feelings?’ and I quickly squash it down. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

“Really, Wade?” Logan grumbles, noticing me hovering in the doorway. “Got nothin’ better to do?”

“Not when you two are putting on this much of a show,” I reply, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Seriously, the domestic fluff is off the charts. I’m gonna need insulin if this keeps up.”

Reader snickers, throwing a pillow at me, which I catch because—duh, reflexes. Logan just huffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. If anything, I think he likes that I’m around. I mean, who wouldn’t?

A couple of days later, I get home from one of my little escapades—nothing major, just the usual chaos—and I’m greeted by a sight that nearly makes me drop my katanas. There’s Logan, all six-foot-whatever of him, curled up on the couch with Reader nestled against his chest. They’re both out cold, dead to the world, with some random movie playing in the background. The screen’s showing some cheesy 80s action flick, which, come to think of it, is probably what knocked them out in the first place.

I stand there, just watching for a minute. And I don’t say this often—like, ever—but it’s... nice. There’s something about seeing those two like this, all tangled up together, that makes the world feel a little less messed up. Like, yeah, we’ve been through hell and back saving the multiverse, but at least there’s this. At least there’s them.

I could ruin the moment. I could wake them up, crack a joke, or pull some prank. But I don’t. Instead, I quietly back out of the room, leaving them to their peaceful little bubble.

A few days later, I walk in on them again. This time, they’re in the kitchen. Logan’s making breakfast—pancakes, because apparently, he’s secretly a domestic god—and Reader’s perched on the counter, swinging their legs and chatting about something mundane. Logan’s grumbling about the batter consistency, and Reader’s laughing, this soft, sweet sound that makes Logan’s eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Morning, sunshine!” I announce, because subtlety is for suckers. “Wade,” Logan growls, but it’s the kind of growl that has zero bite. Reader just grins at me, throwing a piece of pancake my way, which I catch in my mouth because I’ve got skills.

“Y’know,” I say, leaning against the fridge, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you two are disgustingly perfect together. It’s like watching a rom-com, except with more hair and less awkward misunderstandings.”

Logan just rolls his eyes and flips a pancake. “You stickin’ around, or you got places to be?”

“Why, you gonna miss me if I go?” I tease, but honestly? I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

Logan doesn’t answer, just grunts in that Logan way of his, but I see the way his hand brushes against Reader’s knee as he moves past them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is, for them.

Maybe that’s the thing about them—about Logan and Reader. They’ve found something here, something that’s real and solid, even after everything we’ve been through. And maybe that’s why I keep sticking around, why I keep watching. Because in a world full of crazy, this right here is something worth staying for.

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ A FOOL’S MISTAKE — “It’s not like him to be so careless.” -> Dan Heng x GN reader.

Word count: 1.2k

Contains: Dan Heng x GN reader, injured Dan Heng, fluff, comfort, affection, reassurance, cuddles, kissing, indirect confession.

Sprawled across your bed, Dan Heng lays there, scrunching his brows when your hand rubs over the wound he received while with the crew. He was sent back to the Astral Express, advised by Himeko to rest for the remainder of this trip. You’ve been here for a while and are accustomed to everyone’s mannerisms, but even an outsider could tell how frustrated he was for letting his guard down so easily. It’s not like him to be so careless.

“I swear I saw you. You were there.” He grunts, his fingers creasing your sheets with the force he grips them. The ointment coats the damaged skin, aiding repair and prevention of infection.

Whatever he experienced out there has led to a set of delusions. He keeps repeating the same words as though he is in denial about the truth.

“I’ve been here with Pom-Pom the entire time. I haven’t stepped foot off of the Express since our last mission.”

“I tried to—”

“Himeko said you ran straight into the enemies. Mr. Yang called you back, but you didn’t listen to him. Whatever hallucination you had wasn’t real, Dan. I’m okay. I never left the Express.” You speak softly, attempting to calm him from his frenzied state.

“…” His eyes fluttered, releasing his clutch on the sheets. His index finger trails down the length of your arm, searching you for any wounds.

“I’m fine, I swear to you. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something like that.”

“It knew how to get to me then.” He mutters, leaving his hand flat on top of yours. “I thought you were going to die.”

“It was a cruel trick. You know the others wouldn’t let that happen so easily though.”

“Hallucination or not, I wouldn’t let you go like that. I couldn’t just watch it happen.”

“In future, please don’t rush into a hoard of creatures for me without double-checking with the others. You’re worried about me dying, but you could’ve been seriously hurt if that fight wasn’t wrapped up quickly.”

“I’m a fool.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I’m the only one who was unable to resist their manipulation. That hallucination. Everyone must have seen a different one.”

“You were just worried for my safety. I’m sure if anyone else witnessed one of us in danger, they would have had a similar reaction. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

A shaky exhale left his lips while his fingers locked with yours. His thumb brushed over the bumps of your knuckles, grounding himself from the extensive shock his body underwent. He remembers that day when he swore he would never let anything harm you, how you will always be the first one he saves. There was never a moment you doubted him, fully aware of how willing he is to throw away his own life if it means you get to live. 

“I got you a change of clothes when I heard you were hurt. I had to search through your closet, I hope you don’t mind.” You sheepishly push a fresh set of clothes towards him—the ones you usually catch him lounging in while working in the archives late at night.

“No, not at all. Thank you. I’m glad that you’re the first person I saw when I woke up.” Discarding his sombre expression, his lips twist up slightly. A subtle twinge of colour spreads across his face, scooting you aside while he sits up.

“Is the bandage too tight? I can loosen it a little if you’d like.” You glance at his bare torso, eyes lingering on his abdomen for longer than you’d like to admit. Something was alluring about him in your perspective, something that others may not see. 

“It’s fine. I appreciate the effort you put in to take care of me.” He stands to his feet, turning his back to you as he changes his attire.

When fully covered, he returns to your bed. Propping a pillow against the headboard, he pulls a blanket over himself, seemingly getting himself comfortable. It appears that he plans to stay here for the remainder of the evening, something he knows you won’t protest. Pulling you into his side, your head collides with his shoulder, a shared spell of laughter illuminating the darkness that was once cast in your room.

“I need to tell the group chat you’re okay. They were worried sick about you when you fell unconscious.” You reach for your phone, snapping a picture of the very alive Dan Heng beside you. 

Within a few seconds, multiple notifications flood your screen, mainly March and Pom-Pom, the usual dramatics when something like this occurs. Himeko sends her best wishes while Mr. Yang writes a small lecture. He doesn’t mean any harm by what he said, it’s the instinct of being a parent—he will always look out for you all, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Dan speaks up when you turn off your phone, capturing your attention.

“Don’t be. All I ask is that you don’t die without me.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Weaving his arms around you, he held you close in an embrace, the only sound filling the room being your mingled breaths completely in sync. It’s no mistake that out of everyone on the Express, Dan’s strongest connection is with you. You’re the one he turns to when he feels no one else would understand his woes, you accepted him and his stoic ways into your life without trying to change him. For that, he’s grateful. You understand that not every issue can be fixed with a smile, a snack, or a nap.

Shifting his hand from the small of your back, he pushes your chin up. You grin at him, eyes crinkling as he stares back at you. The outline of your lips is a shape he learned how to trace, now able to reconstruct it using his memory when not presented in front of him.

“I’m glad you joined the Express. Travelling through the stars together is romantic when you view it the right way. I wouldn’t want to experience that with anybody else.”

Sealing his sweet speech, he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Allowing him more space, you open your mouth slightly. Dan adored every inch of you, being granted permission to be so affectionate was merely a blessing. The heat radiating from his palms made your skin clammy, a stark contrast to his usual cold hands. 

Pulling away, your saliva remains at the corner of his mouth while he beams at you, his eyes half-lidded. His chest heaves, your lips more pronounced from the puffiness. The look in his eyes speaks words that he is not yet ready to admit, and you understand them all. When the time comes, he’ll tell you properly in the way he has planned. 

Developing an attraction to you felt like a mistake at first, he didn’t want to let you down and paint himself to be someone he’s not. However, you proved to him that you can handle all of his issues and emotions. Every flaw he possesses you manage to see the beauty—memories which used to haunt him don’t dare reside in his mind when you’re nearby. You ease the pain placed upon him.

[struggling-with-drivers]

People Watching - Lando Norris

⋗ Pairing - Lando Norris x Reader

⋗ Summary - You've never been in love, at least you don't think you have

⋗ Word count - 2k words, fluff, [Requested by Anon]

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, this was just a short cute idea I had on my mind after getting a request. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

You’re enjoying a nice lunch with Lando. He has a lot of things to be doing after, but for now. It’s just the two of you, a set of good friends. Your eyes wander over his face, a soft look of concentration is on his face as he tries to take pictures of you and your lunch. The way his lips are slightly strained, as he keeps fiddling with his camera. Then he rearranges your glasses, and then he puts them back, before rearranging them once more. 

“Do you need help?” You ask, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, as he can’t seem to get the shot he wants.

“No no, just keep sitting there, you look good!” He chirps up, quickly dismissing the thought of you moving from the pose he instructed you into. 

Your laugh finally makes it way past your lips, at the absurdity of the scene, your eyes close as the flash goes off once more. You don’t notice how Lando mutters, got it, nor how he takes a few more just for his enjoyment. 

“Time to dig in.” Lando scrambles to sit down and stuffs his mouth with his slightly cold food. 

You stick a bit to your food, but your gaze falls out onto the crowd of people navigating outside. So many couples are spread across the grid as all the fans gather to get a closer look at the cars. Despite your perspective from above, the thing most glaring to you seems to be all the hands clasped into others. 

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” 

“What?” Lando looks up from his plate of food, trying to follow your gaze, but he gets lost in the crowd of people immediately, not at all being able to figure out where your eyes are looking. 

“The elderly couple.” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing, as though there aren’t multiple, as though you and Lando didn’t call Max Verstappen and his girlfriend an elderly couple last weekend, despite Max barely being 2.5 years older than Lando and less than 2 years older than you. 

“Three days.” Lando says, voice full of conviction, “They actually met this Tuesday and have had the wildest sex for 3 days straight, before any of their children realise that their parents are missing from the nursery home.” 

You snort loudly, accidentally getting soda into your nose, making Lando laugh with you, as you struggle to breathe. 

After recovering from your soda mishap, you wipe your nose with a napkin, still chuckling. Lando grins mischievously, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you with amusement.

“Smooth move, right?” he teases, referring to his imaginative tale about the elderly couple. “I mean, who wouldn't want a love story like that? Beats the usual 'met in high school and got married' scenario.”

You both share another round of laughter, the casual banter making the lunch even more enjoyable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” You sigh wistfully as you glance down at the crowd of people once more. “Not seriously. I mean, I’ve had a fling here and there, and a few you don’t know about.”

“Ouch.” Lando mocks being hurt, as he throws a piece of lettuce in your direction. Missing you completely. He’s an excellent driver, but a terrible thrower. You’re suddenly elated that he never became a handball athlete or a basketball player. 

“I just mean, I’ve never had that big grand love moment, you know. Nobody has ever done any big gestures, I’ve never had fireworks go off during a kiss. Never pictured that American suburban picket fence dream, you know?” You rattle off as Lando leans his head to the side. You can see the grin on his face before the words leave his mouth. 

“And here I thought you loved me,” he throws another piece of lettuce in your direction. It lands on your plate, and you cock an eyebrow at him, very unimpressed. “I don’t think I know anyone else that would get up at 3 am just to make the world's worst pancakes, all because it’s some pancake holiday, and I had to be out of the door at 5 am.”

The memory of that early morning springs vividly to your mind, and you can't help but chuckle at the recollection.

The night before Pancake Day, you meticulously planned your pancake surprise for Lando. You envisioned a perfect morning: the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting through the air, the joy on Lando's face as he discovered the delightful breakfast you had prepared just for him. However, the universe had other plans.

At 3 am, you tiptoed into the kitchen, trying your best to be as quiet as a ninja. Armed with a box of pancake mix, a whisk, and an optimistic spirit, you were ready to conquer the culinary world for the sake of surprising your friend.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you moved with caution, not wanting to wake anyone up. As you began mixing the ingredients, you felt a surge of determination. This was going to be the breakfast surprise of the century. You even hummed a little tune as you worked, believing that love and effort could conquer any culinary challenge.

However, in your sleepy stupor, you made a crucial mistake. The sugar and salt containers looked eerily similar in the low light, and without double-checking, you confidently poured what you thought was sugar into the mix. Little did you know, you had just set the stage for a disastrous flavour profile.

Undeterred, you moved on, mistakenly grabbing the baking powder instead of the baking soda. As you mixed the concoction, the batter started to take on an unusual texture, but you pressed on, convinced that your culinary masterpiece was just a few flips away.

With the batter ready, you heated the pan and poured the first pancake, envisioning its perfect golden-brown finish. However, the sizzle that followed was more like a hiss, and the kitchen started to fill with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to fan away the smoke, hoping that the burnt scent wouldn't reach Lando's bedroom.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. As the smoke thickened, a piercing sound echoed through the apartment – the unmistakable wail of the smoke detector. Panic set in, and you rushed to open windows, waving a towel at the alarm, and desperately trying to save the surprise.

Meanwhile, Lando stirred in his sleep, disturbed by the cacophony of the smoke detector. He stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and disoriented, only to find you amid your culinary chaos, smoke billowing around you.

“Ah, Pancake Day,” you say with a grin. “I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you with a breakfast feast before your busy day. On the other hand, I gave you a free day off from having to sit in on a bunch of meetings.”

“Yeah, because my house nearly burnt down, and a bunch of firefighters showed up.” Lando waves his fork at you. “I doubt a lot of other people would have done that.”

“Tried to burn down your flat?” You mock him, as you flick the piece of lettuce back to his plate. 

He laughs, shaking his head. You’re missing his point, but he’s also not attempting to make it clearer for you. 

“What about when I stay up with you on the phone, because a sale is starting past midnight, but you’re barely holding it together and it’s not even 10 pm? Isn’t that an act of love?” He asks, but he leaves no room for you to answer his question as he goes back to eating. 

Lando can’t see the storm that’s slowly brewing behind your eyes, as you go over memories of your friendship. All the small things you do for each other. All the time you spend together. 

As the memories flood your mind, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The snippets of shared moments and small gestures between you and Lando become a cherished montage.

There's the time when he surprised you with a playlist of your favourite songs on a day when you were feeling down, the carefully curated mix capturing the essence of your friendship. You remember the genuine joy on his face as he handed over the playlist, completely aware of how much music meant to you.

Then, there are the instances when you stayed up late into the night, listening to his racing stories and sharing in his victories and disappointments. You recall the laughter and camaraderie that transcended the distance, making those late-night conversations a treasured part of your connection.

Lando smirks mischievously as he eyes the last bite of your dessert.

"Mind if I grab that last piece? You know I need the extra energy for my thrilling life as a driver."

You narrow your eyes at him, holding the fork protectively. "Oh, please. The only thrill you get is trying to beat me at Mario Kart."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I'll have you know that being a Mario Kart champion requires skill and precision. It's practically a training regimen for the racetrack."

You scoff, taking a deliberate bite of the dessert. "Skill and precision? Last time I checked, you kept getting stuck in the void on Rainbow Road."

"That was a strategic move. I needed a better view of the stars," he replies with a grin, trying to swipe the fork again.

You playfully slap his hand away. "Nice try, but you're not getting this last piece. I already had to fight off your trainer once this month, because you keep stealing my food."

Lando feigns offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I don't have the physique of a finely tuned athlete?"

"I'm saying you have the physique of someone who eats all the desserts that aren’t meant for finely-tuned athletes," you retort, 

He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, at least I can burn it off on the track. What's your excuse?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I burn calories, dodging your attempts to steal my food. It's a full-body workout, really."

"Fair enough. But mark my words, next time we play Mario Kart, you won't stand a chance." Lando laughs, shaking his head. 

"Bring it on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting with banana peels and blue shells," you challenge, finishing the dessert triumphantly, savouring the last bite right in front of him. Silence falls as he starts typing on his phone, and your mind gets distracted by what he said earlier.

As Lando mentioned, the nights when he stood by you during stressful sales and business endeavours resurface in your mind. The unwavering support he offered, even when the clock struck midnight and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, painted a picture of love in the small actions.

And of course, there are the countless times when he'd spontaneously pop by with your favourite snacks or the coffee blend you adore, just because he remembered. Those little acts of consideration spoke volumes.

Lost in these memories, you realise that love comes in various forms. It's not always grand gestures or sweeping romantic moments. It's found in the everyday kindness, the shared laughter, and the unwavering support that defines your friendship with Lando.

A thought strikes you down.

Do you love Lando?

Lando glances up from his phone, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He meets your gaze, and there's a silent understanding between you. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of shared laughter, failed pancake attempts, and genuine care, you realise that love, in its purest form, is already present in the beautiful tapestry of your friendship with Lando.

An even more terrifying thought hits you as he looks at you with that soft smile and those shiny eyes. 

Does Lando love you?

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, I had a lot of fun writing this small piece, it was just pure fluff and enjoyment

[won4kiss]

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY.

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. boyfriend! lee heeseung x fem! reader synopsis. in which your relationship with heeseung has been falling apart,, and he realizes far too late. (drabble). genre. angst ,, wc. 1200. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ I’ve been so angsty.. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

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THE CITY LIGHTS OF SEOUL CAST A DIM GLOW THROUGH THE CURTAINS, GIVING THE LIVING ROOM A SOFT, MELANCHOLIC HUE. you sit on the edge of the couch, your fingers gripping the cushion fabric tightly as you watch heeseung pace back and forth. the tension in the room is unavoidable, a storm brewing between you both that you can no longer hold back.

“i just don’t understand why you can’t see it from my perspective, y/n” heeseung’s voice breaks through the silence, his frustration evident. his normally warm eyes filled with love are now filled with a mix of anger and hurt, emotions that you rarely see in him.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “it’s not that i don’t see it, hee. it’s just that you never listen to me either. it’s always about your schedule, your fans, your career. what about us? what about me? it’s unfair…”

he stops pacing and turns to face you, his brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “are you fucking serious? you think i don’t care about us? everything i do, i do it for us, for our future.”

“do you?” you ask, your voice trembling at the visible anger in his voice. “because it feels like i’m always the one compromising. i’m always the one waiting, always the one understanding. when do you make time for me? you can’t expect me to just sit here silently and take all this.”

heeseung runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you know he does when he’s stressed. “you knew what you were getting into when we started this, i warned you. you knew my life would be demanding and time consuming.”

“i didn’t know it would be this hard,” you whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. “i didn’t know i would feel so lonely even when i’m right here with you.”

the room falls silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. heeseung looks at you, his hard glare softening as he takes in your expression.

he takes a step closer. “i never wanted you to feel lonely honey, i thought… i thought we were okay.” he says placing his hand on your cheek as you softly take it off, heeseung noticing the gesture as he looks down in shame.

you wipe away a tear, your voice breaking. “we’re not okay, heeseung. we haven’t been for a while, and you know it. i’ve tried to be strong, to support you, but it’s exhausting. i miss you even when you’re right here, i miss the old you, not the heeseung who acts like spending time with me is an obligation.”

heeseung kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. his touch is warm, familiar, but it doesn’t bring the comfort it used to. “i miss you too baby, i promise I’m still the same heeseung” he says as his voice breaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m so sorry baby, you know i love you.”

you look into his eyes, searching for the sincerity in his words. you see it there, but it’s not enough to mend the damage that has been done in your heart. “missing each other isn’t enough, heeseung. we need more than that. we need to actually be there for each other.”

he squeezes your hands gently, his eyes pleading. “tell me what to do. tell me how to fix this. i don’t want to lose you, i’m not letting you go.” tears brimming in his eyes, desperate.

you sigh, pulling your hands away. “i don’t know if it’s something you can fix hee, i think… i think we need time apart to figure out what we really want and need.”

heeseung’s face falls, the colour draining from his cheeks. “t-time apart? you’re breaking up with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, your heart aching at the sight of his heart broken expression. “i just… i need space to think. we both do. maybe then we can come back and make this work, all we do is argue, heeseung.”

he stands up slowly, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “if that’s what you want.”

“it’s not what i want,” you say, your voice cracking. “but it’s what we need. i love you, heeseung, but love isn’t enough right now.”

he nods, swallowing hard. “i get it. i don’t like it, but i get it.”

you stand as well, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you’re trying to hold yourself together. “i’m sorry it’s come to this.”

heeseung steps forward, hesitating before pulling you into a tight embrace. you cling to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears you’ve been holding back finally fall. he rests his chin on top of your head, his own tears rolling down his cheeks, dampening your hair.

“me too, honey” he whispers. “i’m so sorry.”

you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, holding each other as if it’s the last time as the dim lights of seoul shine down on you. in some ways, it feels like it is the last time you’ll be in each others embrace. when you finally pull away, the distance between you feels even bigger.

heeseung walks you to the door, holding his tears back as his hand lingers on the doorknob. “take care of yourself, okay?”

“you too,” you reply, giving him a small, sad smile. “i hope we can fix this, hee.”

“me too,” he says again, his voice barely audible.

you step outside, before you could walk away you feel a grip on your wrist.

“i love you, i always will.” heeseung whispers.

you give him a broken smile as you pull your arm out of his grasp.

“i love you too..”

you reply as you finally leave the apartment along with the love of your life. the cool night air hitting your tear-streaked face. as you walk away, you can’t help but glance back, seeing heeseung standing in the doorway, watching you go. the sight breaks your heart all over again, you want to run back to him, to be with him forever, but you force yourself to keep walking.

back in the apartment, heeseung closes the door and leans against it, sliding down to the floor. the silence is deafening, the absence of your presence a constant reminder of what he’s lost. he covers his face with his hands, finally letting the sobs he’s been holding back escape.

the record player continues to spin, a melody echoing off the walls of the empty room;

"happiness is a butterfly

try to catch it like every night

it escapes from my hands into moonlight"

his body shakes with his sobs as the song plays on, your favourite song. heeseung realizes that happiness, like a butterfly, is fragile and fleeting. and in that moment, he vows to do whatever it takes to catch it again, to hold onto the love that he wholeheartedly knows he can’t live without.

© won4kiss

[novafire-is-thinking]

Medic, Maverick, Maniac, Murderer: Understanding Pharma

First thing’s first: I love Pharma, dearly.

In all the time I’ve spent evaluating his character, I’ve mainly focused on what can be worked out about who he is as an individual: his core sense of self, psychological drives, subjective worldview, etc.

When all else is stripped away, who is Pharma?

This treatise is the product of obsessing over Pharma, analyzing canon (and extras), and reading as many different perspectives on his character from fans across the fandom. The post is long, so for those of you who balk at the thought of reading a shortfic’s worth of Pharma thoughts, feel free to read the TL;DR (Conclusion) at the end and then decide if the full read is worth your time. Also, a premium reading experience is available in the form of the original Google Doc version.

As you read, keep in mind that this is primarily a mix of psychoanalysis, evidence-based examination, and speculation—not moral, ethical, or sociological commentary. The goal is to examine Pharma’s psychological drives and core values, and each of his appearances in the context of those. All other types of evaluation are up to readers.

Now, take your victim blaming-allergy meds (just in case); remove your black-and-white thinking caps; and leave your personal morality lenses at the door.

Psychological Drives & Core Values

Why does Pharma act the way he does? What gives him a reason to keep living? What are his personal priorities?

At the beginning of the Delphi arc, First Aid establishes Pharma as a “control freak” and someone who “thinks he’s an expert on everything.”

Now, First Aid has a habit of complaining about his bosses, but on both points, there’s canon evidence to back them both.

Expertise and Intellect

Throughout the Delphi and Luna 1 arcs, it’s established that Pharma is a skilled and brilliant doctor.

He once performed a 4-way fuel pump transplant, donating his own fuel pump in the process. (see above panel)

Later, he invented a soundbomb that left an echo laced with a virus and invented an antidote to that virus:

And on Luna 1, he was on the edge of finding a cure for Cybercrosis, based on the fact that Swerve was able to formulate a cure from his notes.

More than being a doctor, Pharma lives for intellectual and scientific achievement as a physician scientist. He feels most alive when he’s able to solve complex medical problems, and when his achievements are recognized by those whose opinion he considers important.

This is Pharma’s 'why.'

And even though he’s arrogant and enjoys praise, it’s not his primary motivation. He doesn’t need it in order to set his mind to whatever he’s interested in, although he’ll seek it from those he values most (i.e. Ratchet).

Pharma sees himself as less of a doctor, and more as a scientific innovator or medical maverick. The practice of medicine is primarily a catalyst for his creativity and intellect; it’s not an end in and of itself like it is for someone like Ratchet or First Aid.

First Aid’s observation of Pharma can be better phrased as, “[Pharma] thinks he’s an expert on everything medical”—because he’s not so driven by achievement and admiration that he’ll grovel at the feet of strangers and get good at something he doesn’t personally find interesting. The only time we see him express a desire for praise is when he’s around Ratchet—someone he holds in high regard for both personal and professional reasons. This makes sense since Ratchet is one of the only people who can give Pharma any kind of competition within what he considers to be his area of expertise.

“Each day we go to our work in the hope of discovering—in the hope that some one, no matter who, may find a solution of one of the pending great problems—and each succeeding day we return to our task with renewed ardor; and even if we are unsuccessful, our work has not been in vain, for in these strivings, in these efforts, we have found hours of untold pleasure, and we have directed our energies to the benefit of mankind.” —Nikola Tesla

Ego

Without question, Pharma has an inflated ego, but having an inflated sense of self doesn’t automatically mean a person is a full-blown narcissist or that they are totally uncaring.

Every personality trait exists on a spectrum. Yes, Pharma is arrogant, but the presence of arrogance doesn’t automatically and completely cancel out all “positive” traits. (For fun, check out studies on Dark Tetrad and Light Triad personality traits.)

People are complex. Arrogance can coexist with genuine kindness, ruthlessness can coexist with deep compassion, etc.

Whether Pharma exhibits genuine kindness is up to each reader’s interpretation of what little canon material exists, but the point is: Pharma’s arrogance doesn’t automatically rule out the possibility of authentic “positive” traits.

Controlling Tendencies

Pharma is comfortable pulling the power card and using it to dump what he sees as uninteresting parts of medical practice on those below him:

“So Fisitron’s writing about the Wreckers’ elbows now, is he?” said Delphi’s Chief Medical Officer. “Come on, First Aid - get to it. You’ve got a Fader in Row 2 downstairs.” He squeezed the air with his finger and thumb. “He’s about this far from shutdown.” —from Bullets by James Roberts

However, there’s nothing in canon indicating he’s power-hungry in a megalomaniacal sense. He’s not Starscream or Megatron; he doesn’t seek political or social power. In fact, he seems perfectly happy hiding away in a lab or medibay by himself so he can direct all his energy to solving issues and achieving the so-called ‘impossible’ within the field of medicine:

The ways in which Pharma exercises power and control are through his expertise, and his administrative/management skills. That’s it.

Self-confidence

Pharma’s arrogance and controlling tendencies don’t seem to be a mask—like he’s trying to compensate for some sense of lack (in those areas). Yes, he fears failure, and yes, he displays some insecurity when Ratchet questions his competence. But at every other point and in every other way, Pharma is unapologetically self-confident. He’s fully self-assured of his intellectual prowess and problem-solving capabilities; he knows what he knows, and he also knows what he doesn’t know.

Pharma’s arrogance and desire for control don’t stem from a hidden lack of confidence or a hunger for power on its own. They stem from the fact that he genuinely sees himself as the best person for the work he does. He trusts himself above anyone else to solve problems that come his way—medical or otherwise (within limits).

Elitism vs. Superiority

I’ve always read Pharma as having an elitist attitude, but not in the social stratification sense:

elitist (adj.) relating to or supporting the view that a society or system should be led by an elite.

There’s no evidence that Pharma believes an elite class of people should hold the most power. Instead, Pharma’s “elitism” is actually an individualistic sense of superiority. It’s centered on him alone, and is tied to his capabilities as a physician scientist and surgeon.

Pharma sees himself as the best of the best and makes sure everyone knows it—sometimes through his words, but mostly by his conduct in the field of medicine. This, paired with Pharma’s natural temperament, doesn’t exactly make him socially popular—inside or outside of medicine:

One could argue that the “personality” Lockdown is referring to was a result of all Pharma had suffered at Delphi and Luna 1, but just as easily, one could argue he was always a bit difficult to get along with, and that his traumatic experiences merely magnified his already-present psychological patterns. Personally, I like the latter interpretation because it’s a flaw that makes Pharma a more interesting character no matter his mental state.

Everyone reacts differently to real and perceived social rejection. Some are so concerned about it that they’ll try anything to belong; others genuinely don’t care, and they continue as usual; and still others cope by shifting their mindset and developing a sense of pride in being an outsider.

There’s no evidence for this in canon, but I believe it’s within reasonable characterization boundaries to headcanon Pharma as being in the second or third category.

With either of those two mindsets, a sense of superiority can develop, or even be an inciting factor. Either someone sees themselves as genuinely superior to the majority and doesn’t mind when this alienates them from people, or they convince themselves they’re superior because the pain of accepting they were rejected for who they are is too much to handle.

Whatever the case, the point is, having an “elitist” attitude isn’t necessarily rooted in a sociological or ideological belief. Sometimes, individuals just see something in themselves that—to them—justifies a sense of personal superiority. A quick glance at Pharma’s canon appearances makes it clear he holds such a view of himself, at least to some degree.

Morality and Compassion

When Pharma first shows up in canon, he’s working at the New Institute. A lot of questionable things took place there on a regular basis—things Pharma would have been aware of, to some degree. However, his presence at the Institute doesn’t automatically mean he agreed with everything happening. Depending on how strongly someone feels about something, some people are content to disagree in silence. Not everyone who seeks employment considers it a priority that the establishment they work for aligns perfectly with their moral values. After all, there are other reasons to take a job: financial benefits, exclusive educational and career opportunities, pure convenience, etc.

I’m not here to say either way whether Pharma’s willingness to turn a blind eye to the events at the New Institute was wrong or right; that’s up to each reader to decide for themselves. However, Pharma’s choice to remain employed at the Institute for some time can say something about him as a character: his priority as a doctor and person is not to take care of everyone he encounters, or to act as some kind of moral or ethical authority.

This isn’t to say Pharma won’t ever stand up for something he regards as right or push back against something he sees as wrong, “off screen.” It’s just that everything in canon points more to a tendency to choose his battles instead of acting immediately on any moral sense the way someone like Optimus or Ratchet might.

This also isn’t to say Pharma doesn’t care about saving lives, but from what little is shown of him before Delphi, it’s hard to say how much he cared. Ratchet confirms later that Pharma was an excellent doctor for most of his life, but all that tells us is he was an excellent doctor; it says nothing about his internal attitude toward his work or patients.

However, inferences can be made based on doctors in our own world:

Being a doctor—especially one in trauma care—is far from easy. It takes a lot out of a person, and there are very few people who last in the profession for a long time. Most medical professionals fall into one of the following categories:

People possessing a strong will that’s coupled with an unwavering passion for taking care of others (the public’s favorite)

People who naturally have, or develop, an ability to switch their empathy off and on at will, or build walls around it—also possessing a strong will (the ideal)

People who naturally have a limited capacity for empathy (the one the public hates to acknowledge)

People with a strong social and professional support system (the necessary, but underutilized and underappreciated factor)

Of course, even if a person has one or more of the above, burnout can and does still happen, but individuals who have at least one have the best chances of surviving and thriving amidst the demands of the majority of medical professions.

As far as is shown in canon, Pharma never had a strong support system—either circumstantially or by choice—so something else was keeping him in medicine.

Pharma shows concern for both Tumbler (Chromedome) and Hubcap:

But even though he obviously cared enough to step in, neither instance makes a strong case for a capacity for empathy beyond the “average” or “norm.” Performing a job well is a lot different from being personally invested in the work.

Based on everything up to this point, and this later comment from Pharma, about Ratchet…

…Pharma has probably never shared the same I-care-about-everything-and-everyone view of the world. Instead, it’s more likely that Pharma holds a more rational view of his work and patients.

One of the first things learned in medicine, especially in trauma medicine, is that you can’t help or save everyone, and to hold yourself to that standard can destroy you quickly if you have a certain temperament or lack healthy boundaries for your empathy.

“There are times when it may seem as though I view sick or injured people not as living, breathing humans with feelings and emotions and people who love them, but simply as cases, as problems to be solved. And that is absolutely true. It's not that I don't have empathy, but the hard fact is that as a doctor, and especially as a trauma surgeon, too much empathy can get in the way of your job and cause you to make decisions based not on sound medical judgment but on your own emotions. Sure, I've seen things that even years later can still make me choke up when I think of them: a little girl shot and killed, a shattered young Marine who shouldn't have died but did. But you can't choke up in the ER or the operating room. To be effective as a trauma surgeon, you have to put a layer of Kevlar around your heart.” —Dr. Peter Rhee, Trauma Red: The Making of a Surgeon in War and in America’s Cities*

Pharma may have learned this difficult truth earlier than Ratchet and developed a practical way of managing his empathy that comes across as “cold.” He may have always had an ability to put up walls around his spark. Or, he may have always had little to no capacity for empathy.

The fact that the morality lock on Tyrest’s portal prevented Pharma from passing through proves he felt guilty for what he’d done, and JRO confirmed this. Therefore, it’s safe to assume Pharma had some level of empathy for his former patients, suffering moral injury when he felt he had no other option but to start killing them.

Still, looking at Pharma’s psychological drives and his behavior throughout canon, it’s clear compassionate care and morality are subordinate to his other values and interests.

*I highly recommend this book, and learning about Dr. Rhee in general. He’s a huge inspiration of mine, and one of my main sources of inspiration when writing Pharma. Level-headed and capable, strong-willed, selectively empathetic, an excellent scientist, etc. He lives for the thrill of practicing medicine both on the floor and as an expert in his field who pushes trauma medicine to new heights through his research. He also takes great pride in his hands. Seriously—the man spent an entire paragraph and a half talking about his “good hands” and how they were one of two reasons he decided to go into trauma surgery. The other reason was that he “liked action and excitement, liked the feeling of being able to walk into a tough situation and take control.” (Sounds familiar…)

Delphi

First thing’s first: we don’t know how much Pharma did or didn’t know about the DJD before agreeing to take the Delphi assignment.

That far into the war, he would have known something about the DJD and their ways of terrorizing traitors and Autobots, but for whatever reason, he took the assignment anyway. Perhaps Prowl assured him the situation on Messatine would be monitored and that the security team would be enough. Perhaps he underestimated the DJD’s capabilities, or scale of territory, and thought he would be able to handle things on his own. Perhaps Prowl gave him no choice. Maybe it was all of these and more.

Whatever the case, according to JRO, Pharma didn’t hate Delphi before the incident with the DJD.

Word of god remains a touchy subject in fandom, but in this case, it’s important because it says two things:

The DJD left the Delphi medical team alone for some time.

Being on the edges of DJD territory didn’t automatically mean isolation and harassment by their hand.

On the second point, First Aid was free to come and go from Messatine as he pleased, seeing as he attended a medical conference at Kimia five years into his assignment at Delphi:

Five years ago [mid-Delphi assignment], the leader of the Wreckers had cornered him at a medical conference at Kimia, the space station that doubled as a weapons research facility. —from Bullets

And five years after that, he was able to not only contact Springer without delay about one of Agent 113’s bullets he’d discovered in an Autobot badge…

He raced upstairs to his computer terminal and typed in a certain frequency code for the second time in his life. A face appeared on the screen and grinned. “It’s me,” said First Aid. “And you're never gonna guess what I’ve got for you..!”

…but he was also able to meet up with Springer to hand off the bullet:

“Your friend has a funny way of making contact,” First Aid had said when he’d got in touch three days earlier, and he was right.

It’s not known if this handoff happened on or off world, but either way, the DJD didn’t interfere.

At some point, Tarn set his sights on Pharma and the Delphi team. Knowing the DJD, one can only imagine what Tarn used to show off his team’s capabilities and convince Pharma the best option was to cooperate.

In striking a deal with Tarn to keep the DJD away from Delphi, Pharma established his territory and ensured his continued security and the safety of his staff. As long as Tarn got his T-cogs, Pharma could continue on in relative peace. He could work his magic on bots that ended up at Delphi, carry out his management duties, and work on whatever projects or research he may have been conducting in his free time.

For whatever reason, after he first came into contact with Tarn, Pharma didn’t call for help. Communications were still operational, as Pharma wouldn’t have suggested contacting High Command about the Duobots if the team was aware of any comm malfunctions:

Also, First Aid later confirms that communications were fine until the Big Bang (soundbomb detonation):

It’s always possible the DJD was monitoring the radio waves, but secure subspace frequencies exist, such as the Datalog Network First Aid used to send the datalog containing the death statistics:

Speaking of which, assuming First Aid sent the datalog with the statistics right when things started to get ‘weird,’ and before the Big Bang shut down comms, it only took—at most—a few days for them to reach Ratchet and Swerve on the Lost Light:

But back to Pharma not calling for help: for all of Prowl’s intel, contingency planning, and fretting over the security of Autobot territories, I find it hard to believe he would have stuck an Autobot medical team on the fringes of DJD territory without giving them some means of securely contacting the outside in case of issues.

But even if Prowl didn’t give Pharma a secure way to contact him or anyone else, and even if Pharma was convinced the DJD was monitoring regular communications, there were other ways he could have reached out for help. After all, the team wasn’t alone on Messatine. Like Pharma said, Prowl continued to send bots to defend the nucleon mines:

The Autobots had been mining nucleon for millions of years at this point, so I doubt the mined nucleon was just sitting in storage on Messatine; shipments of the stuff would have been sent off-world to wherever the Autobots needed it. Why not send a message for Prowl with someone leaving with one of those shipments? A message meant only to be sent over a call when absolutely certain they were out of range of the DJD’s potential monitoring.

Or, why not order in off-world medical supplies and send a message back with the delivery bot(s)?

There are two possible answers to this. One takes into account JRO’s word on the subject; the other is more intricate and speculative on my part, but it leads to the same place. So whatever your stance is on the validity of word of god, there’s an answer for you.

Answer one (word of god)

Simple as that. Pharma was aware of the scope of the DJD’s capabilities and relentlessness, and determined he was trapped prey.

Answer two (no word of god)

There are a few possible reasons Pharma didn’t call for help right away:

He was convinced all his other options would take too long and/or would still lead to him being put under suspicion. After all, being found to have harvested even a single T-cog from an already-dead patient for the DJD could have raised concerns that would lead to Pharma being investigated and/or having a mark put on his record.

He underestimated the severity of Tarn’s addiction, and was certain he could keep up with the T-cog demand without resorting to other means of harvesting, not realizing Tarn’s quota would increase later on.

He was already paranoid as a result of whatever mind games Tarn had set in motion at their first meeting, making Pharma think escape was futile.

Word of god or no word of god, there are clear reasons as to why Pharma ended up trapped. Most likely, it was a mix of all of the above.

Whatever was going on in Pharma’s mind before, he ended up in deeper trouble. Tarn increased his demand for T-cogs, and Pharma couldn’t keep up. By the time this happened, even if he had wanted to call for help, it was too late to do so without implicating himself. He reasoned his only option was to start killing patients to harvest their T-cogs.

Soon, Pharma was so consumed with fretting over whether he’d be able to meet Tarn’s next demand that he didn’t have time or freedom to do anything else except worry and feel guilty. His whole life revolved around Tarn’s addiction; he was no longer in control, and could no longer enjoy whatever it was about Delphi he’d previously enjoyed. Perhaps the facility itself enabled Pharma to research cures and perform scientific miracles of medicine.

Being at the mercy of Tarn—convinced the DJD would find him no matter what—would have been pure psychological torture on its own, but also knowing that any small chance he did have of getting help would end in him losing everything would have added to his suffering. Pharma became desperate to reclaim control over his life and began planning an escape.

Now, JRO has said that Pharma didn’t originally plan to use the rust plague on the DJD…but canon says otherwise:

Of course, Pharma could have been lying to make himself look better in Ratchet’s view, but based on everything he’d been through up to this point with Tarn, it’s more likely he was telling the truth and had tried to eliminate the source of his suffering first. After all, wiping out the DJD would have been the simpler, cleaner option.

When the Duobots refused to detonate the soundbomb near the DJD, Pharma’s objectives shifted. He had to get Delphi shut down in a way that would:

Convince the DJD the shutdown was legitimate.

Pharma knew chances of escaping the DJD at all were slim to none, but he was desperate. Getting Delphi shut down would cut off Tarn’s supply of T-cogs and allow Pharma to escape Tarn’s immediate control, but the shutdown had to be “legitimate” to prevent Tarn from retaliating and hunting him down later. Leaving Tarn even the slightest chance of regaining control was too risky, so Pharma had to make sure his plan was as airtight as possible. 

Cover up the patient murders.

If the truth got out about Pharma killing patients, he’d lose his medical license and most likely be put away for life. Being cut off from the practice of medicine and his intellectually stimulating work as a doctor would mean losing more than a job and a reputation. It would mean losing everything in which he’d anchored his sense of identity and life’s meaning. His refusal to consider any other options wasn’t just about ego and preserving his image as an excellent doctor; it was about preserving any kind of meaningful future he saw for himself.

Pharma needed a plan that would fulfill all of the above. Turning the engineered virus on the medical facility was the most effective and efficient solution. Anything else would have made him suspicious in the view of either Autobot High Command or the DJD, and neither of those would have ended well for him.

Because of his goal to preserve his reputation and future in medicine, he couldn’t even risk revealing anything to First Aid or Ambulon, who would have seen to his ruin. They became nothing more than loose ends that had to be tied up, and based on the fact that Pharma only prepared one vial of the vaccine, his original plan involved him being the only survivor:

He probably would have had no problem making more of the vaccine for anyone else who survived, but he wasn’t counting on it. He wanted a totally clean slate; in letting his staff die with most of his patients, he would be getting rid of any and all evidence and reminders of his failures. He may have cared about First Aid and Ambulon before things got bad, but somewhere along the way, he decided either it wasn’t worth it to go through the trouble of finding a way to save them without raising suspicion, or he didn’t want to risk them putting together the pieces later on.

Of course, when Ratchet showed up, plans changed.

Ratchet

Ratchet is not the kind of person who seeks first to understand or be understanding. He’s inclined to trust what’s in front of him over anything abstract, and tends to look at the results of someone’s actions over trying to find any kind of ‘why’ behind them. Also, unlike Pharma, he operates from a strong moral sense, and reacts quickly and strongly when something or someone goes against that internal moral sense.

Ratchet’s reaction to finding out what Pharma did may seem hasty and harsh, but it makes perfect sense on a human level. There is no such thing as unconditional love; everyone has personal and moral lines (boundaries), and they’re different for each individual. When the most rigid of lines is crossed, that’s it; walls go up and the offender is cut off, no matter how strong the relationship may have been.

Ratchet obviously knew Pharma well enough to think he could try talking some sense into him, but then Pharma revealed that he’d crossed one of Ratchet’s lines: murdering patients. Any willingness Ratchet may have had to try to understand vanished. By the time Pharma started trying to provide a ‘why’ for his actions, Ratchet’s moral judgment had already shut down any chance of understanding what could have possibly led Pharma to kill patients. It didn’t help that Pharma seemed totally unapologetic and outright proud of his plan. For Ratchet, the ‘why’ didn’t matter anymore. What he saw was what he trusted, and what he saw was a friend who’d become his idea of a monster.

Now, Ratchet and Pharma’s relationship is one of the most confusing IDW relationships I’ve had the pleasure and pain of dissecting.

It is notoriously difficult to determine the depth and strength of a relationship from the outside. However, I’ve decided to go ahead and address it anyway because it has the potential to provide insight into Pharma as an individual.

If I were to sum up Pharma and Ratchet’s relationship in a single word, I would use “ambivalent.” The first time I read MTMTE, the thing that stood out to me most about their relationship was the drastic differences between how they each perceived the relationship.

In one sense, there’s the idea of Pharma basically being Ratchet’s crazy stalker ex, which is tossed around in fandom a lot. While I personally dislike seeing it regardless of context (yes, even as a joke), I do see how JRO’s writing choices set things up in a way that makes it easy to superimpose that trope.

In another sense, there’s the idea that Pharma and Ratchet were always close friends, and that what happened at the end of the Delphi story was a betrayal of both sides that came out of nowhere and whose consequences were taken too far.

I disagree with both. Personally, what I see at the end of the Delphi story isn’t an obsessed ex gone mad, a sudden betrayal, or a badly executed backstabbing. What I see is a breakdown of an already-complicated and poorly-maintained relationship: true feelings being revealed, long-repressed bitterness being forced to the surface, carefully-hidden cracks being split wide open.

Most people don’t have an accurate understanding of how much or how little they truly know the people in their lives, often overestimating how well they know a person until something surfaces and blindsides them.

According to JRO, Ratchet was oblivious to Pharma’s romantic interest, and throughout canon, it’s easy to see Pharma was more invested in the relationship than Ratchet ever was.

The question is, did Ratchet ever care about Pharma at all? And if so, to what degree?

Yes, Ratchet calls Pharma “buddy” and “friend,” but the former was sarcastic, and the latter means something different to each person. Also, in light of the circumstances, Ratchet could have just been saying “friend” in response to Pharma saying it—an emotional appeal more than anything.

However, Pharma must have been aware of Ratchet’s lack of relational investment because during the confrontation at Delphi, Pharma’s first reaction wasn’t to appeal to their friendship (ex: “But you know me!”). Instead, he appealed to their shared profession:

Then there’s the exchange of insults: 

This is what I meant earlier by “true feelings being revealed.” Ratchet may have just been trying to match Pharma’s insult, but it’s unlikely it was merely reciprocal because while Ratchet is snarky at times, he’s sincere in that snark. There’s almost always some truth in his verbal jabs no matter how unserious they seem, and he’s never cruel for cruelty’s sake.

So, if Pharma saw Ratchet as an inferior doctor, and Ratchet saw Pharma as an inferior Autobot…it’s reasonable to assume there was always some deep-rooted competition and conflict preventing them from being super close.

Possible suspicion surrounding Pharma’s conduct as an Autobot paired with a tendency to misjudge the nuances of relationships could explain why Ratchet was so quick to decide Pharma was a lost cause. Maybe Pharma’s actions at Delphi confirmed something from the past that Ratchet had brushed off for whatever reason.

In any case, Ratchet seems to have been largely unaffected by the Pharma he found at Delphi. While leaving Messatine, he emphasizes that he’ll miss Pharma’s talent.

Not “who he used to be.”

Not “what we used to have.”

Just…“his talent.”

Later, on Luna 1, Pharma mentions that he and Ratchet were inseparable, but that could mean a few different things:

Best case scenario: Pharma and Ratchet sought each other out on equal terms.

Worst case scenario: Pharma followed Ratchet around.

Somewhere in the middle: the job forced Pharma and Ratchet to work in close proximity most of the time, and while Pharma intentionally ran into Ratchet more often than necessary, Ratchet also sought out Pharma every now and then.

Whatever the case, working with someone every day doesn’t tell you anything about who they are as a person, and the amount of time spent with someone doesn’t automatically correlate to how deep the relationship is or how well the people know each other. It’s not like either Pharma or Ratchet are shown to be good at expressing their personal feelings outside of extreme circumstances. 

Ratchet does bring up late-night conversations of the past:

But while this indicates there was something deeper between him and Pharma, because neither of them were ever shown to be super open with their true feelings, it’s unlikely the conversations were full of touchy-feely talk. In all likelihood, the conversations were mostly medicine and war-related, with the rare spark-to-spark talk sprinkled in. Also, considering everything up to this point, one has to wonder if those talks ever meant anything to Ratchet, or if he was just digging for something that might stall Pharma’s torture.

Maybe those late-night conversations did mean something to Ratchet, but whatever the case, Pharma didn’t take the bait. He knew Ratchet was trying to stall by making an emotional appeal, and perhaps he was convinced the conversations hadn’t meant that much to Ratchet.

Looking at all of this, it’s hard to believe Ratchet ever cared about Pharma as more than an interesting work friend. But even if he had cared more than he let on, it wasn’t enough to overcome the doubts he had about Pharma’s character.

As for whether Pharma truly cared about Ratchet, I’m convinced he did, but in a mostly unhealthy way, and with a strong undercurrent of one-sided rivalry. At some point, Ratchet had been an equal and a source of challenge, and he probably listened to Pharma pretty often. It’s reasonable to assume Ratchet was one of the only people—if not the only person—able to handle Pharma’s intense temperament and challenge him in a meaningful way, providing some semblance of friendship for Pharma.

However, one last thing that stands out is that, when telling Ratchet why he’s torturing him, Pharma didn’t say anything like, “Because you hurt me” or “Because you turned against me—your friend.” Instead, he said it was for “ruining things at Delphi” and because “you declared war on my body.”

Either Pharma wasn’t being entirely honest, or Ratchet’s friendship didn’t mean as much in the first place as he’d previously implied. It’s possible the ‘Because you hurt me’ was implied in “for ruining things back at Delphi,” but why not say it outright? Perhaps it was a fear of vulnerability and admitting there was ever a relational need at all.

At the end of the day, it’s difficult to say for certain how close Pharma and Ratchet were, but it’s clear they were never on the same page and there were always barriers between them.

Luna 1

Revisiting the matter of Pharma’s morality taking a backseat to other priorities, his time on Luna 1 further underscores this. Again, Pharma chooses his battles and is unwilling to put himself at great risk for the sake of others, but a closer look at the situation with Tyrest reveals there wasn’t really anything he could have done for the Cold Construct population even if he had wanted to. It would have been him against Tyrest, an army of Legislators, and a bunch of Decepticons. Pharma knew his limits, and seeing as his goal was self-preservation, it was perfectly rational for him to go along with Tyrest’s grand scheme.

Besides, it doesn’t look like he was given much of a choice:

Although, knowing Pharma, he still would have demanded to know beforehand what he would get in return for the pain, and evidently, Tyrest held up his end of the deal since Pharma had access to the Luna 1 tech collection.

As for Tyrest’s plan to wipe out the Cold Construct population, there’s nothing indicating Pharma’s decision to turn a blind eye to it was rooted in malevolence or bigotry—just rational apathy: ‘I can’t stop Tyrest, so why concern myself with the outcome?’

Again, you can’t save everyone; Pharma had all he could do to save himself.

But it wasn’t all horrible. I would even go so far as to say Pharma found some happiness on Luna 1. Tyrest didn’t care about him, but he didn’t need Tyrest to care. Everyone else there hated him, but he didn’t need to feel like he belonged or was admired. At this point, Pharma’s only interest was Tyrest’s Luna 1 tech collection, and that meant playing nice so he could keep his reward. Back at Delphi, he probably assumed he’d never again practice medicine the way he’d loved; being brought to Luna 1 was an unexpected, yet welcome, second chance.

Even so, Pharma had his moments of cruelty. Back at Delphi, he had easily-identifiable reasons to kill patients—both the ones whose T-cogs he harvested and the 20 more he tried to kill when he shot the life support machine. But on Luna 1, he had no reason to be cruel, yet he chose to be. By this point, he’d mastered the ability to almost completely ignore or subdue his conscience.

In the case of Ratchet’s torment, one could argue Pharma only drew it out for retaliation purposes; it was personal for him.

As for cutting Ambulon in half, it was obviously meant to be as gruesome as possible, yet also quick. But personally, I don’t think it was about Ambulon; it was more about hurting Ratchet. Due to the fact that Ratchet’s identity is wrapped up in his compassion and his ability to be helpful as a doctor, one of the most effective acts of revenge would be to do something that makes him feel utterly helpless.

Also I wonder if, subconsciously or consciously, Pharma was attempting to recreate the sense of helplessness he felt back at Delphi under Tarn’s watch: “Do you see, Ratchet? Do you now understand how it feels to have control ripped out of your hands? To be totally helpless?”

Next, for some reason, Pharma was invested in the promised execution of Getaway and Skids:

He had no personal connection to either of them that would give him a reason to be interested, so maybe Tyrest told him he could perform the execution and/or have the corpses for medical experimentation. Either way, Pharma would have had a chance to use some of the tech in Tyrest’s tech collection, possibly explaining his excitement.

Of course, any chance of an execution disappeared when the final showdown went wrong.

When Pharma tried to escape to Cyberutopia and discovered he couldn’t pass through the spacebridge forcefield, he gave up. He’d been caught; he would no longer have access to Tyrest’s tech collection; Ratchet and every other self-righteous Autobot would never forgive him; and the morality lock prevented him from escaping. By all appearances, he would never again be able to engage in that which gave him a sense of meaning. He had shrunken his world down to his obsessive interest in a specialized field and one significant, yet unrequited relationship. With both of these lost, his world collapsed. 

Yes, guilt played a part in Pharma’s despondency, but because he seems to have been in denial of said guilt, it’s more likely his despair was primarily due to the fact that he saw no future for himself. He had nothing left to live for.

In light of this, Pharma’s flippant comments to First Aid make sense. He wasn’t being insensitive as much as he was goading First Aid. Pharma’s not stupid. First Aid had a massive rotary cannon on him, and Pharma knew exactly which emotional buttons to push to get him to pull the trigger.

Pharma wanted to die.

Adaptus

First, let me emphasize that Adaptus did not take possession of Pharma’s body. Instead, Pharma was the unwelcome guest:

How Pharma ended up in Adaptus’ new body is a mystery, but whatever the case, Pharma didn’t pass on to the Allspark. Whether or not he had a choice can only be speculated.

First Aid had blasted Pharma’s head clean off, so whatever happened must have been related to the spark. Perhaps some residual spark energy was trapped in a body part that Adaptus repurposed, leaving Pharma tethered to the new body unwillingly.

Still, Pharma managed to assert his will and override Adaptus for a brief moment. Considering Adaptus was basically a god, this is impressive.

Based on Adaptus’ surprise at being interrupted, it seems he didn’t know Pharma was there. Why Pharma hadn’t tried to assert himself sooner is a mystery. Maybe Adaptus’ scheme was entertaining; maybe Pharma actually liked the company; or maybe he’d been waiting for an opportunity to get revenge on Tyrest for everything done to him back at Luna 1.

Sure enough, just like with Ratchet back on Luna 1, Pharma’s vengeful streak came out as soon as there was an opportunity.

Unfortunately for him, this left him vulnerable, and Tyrest took advantage of the confusion:

Conclusion

When someone reduces their world to narrow personal interests and one or a few very special people, their grip tightens around what little they have. They often become obsessive and possessive of the few things that make them feel alive, and their view of the world becomes increasingly more subjective and detached from the outside world. Pharma seems to have fallen into this trap.

Even so, in the context of the circumstances, several of the decisions he made were rational—even if coldly so. Oftentimes, “extreme” rationality and self-preservation are villainized in fiction, and characters like Pharma who don’t automatically put themselves at great risk for anyone and everyone are villainized, or at least looked down on. Their choices are often regarded as less human, but rationality and self-preservation are just as human as compassion and self-sacrifice.

Ultimately, Pharma was trapped and pushed over the edge into “insanity” by Tarn’s cruelty, but his own choices made from a place of pride determined how he fell, and how far he fell. It was a perfect storm of Tarn’s mind games and Pharma’s intellectual arrogance, excessive self-confidence, obsessive nature, and stubborn grip on the kind of future he wanted for himself.

Pharma is yet another Icarus who flew too close to the sun and paid dearly for it, and while JRO/the narrative could have given this Icarus better wings, that doesn’t change the fact that he chose to fly so high.

***

Many thanks to anyone who made it to the end of this monster of a post.

-tosses a Rodimus Star at you-

[kiapet2]

Alright, it’s less than a week since the Owl House finale aired and as expected I’ve already seen two direct comparisons to Steven Universe’s ending and several more vague-blogs, because one of this site’s hobbies is using other queer shows to put down Steven Universe. So let’s do this, then. Let’s compare the endings of Owl House and Steven Universe, and what each is ultimately trying to say.

Steven Universe and the Owl House are both shows that deal heavily with the clash of individualism and self-expression vs. socially-mandated conformity, and both shows’ final villains ultimately embody this conflict. One major difference, however, is that Owl House approaches this from the perspective of legal/societal structures, while Steven Universe approaches it from the perspective of family structures.

Steven Universe has always been about family--and particularly the ways traumas and biases are passed down through a family--and it has always heavily used the language of metaphor to discuss these topics. The Diamonds are the ultimate extension of this theme, something a lot of bad-faith (or just bad) takes on the ending miss; they interpret the diamonds in their literal capacity as dictators, rather than the way Steven Universe always portrays them, which is as matriarchs, i.e. the heads of a family who dictate and control all the family’s other members. This metaphor becomes more and more blatant until it outright becomes text, with the Diamonds turning out to be Steven’s literal family members, with whom his part of the family is estranged because of their previous controlling behavior.

In accordance with this theme, we ultimately find out that the Diamonds’ toxic ideology, with its rigid standards of perfection, are not only something they enforce on the gems below them, but also on themselves. They are suffering from the system in their own ways, unable to live up to the standards they themselves created. And who among us hasn’t known someone like that? A parent or grandparent who grew up under a cruel, oppressive worldview, and instead of rebelling against it internalized it--who turned around and said “I dealt with this, and so can you”? And so the ending of Steven Universe is the Diamonds realizing exactly how toxic the rigid ideology they’ve spent their lives perpetuating really is, and confronting the fact that their adherence to this ideology is what destroyed their relationship with Pink, and that the only way they’re going to have a relationship with Steven is if they’re willing to commit to changing both themselves, and the family structure they’ve enforced for so long.

Emperor Belos, in contrast, is not suffering from the structures he created, because his rules were never meant to apply to him. He sees the witches (and demons, and so-on) as lesser beings, evil beings, who exist to be controlled, and ultimately, exterminated. And every element of the society he built--the schools, the government, the police force, the religion--he intentionally constructed to keep these lesser beings under his control. The real-world allegory isn’t hard to see, here. And because what Belos represents in the story is, in fact, a fascist leader, the story shows that he can’t be reasoned with in any way that matters, and instead he is ultimately ground into paste beneath the boots of the people he sought to destroy. Different themes, different endings.

Now the usual argument that comes up here is as follows: but the Steven Universe ending isn’t as realistic! Not everyone is going to change, not everyone is going to be able to be reasoned with. Not every older, conservative family member is eventually going to accept you for who you are. And while that is true, ultimately SU isn’t meant to be realistic; it’s meant to be a power fantasy. Rebecca Sugar has come out and said before that they wrote a world in which there was good in everyone, because that’s the way she wishes the world could be. That’s the world they want to be able to believe in. And I am never going to begrudge a person, much less a queer person, for finding healing in writing that kind of world.

But you know what else is unrealistic? What else is ultimately just a fantasy? Grinding your government’s fascist leader into paste under your boot, then taking over and remaking society into something that accepts everyone. Sadly, Trump is not likely to get his ass beat any time soon. And more generally, punching fascists, while ideologically sound, is something most people are not going to get to do, due to real-world consequences such as “getting beat up by the fascist’s angry friends” and “being arrested for assault”. And even if you did depose one leader, our very society is set up in a way that perpetuates all manner of injustices, and systemic change is a complex and lengthy process that almost certainly won’t be completed in our lifetimes. But it’s fun to imagine we could, isn’t it?

Both endings are power fantasies. Both show the way they want the world to be, rather than the way it is. They are very different power fantasies, which fill very different--and at times conflicting--needs. And in situations like that, internet culture really likes to pick one to be the right fantasy, the right way to look at the world. 

But the truth is, both fantasies are needed! Some people need stories about your queerphobic relatives finally realizing the error of their ways and taking the necessary steps to accept and reconcile with you. And some people need stories where you get to grind fascist bastards beneath the heel of your boot. It’s okay if you prefer one type of fantasy over the other! But in the end, both are valuable, and both are important. 

And isn’t it wonderful, for us to have such a diversity of great queer stories? That we can explore both of these deep, conflicting needs? Let’s appreciate each of these fantastic works for what it was meant to be, rather than trying to pit them against each other or make them conform to a single, “best” way to tell a story.

[jjkamochoso]

Braids and Mochi Escapades

Fluff

Obanai x female reader

Mitsuri braids reader’s hair, Obanai can’t handle the cuteness!

Warnings: none

Being a hashira, your life involved seeing lots of blood, guts, and other horrible things. It didn’t consist of much light and happiness but that all changed one day when you seized the opportunity to work with another hashira and your whole perspective on life changed. You had never had so much fun than when you and Mitsuri slayed demons together. She was a formidable opponent and even taught you many skills you now utilized in your own missions. Not to mention, she was kind, funny, and naturally, very loving. These were traits you had embodied before your life darkened because of demons but Mitsuri showed you that you could still embrace and seek out good times even when all else seems hopeless. That’s how you found yourself having a sleepover with the Love Hashira after your semi annual hashira meeting was adjourned. The hashiras were all granted a few days’ rest before accepting any more missions so when Mitsuri invited you over for a girl’s night, you couldn’t say no (Shinobu did, though—she was always busy with some sort of research). You ordered as much sakura mochi the kitchen could begrudgingly make for you guys and made your way to Mitsuri’s room to hang out while the food was being prepared. You didn’t have the chance to announce yourself before her screen opened and the excitable girl wrapped you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking forward to this all day! Come in, come in!”

She dragged you inside and you let out a sigh of relief when her strong grip finally released you. Putting down your futon and extra blankets, you felt your stomach flutter with happiness. You hadn’t had a sleepover since you were very young and were relishing the fact you could have a normal few days without the stressors of being a hashira.

“I ordered us sakura mochi from the kitchens, I hope that’s alright,” you said, a bit shy. You knew it was her favorite but you didn’t want to come off as overbearing. Your worries were instantly quelled by the huge smile that graced her face as she pulled you in for another hug, thank you’s flowing out of her mouth nonstop. You giggled, already feeling content at how the night was going and you hadn’t been there for over a minute.

“So, is there anything in particular you want to do while we wait? I’m not well versed on sleepover activities yet, I apologize,” you said sheepishly.

Mitsuri just gave you a kind smile. “Don’t apologize! Tonight’s going to be so much fun! Ooh! I know! I can braid your hair!”

You instantly lit up. You were always envious of how pretty Mitsuri’s hair was and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t tried her signature hairstyle on yourself many times. However, you could never make it look as cute as she does so you were ecstatic that she would bestow her skills upon your head. She brought over a box of ribbons, all different colors of the rainbow, to tie at the ends of your hair as you released the pulled back style you had kept your strands in. When Mitsuri sat behind you and began to gently detangle your hair, you felt a wave of relaxation run through you. It felt nice to have someone so eager to take care of you for a change. You two basked in the comfortable silence until the talkative girl spoke up.

“So, y/n, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Your eyes that were previously closed opened up in a flash. Of course she would ask that, she’s the Love Hashira! But you were embarrassed that you had allowed yourself to succumb to such a weakness like love. Not even love, just unrequited affection toward a man that barely acknowledged you. It was humiliating to let her know of the truth of your heart but you couldn’t find it within yourself to lie to her.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever had the chance to lay eyes on but we’ve only spoken once out of all the years we’ve known each other. I watch him from afar but refuse to speak to him first out of fear. It’s shameful, I know.”

You were glad she couldn’t see your face as you spoke because you weren’t used to being this vulnerable. You were pleasantly surprised when she kept braiding, not skipping a beat.

“Oh, y/n, that’s so romantic! Pining and yearning are just two pillars of the many that make up love. It’s not shameful. Love is a complicated thing, especially for us, but if you face fear head on you’ll find that most things aren’t as scary as you think they might be. If you like him, he must have a good heart. Don’t be afraid to strike up conversation. He’ll come around eventually.”

You didn’t know how she did it but you instantly felt better. “You’re right, Mitsuri. Thank you.”

A few seconds passed.

“May I know who it is that’s captured your heart?”

You grimaced, knowing this would happen. “Um, I’m not sure I-”

“It’s probably Tengen, isn’t it? He’s so dreamy! If you’re into guys like that. Wait, you two have spoken many times so that doesn’t fit your description. Ugh, it isn’t Giyuu, is it?”

You tried your best not to laugh. Poor Giyuu, you didn’t know why no one liked him but even though you held a soft spot in your heart for him, it was the wrong man.

“No. Different raven haired man.”

She went quiet for a moment before gasping. “Obanai?”

You shook your head slightly in affirmation and she let out a high pitched squeal, inadvertently yanking on your finished braid in excitement. “Oh my gosh! You like Obanai? That’s so cute! You HAVE to talk to him, he’s such a sweetie!”

You grabbed onto your tender scalp in an attempt to soothe it after she almost ripped out all of your strands. “Now that the whole compound knows of my feelings,” you muttered, “I think my confidence to face him is completely shattered.”

Mitsuri gave you a pouty face. “No, don’t say that! You’re a beautiful girl and any man would be lucky to have you. He’s shy, you’re shy, it’s a tough combination but if you’ll allow me, I can tell him of your affections to see where it goes.”

“Oh, that’s alright, no need. If it’s meant to be, it will be. But thank you. And thank you for this gorgeous hair! Maybe this will give me the confidence boost I need to approach Obanai.” You gave the pink and green haired girl a hug and then inspected her work in a mirror. She had tied your (h/c) hair with ribbons, but they were mismatched colors. You were going to ask if she did that on accident before the realization of what the colors reminded you of set in. She had used one yellow ribbon and one turquoise ribbon, perfectly coordinating with Obanai’s eyes. Your mouth hung open in shock as Mitsuri giggled at your reaction.

“I hope you don’t mind! I was originally going to use just turquoise but when you mentioned your feelings for Obanai I thought this might be a way for you to feel closer to him. And it’s a great conversation starter.”

You gave her another huge hug, amazed at and grateful for her quick thinking. “Now that you’ve got me looking this good, we’re ready to get our food!”

Mitsuri clapped her hands in excitement and grabbed your arm as you two raced out the door of her room and into the warm summer night. The hot, sticky air permeated through your haori and left a slight sheen of sweat on your skin. You took a second to appreciate the quiet stillness of the compound, the smell of wisteria giving you comfort. You knew it was impossible for demons to be around, so why did it still feel like someone was watching you intently in secret? You shook it off, thinking you just weren't allowing yourself to let your guard down.

You laughed a little, turning to Mitsuri. "I'm not used to this relaxation time-"

She was gone. You would've been majorly freaked out if you hadn't spotted her entering a building beyond where you stood. Maybe her appetite turned ravenous and couldn't wait another second for food so she ran to the kitchen? You were confused and ready to catch up with her but your attention was turned to the rustling noise from above you. You stood under a wisteria tree and hanging over your braided head was a snake. Its white body slithered through the branches, staring at you and occasionally sticking its tongue out. You weren't familiar with snake behaviors but this one seemed friendly enough so you cautiously reached your hand toward it in an attempt to pet it. It didn't bite you when your fingers touched its smooth head so you took that as a good sign. You were extremely surprised, though, when it fell out of the branches, instead opting to rest on your shoulders. You tried to calm your breathing and before you could get too freaked out at your predicament, you almost facepalmed in realization that there was nothing to worry about. It was Kaburamaru, Obanai's snake friend, that had found his way to you. You were both looking at each other with curious eyes and you gave him a smile, trying to guess at what he was thinking.

"Mitsuri did my hair, Kaburamaru! That's why I look different. Though you probably recognized me by my scent from the other meetings you've attended, hmm?"

Being a snake, he obviously didn't answer you, but he did seem like he understood what you were saying, so you kept talking. "Are you hungry? We could try and find some frogs at the pond if you'd like."

He lifted his head and you could've sworn he shook it in disagreement.

"Alright then. Should we go find Obanai? It's a little late for you to be out here all by yourself."

"He's not by himself."

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Obanai's voice from above you. You looked up and saw the bandaged face of your crush peering at you from some higher up branches, nearly in the same position you had found Kaburamaru.

"O-Obanai! I apologize for not greeting you. I hadn't noticed your presence." You bowed and hoped he would forgive you. He climbed out of the tree and landed at your feet, black hair moving effortlessly around him. Your mouth went dry and any words that could've been said had died in your throat the moment your eyes met his. He was even more beautiful at ground level when you could observe him up close. His eyes glistened in the full moon's light that blessed the Master's compound. The man of short stature had such a strong, powerful aura about him that almost made you dizzy, yet was so intoxicating that it drew you in. Neither of you shared any words for the next minute or so, unsure of what to say.

"Your hair's... different," muttered Obanai, taking in your appearance and then suddenly looking away.

"Mitsuri did it for me! I was telling Kaburamaru all about it. He seemed to notice as well," you said, the warmth of embarrassment creeping on your face as you registered that what you said suggested that you were conversing with a snake. If Obanai didn't think you were a weirdo before, he definitely did now.

"He's very perceptible," Obanai agreed, making you feel at ease about your previous panic. You two found yourselves in another awkward silence and you prayed to any god that would listen that Mitsuri would come back with your food soon.

"So what brings you out here this time of night?" you asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you despised small talk."

Your eyes opened the tiniest bit wider. How had he known that? You barely interacted with him in all the years you had worked together yet he was aware of that little fact about you. Had he been noticing you all this time and you were too ignorant to see it?

"I do." You took in a breath. Time to be brave, y/n. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About anything. Get to know you better." Now it was your turn to look away as you cringed at how that sounded. You wished you had gone to Tengen for flirting lessons before ever coming in contact with Obanai.

"Why?"

Your head turned back to face him again as you answered with a shrug. "Because you're interesting." And because you're ridiculously handsome and I'm hopelessly in love with you!

His eyes narrowed. "Interesting enough to mock me with your hair bows?" He pointed accusingly to your hair, the ends of your mismatched ribbons adorning Kaburamaru as he continuously slid over your body.

"What? No, you have the wrong idea! I swear, I'm not mocking you, I-" You didn't know how to respond and your time was running out before Obanai hated your guts. You resigned to telling him the truth; you'd rather be hated for that than for something that was blatantly false. "I told Mitsuri I found you handsome but was too shy to speak to you so she thought matching the ribbons to your eyes would be a way for me to feel closer to you." He had an unreadable look on his face and you wished you could melt into a puddle on the ground and evaporate away from this conversation. You reached your hands to your hair and began to undo the ribbons. "It was a bad idea, I'm sorry for-"

"N-no! Don't!" Obanai's hands shot out so fast you never saw them coming. He grasped your fingers, stopping them from their job of removing the ribbon. When you felt his cool skin on yours, goosebumps made their way across your entire being. "They look pretty. Y-you look... pretty." Was it a trick of the light or was Obanai... blushing? You couldn't believe your ears. Did he just call you pretty? You thought your night was going to be amazing just being at a sleepover with your friend and now your crush was practically holding your hand and calling you pretty. Obanai was about to remove his hand from yours when Kaburamaru quickly wrapped himself around your conjoined appendages, not allowing either of you to let go. The Serpent Hashira was left in a state of blushing and stuttering apologies for his friend's indecencies and you were certain the snake was laughing at you both.

As if summoned by pounding heartbeats and gauche attempts at confessing feelings, Mitsuri finally appeared, copious amounts of sakura mochi toppling out of the bags she held.

"Oh my gosh, you two are SO cute together! Did y/n finally tell you that she likes you?" She asked Obanai, mochi flying out of her mouth as she took another bite. As he was always someone who had a snarky comeback or venomous reply, you had never seen him unable to produce words like at this moment when he was floundering for the right thing to say.

"I, well... she, umm... What's it to you anyway?" He finally spit out, but Mitsuri just laughed.

"I'm the LOVE Hashira, silly, I'm the expert at this stuff. Although, I must admit, Kaburamaru did most of my heavy lifting, didn't you?" She beamed at him as he finally released you and Obanai from each other to receive a big helping of raw meat from the pink and green haired girl. You stared at her incredulously.

"You're telling me that you worked together with a snake to set us up?"

"Kaburamaru found me earlier today and brought me to Shinazugawa who told me that he was tired of Obanai dancing around his feelings for you, y/n. He also mentioned that Obanai was probably talking about you nonstop to his closest friend, Kaburamaru, and that he was also done with the inaction. So, we devised a plan and now here we are. Isn't that adorable?"

"I told you he was perceptive," said Obanai, clearly embarrassed, but you found the whole thing to be strangely sweet. You decided it was time to get back to your sleepover where you and Mitsuri could fangirl over this moment for the rest of the night so you bid Obanai and his snake farewell. Before you could turn away to leave, Obanai got your attention one last time.

"I hope that one day I'll be strong and worthy enough to speak of my truest, deepest feelings for you myself, but until then," he reached up to pick a small bunch of wisteria off the tree and tucked it behind your ear, "please accept this gift and the meaning I've imposed on it."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you Obanai. I hope our paths continue to cross in the future." As you made your way back into Mitsuri's room, Obanai watched you until you closed the screen door behind you and for a little while after that. He couldn't promise to love you in a conventional way, but he swore from that day on, he would keep you as safe as possible in this unpredictable world you lived in.

BONUS:

On the day of the hashira's departure from the safety of Ubuyashiki's lands, you felt your heart sink at the remembrance of the danger you and Obanai had to go back out and face. However, your aching chest was abated by the raven haired man that entered your view, timidly thrusting a lump of something into your palms. You quickly unraveled the folded fabric and you were greeted with two knee high socks with the same black and white striped pattern as Obanai's haori.

"Obanai, that's so thoughtful of you! I'll treasure these forever."

"You don't need to treasure them, they're just socks," he grumbled, not meeting your eyes.

You giggled. "But they're from you. How could I not want to keep something so precious in good condition?"

"If they rip, I'll buy you more. So don't worry about it."

"Thank you so much for the kind gift." Your gaze softened at him as you frowned the tiniest bit. "I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, I feel bad."

"I don't need anything. Just..." He finally looked at you. Your hair ribbons mirrored his eyes once more (you swore to wear them like that until the day you died and then in every reincarnation you were born into) and he felt his heart beat against the walls of his chest. "Just don't die. That's all I ask of you. Let me be able to see you again."

Your own heart panged with the weight of his words. "I promise. I'll see you soon, Obanai Iguro."

[mavrintarou]

[3:19 PM] - Suna Rintarou

Gotta head out - be back later to edit... or not. Enjoy!

Warning: smut . Aside from volleyball, Rintarou was naturally gifted with the camera.

He had captured some of the most exquisite and breathtaking photographs of Y/n, making it look like they were professional shots.

He also possessed a collection of the most embarrassing shots, which he kept strictly to himself. There were also a few special ones that were meant for his eyes only, capturing intimate moments between them.

He was a very active Instagramer – posting quite frequently for his million followers, but he kept his relationship out of public eyes.

When Rintarou created a TikTok account, his followers grew by the day.

He would capture a wide range of videos, from documenting his volleyball training sessions and games to showcasing the delicious lunches Y/n packed for him. He even recorded moments of making his coffee, creating a collection of glimpses into his daily life.

Each time he makes a video, Y/n gets a notification, and she entertains herself with them.

“My baby made me some Korean food today,” he sniffs his bento, groaning. “I told her I’ve been craving some Korean food, and… she loves me so much.” He stuffs his mouth with a Kimbap. “You guys ask if she makes me lunch every day – yes. Does she not work or… is she a stay-at-home partner?” He shoves another Kimbap into his mouth. “She’s definitely an independent woman who earns her own money and won’t allow me to support her like the best boyfriend I am…” he narrows his eyes directly at the camera, “she always watches my videos, so – please tell her that it she needs to let me treat her like a queen.”

Y/n burst out laughing and clicked on the comments.

Suna’s girlfriend, please allow Rintarou to treat you like a queen!

Can we get a glimpse of her?

She is so lucky!

You’re so lucky; your food looks so good!

Y/n narrows her eyes at the first comment.

You’re so hot, Rin; please fuck me!

Y/n clicked on the person’s profile of a young woman.

Curiosity got Y/n going through Rin’s other videos to view the comments. She saw the same account commenting on every one of Rin’s videos, saying something inappropriate.

.

Rin checked his phone as he slipped his shirt on.

He was still waiting for a message from Y/n.

Though it wasn’t unusual, it felt odd that she didn’t text or react to his video.

She always commented or reacted to his video.

Did she not see it?

But it clearly said Read 2:35 PM underneath the message.

Without wasting another moment, he made his way toward their apartment, a sense of urgency guiding his steps. Sitting behind the wheel, waiting at a red light, he drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. The unsettling feeling gnawed at him, the sense that something was amiss between them weighing heavily on his mind.

While they didn’t frequently engage in conflicts, he made a conscious effort to minimize arguments, fully aware that disagreements are a natural part of any relationship. Over the course of their four-year journey together, they encountered only a few instances where tension escalated. However, despite needing some time to cool off, they always found a way to come together and discuss their concerns. They were committed to understanding each other’s perspective and exploring ways to grow and improve for the sake of their relationship.

And have hot makeup sex.

Rintarou jams the button to his floor in the elevator impatiently. Of all days, it seemed like the elevator door was being an asshole and taking its merry time to get him up to his floor.

“Y/n!” He shouts once he enters his apartment.

“Yes?” her sweet voice calls from the kitchen.

She doesn’t sound upset or mad, he thought. He quickly toes off his shoes and drops his gym bag in the living room to head to the kitchen. His heart relaxes a bit, finding her in the kitchen preparing dinner.

But he was still a little nervous and wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t upset.

He goes to wrap his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and resting his chin on her shoulder. “How was your day?”

“Good,” she answered, “you?”

“Tired,” he answered as usual, “but a little… nervous.”

She finished whatever she was doing before washing her hands, the both of them doing a funny dance towards the sink because once Rin clings on to Y/n, it is no use trying to get him off.

“Go wash your hands and sit down; let’s eat.” She hears his sigh before he lets her go, and she watches over her shoulder as he pouts towards the sink to wash his hands and takes a seat in his usual spot.

Y/n leans against the counter, watching him zone out sitting there. Rintarou may be hard to read on the court, but Y/n could read him anytime.

Something weighed heavily on him, and his emotions spilled out much like a toddler’s when they couldn’t express their feelings.

He doesn’t realize Y/n has yet to set the table, “why are you nervous?”

He gazed up at her with a lost expression, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t react to my video,” he murmured, seeking an answer with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Y/n arched an eyebrow at him, suppressing a chuckle. “What?”

“You didn’t react to my video today… did you not watch it?” he inquired with a  tinge of concern. “Did I say too much in the video about you?” The renowned and notorious Middle Blocker for EJP Raijin resembled an anxious child, desperately seeking reassurance if he had done the right thing.

Y/n furrowed her brows, a realization dawning upon her as she acknowledged her lack of response to his video. “Oh, Rin,” she chuckled softly, moving closer and straddling his lap. Tenderly cupping his face, she pressed her lips against his pout, kissing it away. “I did watch it, but I must have gotten carried away reading the comments,” she explained, her tone apologetic. Her eyes narrowed as she mentioned one particular fan. “There was this one fan who was quite vulgar towards you,” she continued, her voice hinting disapproval. “I didn’t like it one bit.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes, anticipating his reaction. “Are you… jealous?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

There it is.

“No, I’m not. I don’t need to be jealous when I already have you.”

Rin kisses her throat and nips the skin there. “You’re right; I’m yours, all yours, just as you’re mine, right?”

“Hmm,” Y/n runs her fingers through his hair before gripping a fist full and tilting his head back. “All mine.”

His eyes widen for a split second before they squeeze shut when Y/n trails her tongue along his jaw and down his neck. She was not one to mark him in prominent areas, but tonight, she showed no mercy to his neck.

“Y/n…” Rin groans ten minutes later. His hands grip her hips, desperately guiding her to rock herself over his lap. “’nough…”

She pulls back and admires her work; now she knows how Rin feels. She leans to peck his lips and lifts herself, “all right, let’s eat!”

“What!” His grip on her hips tightens, “no way, you can’t leave me like that.” He looks down at his crotch; the outlining of his thick cock is visible against his joggers.

“But… our food will get cold?”

Rintarou chuckles, “no way, baby, food can wait… not me.”

Y/n squeal when he pushes her onto the table, grabs the end of her yoga pants, and tugs them off in one go. He pulls her panties aside and pulls cock out enough to slowly thrust into her pussy.

“Ah… Rin,” she moans, gripping the edge of the table. “Fuck… yes…”

His thrusts are slow and deep. “You had me worrying for no reason…” he leans over and grips her jaw to kiss her deeply, “I’ll show them – “ he speeds up his thrusts, “I’ll show them I’m yours… only yours….”

All the rubbing and rocking over him stimulated her, and Y/n was close until Rin pulled out of her. “Rin?”

He maneuvers her onto her front side and smacks her ass before getting down on one knee. He pulls her panties off and smothers his face into her core, slurping, sucking, and biting.

“Rin!”

He squeezes her cheeks hard, taking a bite on each side before standing back up, “need to mark you as mine too…” he guides his cock back home and thrusts fast and hard.

Their kitchen echoes with skin slapping skin and the kitchen table squeaking.

“I’m so… I’m so close baby…” Rin groans, and seconds later, hips jerking and cock spasming as he cums inside.

Rin withdraws; his eyes are fixated and anticipating as his cum drips out.

A minute later, after catching each other’s breath, Rin whispered, “baby?”

Y/n turns to look over her shoulders, clearly in bliss. “Yes?”

“Bed?”

“Yes, please…”

.

“Today, my baby packed me my favorite… jelly fruit sticks!”

Y/n sipped her morning coffee and tapped the heart on the video before clicking on the comment button.

Those are my favorites too!

You’re like an excited schoolboy about their lunches!

Is no one going to talk about it?...

Suna-san… what are those marks on your neck?

Are those… hickies?

Those are definitely hickies… wow… his girlfriend is kinky…

. . .

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol