#it’s very early on so maybe there will be something done with this concept but I doubbbt it. I would be very pleasantly surprised

[astronomodome]

Feeling conflicted about the cyberpunk thingy impulse is going for because like yeah it’s a great theme and I like the aesthetics a lot but what I really like most about cyberpunk is the themes of corporate alienation and/or transhumanism etc etc which I know will not be addressed at all and in fact it’s kind of stupid of me to expect that at all from a minecraft series. Does anyone else get that or just me

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I was thinking the other night, that for some reason I could see Kingdom Hearts ending this way:

The entire story wrapped up (somehow) and everyone finally getting their happy ending. And we actually get to see Sora and the gang finally fully living out their lives and dying happily (think the beginning of Up). And that's the last thing we see before a black screen.

Nomura said once that he was trying to think of a way to end the series so no one could ever continue it, which I get. It's his baby that he's been working on for a large number of years now. I could understand why he wouldn't want someone coming in someday to continue it and potentially ruin it in his eyes.

But then we get some after credits scene where it becomes clear that Sora's been reincarnated into a new life, now that reincarnation is a thing in this series. (But, like, this wouldn't be a way to continue the story. Because things have so very much been wrapped up--like there are no Keyblades, Heartless, Nobodies, Unversed, Dream Eaters or what have you anymore; and this is a new Sora in a new life, and who knows how much like old!Sora he is. He's exactly like old!Sora, but shh. If you were to continue the story--and really, you shouldn't--you'd have to come up with a completely new premise, pretty much.) And you just know that he's going to find his friends, who have been reincarnated into new lives, too.

That way the series ends with a sense of hope and a new beginning, almost.

Not that the ending itself wouldn't have had that sense of hope, in a sense. It would have been a happy ending, at least (however, I can see people being sad that we see the crew die, even though we got to see them living the happy, full lives they'd more than earned).

But Sakaguchi when he created Final Fantasy said that one of the most important things to him with the series, was that whatever happened in the hours before, he always wanted Final Fantasy games to end with a sense of hope for the future: where it seemed like things could always get better. And that's something that Nomura carried over to the Kingdom Hearts series when he created it.

And I feel like such an ending might have that kind of feeling, and might be something he would do. And this does seem to tick off all his boxes of what he's going for with the ending (that we know so far) to me. -shrugs-

[reiderwriter]

Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out. 

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names. 

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect. 

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well. 

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room. 

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room. 

“I… read, I guess?” 

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?” 

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you. 

Because he definitely was. 

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray. 

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU. 

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier. 

“Hey  I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word. 

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching. 

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended. 

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.” 

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice. 

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all. 

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock. 

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?” 

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion. 

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was. 

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?” 

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”  

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand. 

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.” 

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock. 

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention. 

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial. 

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release. 

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him. 

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart. 

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes. 

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?” 

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody. 

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment. 

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes. 

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum. 

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy. 

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing. 

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still. 

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough,  you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker. 

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed. 

Until he went to prison. 

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking. 

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all. 

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before. 

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was. 

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together. 

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours. 

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore. 

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away. 

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure. 

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack. 

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to. 

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation. 

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there  on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger. 

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?” 

“I…I want you to touch me again.” 

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips. 

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders. 

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette. 

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.” 

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you. 

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.” 

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features. 

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on. 

“Spencer? Look at me, please.” 

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him. 

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.” 

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace. 

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on. 

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again. 

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss. 

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again. 

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.” 

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.” 

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.” 

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands. 

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him. 

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back. 

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.” 

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously. 

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!” 

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock. 

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?” 

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!” 

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him. 

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me,  missed this.” 

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions. 

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.” 

“I'm not leaving.” 

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss. 

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom. 

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt. 

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question. 

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’ 

[fatuismooches]

OH NY GOD THE CHILDHOOD CRUSH CONCEPT BUT WITH DOTTORE 😭😭IF THAT'S OKAY?? reader is the only one who was interested in his endeavors and helped, so probably they're just as bad as him so they're partners in crime 👉👈 he's gotta have done experiments on then but they were never painful, only for them fr

♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 ♡

synopsis: When you were a child, there was a peculiar boy who seemed to never have any friends, alienated away from the others. Perhaps you could be his first one.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: Yes yes yes, I love this! This is so very cute, thank you and I hope you enjoy this! The use of Dottore's real name, Zandik, is used mostly in this because, well... that's what he was called as a child. (And to be honest, if you're dating any of the Harbingers you have to be somewhat... you know. And I think pre-Fatui Dottore would be different when it comes to affection and such... so yea. Subby Dottore I guess?)

Childhood was something you cherished growing up in Sumeru. The pursuit of knowledge, the Akademiya, being a scholar, was something that was drilled into the heads of the young ones even from an early age. But when you were a child, you had the freedom to actually live, the ability to dream, to have fun, to run around and play freely without having to worry about all that boring stuff. So needless to say, you made sure to spend every second of your childhood the way you wanted as much as you could. You were going to have as much fun as possible! Perhaps that was why the rumors about the teal-haired boy did not make you waver in your pursuit to befriend him too much.

Despite the child being your neighbor, you didn’t really know much about Zandik, but what you did know was that Zandik’s mother was a kind woman. She always waved hi to you when you saw her and made small talk with you. Besides that, you never really thought about it further until your friends brought it up one day.

“That lady really seems to really like you, [Name].”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, she’s always nice to me. She even makes me Pita Pockets sometimes!”

“Her child is too creepy though,” your friend complained. You were taken aback by their statement.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“Zandik’s always just been weird. That’s why no one ever plays with him. I heard that he always wants to do these weird… um, experiments I think. There are other rumors too, but I just know the way he acts is just bizarre.”

“I feel bad for her,” another one of your friends chipped in. “It must be hard to deal with such a freak. Aren’t you his neighbor, anyway? Don’t you know this?”

You just frowned and shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t really like the way they spoke about Zandik. Surely he couldn’t be as bad as they made him out to be. Maybe he was just an introvert?

Then again, you barely ever saw Zandik before. He never played with anyone, never spoke to anyone, hell, you didn’t even know if he left his house. The most often you saw him was when you happened to be walking by and caught a glimpse of him through the windows. He always quickly moved away when he was spotted though.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Just try to stay away from him, [Name].” You nodded your head, but your mind was already made up. You were determined to find out how bad Zandik actually was.

—

You did say you were going to befriend him, but you soon realized you were not sure how to go about it. You had never met someone like him before, so your choices were limited. The easiest thing you could think of was waiting near his room’s window. It was a bit embarrassing hiding behind a tree, seemingly waiting for nothing, but soon enough you saw him take a seat near the glass. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but he looked very focused on it, and you were a bit mesmerized for a second, as this was your first real look at him. But you soon snapped out of your daze and came out from behind the tree.

“Heyyyy!” You yelled, jumping up and down, attracting his attention. Zandik’s shoulders jumped for a second at the noise, and when he looked up, he was greeted by your figure on the ground. Your expression brightened when you noticed he saw you and began to wave your hands, mouthing something he couldn’t hear clearly.

Zandik was stunned. If he recalled correctly, you were the person who lived next door. He saw you occasionally but of course, did not care much about you. So why were you here? Were you standing there the whole time? What did you want? His active mind produced many questions, but in the end, he knew what you were. Your intentions could not be different from the other children.

The boy looked at you incredulously for a moment before getting up. Your smile grew wider, oh, was he going to open the window and say something? But then he pulled his curtains shut on you, blocking your sight into his room completely. Damn it. 

Well, that failed terrifically, but it was a bit stupid now that you thought of it. You sat down against a tree and tried to think of your next plan, unaware of the now slightly drawn curtain and curious red eyes peeking out of it.

—

Any other ideas you tried had failed, and you were not sure what to do. You had become aware that he was closed off, unwilling to interact with you or any others. But this had only made you far more interested in him. So, you had only one plan left - to go directly to the person who could tell you all. And so you knocked on the front door of his house, revealing a familiar face.

“Oh? Hello, my dear! What a pleasant surprise to see you, [Name]. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hi, ma’am. You see, I, um, have a request. I need help with something.”

“Well, I’ll certainly do my best to help you then,” Zandik’s mom affirmed.

“I want to see Zandik,” you said bluntly, shocking the woman for a second. “I want to befriend him and talk to him.”

“I-I see. It’s not every day another child comes and asks for my son. He is a… peculiar case, after all, and he doesn’t like speaking to other people. Are you sure about this?”

“Please, I really do want to be his friend,” you said resolutely. Her face softened and she relented.

“Alright, my dear. I know he usually frequents this spot…” the woman gave in and gave you directions to where Zandik apparently spent much of his time. 

As you made your way there, you were a bit in awe of how he managed to find such a place. You never knew this route existed until now. Soon, after a bit of trekking, you found an opening that boasted lush grass and smooth stones, with trees surrounding it in a circle. It was quite pretty. And then that was when you saw Zandik in the middle, his teal hair matching the greenery. For a moment, you pondered over how to approach him, but you did not need to think long since he spoke first.

“How did you manage to find this place?” His voice echoed throughout the clearing, letting you know that you were spotted. You tentatively took a few more steps closer, his small body getting bigger.

“I asked your mom,” you began, “and she told me I could find you over here.” He let out a sigh.

“Admittedly, I did not expect you to go to such drastic lengths. You are more persistent than the lot of them,” Zandik acknowledged, though still not looking up from the rather complicated and thick book he was reading. Then, he snapped it shut and stood up. 

“So, what is the reason for your tireless pursuit? Perhaps you’ve come to ridicule me? Or are you here to see whether the rumors are genuine? Do tell, I am truly curious as to what would warrant such an extended hunt.”

You were a bit stunned at that whole statement, but you only had one thing to reply with. “I mean… it’s none of those. I just want to become your friend.”

A moment of silence passed before a chuckle broke it. Then, full-out laughter rang out, echoing throughout the forest. It was almost maniacal, and you couldn’t lie that it kind of scared you a bit, but you bit your lip and remained calm.

“Aha, hehe, why, I have not heard that one yet. How creative. I must say, they are getting better at these.” After that little outburst, Zandik returned to his previous sitting position and became absorbed in his book again. You were honestly unsure of how to react to that. Did the other kids truly pick on him that much, for him to think another wanting to become his friend was a lie? You stood there unmoving until Zandik spoke again in a dismissive tone.

“You can go now. It was amusing while it lasted,” he said disinterestedly, waving his hand. You were dumbfounded but determined, so you answered back very simply.

“No. No, I won’t leave,” you declared so firmly that the boy stiffened.

“No?”

“Yes, in fact, I’m going to come over there right now. You know I wasn’t joking in the first place?” you said rather calmly, trying to seem as serious about this as possible, taking steps toward him. 

He scowled, his attention drawn from his book once again. “No, you won’t. You won’t dare to come near me,” he stated just as firmly, having recalled how the other children wouldn’t even look at him. You grinned and picked up your pace until you were only a couple of footsteps away from him, and that was when he truly realized you were not joking. Zandik hastily tried to get up to avoid you but you dashed towards him, nearly tripping as you lowered yourself to a squatting position, becoming face to face with him.

You leaned in close to Zandik’s face, your nose almost touching his. His unique, red eyes held annoyance and a variety of other negative emotions, but there was something foreign in there too, which was the reason he didn’t pull away - confusion and curiosity. You smiled.

“Well now, hopefully you finally get it into that head of yours that you are now my friend. So, why don’t you tell me about what you’re reading?”

At first, he vehemently denied your friendly advances. He’d mock you, roll his eyes at you and such, or flat-out ignore you which was what he usually did. Zandik was honestly not very welcoming, which you began to expect at a certain point. But you persisted nonetheless. You followed him around no matter where he tried to go. You’d sit close to him but not too close. You’d speak sometimes and would either be met with silence or a sarcastic remark but you began to somewhat enjoy it. You’d stretch your neck to try and read the books he always brought with him in an attempt to better understand him. Though, the day he put the book on the ground so it could be read by both of you was the day you knew you won.

Zandik would always tell you not to come back, but you always came back of course. He’d roll his eyes and scoff at your tenacity, but you came to realize that he liked it. After all, he could very well just go to another hiding place, or arrive at a completely different time if he truly didn’t want to see you. He’d never admit it, but he warmed up to you. You also learned that Zandik really liked to talk. At first, when you would ask him questions about science, he wouldn’t respond but you could see him biting the inside of his lip, restraining himself from going on a tangent. It was the first time anyone had shown any real interest in him. Zandik would ramble on about many, many things, often transferring to a new topic in the blink of an eye. Even when he spoke about less-than-pleasant things, he looked to you all excitedly to hear your thoughts. When it came to those kinds of topics you satiated him with a smile, but you always voiced your thoughts as much as possible which pleased him greatly.

Eventually, you started to invite Zandik over to your house. His mom was positively ecstatic and encouraged this behavior. And yet you didn’t do what typical children did. He wanted to do experiments. Which did not really surprise you after everything was done and said. Despite being your age, he always spoke in such an… advanced way. It was hard to describe, but he always employed these big terms and used such proper grammar and language, something that was very uncharacteristic for a child. And experimented he did. Zandik’s experiments were not limited to mixing and combining different elements but also extended to you, somehow. He wanted a strand of your hair, your eyelash, a paper with your fingerprints all over it. What he used these for, you didn’t know.

Your own parents were scholars, so even though you didn’t see them very much, they left a multitude of advanced books and texts in the house. While you had never cared for them much, Zandik devoured them with ease. Even though you invited him to your house to talk and play together, there were times he’d just take one of the books and read for the whole time, shushing you whenever you tried to speak. You had to settle for simply sitting next to him and trying to follow along, which he… surprisingly did not mind. Under his breath, he’d mutter phrases like “Khaenri’ah” and “Visions” and “ruin machines” which frankly did not make much sense to you, but you always happily entertained him.

One day, Zandik wanted to go somewhere deep in the forest. You had played around there a couple of times, but you had never entered into the depths of it, heeding the warnings of danger from the adults. Naturally, you were a bit worried and scared, but you knew that Zandik would enter with or without you, for there was no length he wasn’t willing to go to cure his curiosity. Though he would not tell you why you were making this journey, you followed him nonetheless, until you reached an area with many damaged stones and pillars. As to how he found this location, you didn’t question it.

“There it is,” Zandik said almost breathlessly. You were confused at first but then you followed his line of sight, and then you saw it. A Ruin Guard sat on the ground, unmoving. Your jaw dropped as you had never seen one of them before, only hearing about their destructiveness from others and in books.

“So you came here to look at that?”

“Indeed. But we are not merely going to look. I’m going to investigate it.”

“Huh?! But what if it awakens and attacks us?” Even though the two of you were a good distance away, you could easily tell the Ruin Guard dwarfed your tiny bodies by a great amount.

“From what I’ve read and heard, it should be deactivated. There is no need to worry,” Zandik affirmed. 

“What do you mean by ‘should be’- hey, wait up!” Before you could finish your sentence, your friend had already made his way toward the Ruin Guard. You scrambled to catch up with him and soon enough you two were close to the robot. Both of you stood there for a bit, just taking in the sight until Zandik couldn’t hold back and approached the Automaton, circling around it, clearly fascinated.

Clink.

The two of you stiffened at the sound.

“Zandik… did you hear that?” He did not respond, but soon enough your question was answered as the eye of the Ruin Guard beamed awake.

Zandik could only stare in amazement as the complex machine glowed and lit up back to life. You were momentarily shocked but you quickly regained your senses and grabbed his hand to get away from there, because you two would be dead in a couple of seconds if you didn’t move. You had to literally drag him because the machine had him in an astonished stupor.

“I thought you said it was DEAD?!?!” you practically screamed at him as the Ruin Guard lowered itself to shoot missiles at you both. You managed to hide the two of you behind a small stone wall as the projectiles hit that instead. “And snap out of it!!”

“I suppose I have miscalculated.”

“You suppose?” Your voice had quieted down so as to not bring back the attention of the robot, which was now walking around the area since it had lost sight of you. “We need to leave before it spots us again.”

“No,” he disagreed. “We’ll incapacitate it ourselves.” It took you a few seconds to process what Zandik said to you.

“Are you crazy? Ah, never mind that. I already knew you were from a long time ago. But this is something far from our level!”

“I believe that we would be able to disable it.”

“Trained adventurers have died from that thing,” you insisted.

“We aren’t adventurers. We are better than them.”

“We’re children,” you deadpanned.

“Two intelligent children,” Zandik corrected you. For a second you were shocked that he called you smart, as you did not expect that sudden compliment. You always considered him the brains and you were… the supporter from the sidelines. “Furthermore, I have a plan.”

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Fine… what is it?”

“It is quite simple. First, you will hit the eye of the Ruin Guard twice to stun it, and while it’s knocked out, I will remove the core to deactivate it.”

“...Yeah. So simple, Zandik,” you said sarcastically. “And how do you suppose I manage to hit its eye? It’s extremely tall and my aim is nowhere that good.”

“I would not have brought up this idea if I did not think you were that incapable. You are quite useful to me,” he said straightforwardly. Boy, did Zandik have a very odd way of cheering you up.

“I… well, okay then. And you know how to get the core out of it?”

“I’ve read multiple passages of these machines in textbooks. I assume I have enough knowledge to do so.”

“I’m not going to even say anything. You owe me a play date after all of this,” you pouted. Zandik rolled his eyes begrudgingly.

“I suppose I can engage in your nonsensical childish activities when all of this is over. But just for an hour,” he proclaimed. You gleefully smiled, pleased to have won him over.

You didn’t care much for the Archons or Gods but you suppose they must have been watching over you because you eventually managed to stun it. Keyword: eventually - after whole minutes of running around dodging missiles and picking up random stones along the way, while Zandik sat there waiting for the right moment. You swear he was laughing at you. And true to his word, the young boy dismantled the machine’s core, rendering it unable to operate.

“Wow… I can’t believe we actually did that,” you mentioned, still in awe of it all.

“Of course we did. I would expect or accept nothing less. Now, come here. We have work to do.”

Somehow he had brought along small tools to try and dissemble the Ruin Guard. The red-eyed boy’s intelligence had always amazed you. Although it may seem boring to others, watching him fiddle was quite interesting for you. Zandik had also apparently appointed you as his assistant without informing you until now, so you always sat next to him. You made sure to keep an eye on what he did, for sometimes he would put his hand out and expect you to pass him a tool or screw without saying anything. At the end of the day, at least you could say the two of you had feats that no other child could claim to have accomplished.

It had gotten to the point where Zandik constantly wanted your presence around him, claiming that it would do you well to join him since you had nothing better to do. (He just didn’t want to admit he craved your attention and company.) You had accepted this with no complaints, having enjoyed spending time with him far more than your other friends. But you couldn’t deny that your friends were somewhat right about their thoughts towards Zandik - he cared little for others’ lives or feelings, was interested in things others would find disturbing, and even as a child you could tell he was not too right in the head. And yet his morals being concerningly low despite still being a kid, you could not bring yourself to care much. Heh, perhaps he was starting to influence you too.

Many years had passed since the two of you were little kids. Zandik had grown into a handsome, young, man. His mother was no longer in the picture, but the two of you were still together despite it all. And as much as you wanted to end your story off with a cliche everything was well, nothing could be farther from the truth. The atmosphere of your hometown had begun to grow tense. Why, you ask? Because of Zandik. The villagers had always not been the kindest to him, never fond of his rather strange ideas, though Zandik usually brushed it off with disinterest. But as he grew older, it seemed that the town’s dislike for him grew as well. And while you were a bit worried for him, you weren’t too concerned. You were sure the two of you would leave the place one day anyway. No way in your wildest dreams did you think you’d look outside your window and see people waving around pitchforks and clubs. And if that wasn’t bewildering enough, they were pointed toward Zandik.

You never scrambled to your feet and out the door so fast in your life, rushing to your dear friend’s side. His expression was unreadable when he saw you.

“Hey. Hey! What is this all about, huh?” you demanded to the crowd.

“He has to go. He is no longer a child, and so we no longer have any reason to have to harbor him here. He is a threat to this town,” someone spat.

“He’s never even hurt you,” you argued. “He never laid a hand on any of you. It was rather you who did that!” You think you heard Zandik whisper your name quietly.

“He’s a heretic,” another voice hissed. “He and his ideas do not belong here.” The clattering of pitchforks pitched in to agree. Zandik remained silent.

You gritted your teeth. You could see there was no point in arguing anymore. “Fine. Fine then. We didn’t even like it here anyway,” you fumed. In your spur of anger, you clasped your friend’s hand and practically dragged him in the opposite direction, blocking out the boos and mockery from the rest of the town.

Surprisingly, Zandik did not say a word throughout your little journey to who knew where, until you had to take a break from the sheer exhaustion. Embarrassingly, you had to release his hand that you had kept hostage the whole time, but Zandik seemed far less perturbed than you. Perhaps he saw it coming, with how assured his next statement was. 

“We shall attend the Akademiya.” Out of all the possible things he could have said, you did not expect that one for some reason.

“The A-Akademiya?”

“Yes,” Zandik said quite simply.

 “I mean, it’s not a bad idea but… the people there might be…” You did not finish your sentence, but you were referring to how the place could have a good amount of judgmental “scholars.”

He laughed bitterly. “After this morning, I highly doubt anything they do shall ever bother me.” You did not know what words would console him, so the only thing you offered was an agreeing nod and your silent presence.

“They did not exile you, [Name],” he said all of a sudden.

“It doesn’t matter. Getting rid of you would be the same thing as getting rid of me. I wouldn’t stay in a place where you aren’t,” you shrugged simply, placing your pinky over his own.

Zandik did not respond, but he didn’t move away.

—

The Akademiya was… an experience, for sure. It was many things all at once, the different Darshans and the beautiful architecture, the great looming trees. And the dorms were far nicer than you expected. At least they were spending their funds decently enough. So, the two of you settled into the scholarly life relatively easily. Zandik easily climbed to the top of his classes in no time, quickly garnering the attention of others and then losing it equally as fast when they encountered his prickly personality. There were always gossip and rumors floating about, many of which proclaimed Zandik to be a madman and a monster. And while he rarely ever showed any expression to these words, besides perhaps a roll of the eyes and chuckle or a scoff, you wondered if it really did bother him. As such, everyday life for you was being known as the normal person who hung out with the weirdo.

But, the years spent in the institution were ones you cherished deeply. You were close with your friend for many years, but perhaps staying together in such close quarters deepened the relationship. The two of you would sneak out after hours to do whatever Zandik demanded to be done. You were a bit iffier about breaking rules, but Zandik was firm on not letting anyone hold him back in his pursuit, so you began to think less of it. Many nights would pass by with the two of you staying up until unreasonable hours, whether it was studying together (or more like Zandik helping you study), or listening to him ramble on about his latest ideas and inventions. The strangest times were when he made you stay up despite not speaking at all. You would blink through bleary eyes as he remained silent, the only noise the clinking of bolts and nuts. In your heart, you liked to think he just liked your presence.

But the day you found out Zandik was to be expelled from the Akademiya was one you’d never forget. You knew he had a tendency to act without permission, to turn off others with his radical ideas, so perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. You also had some knowledge of what happened in his expeditions with the team - almost everyone did, considering what happened with that girl - and you knew deep down what her true cause of death was. And Zandik knew that you knew too; you could feel it unspoken in his eyes when the subject matter was brought up briefly. You knew you were too far gone when you accepted it. But still, him being expelled was still a shocker. Yet the only thing he bemoaned was losing his space to work.

“It is quite literally your last night in this dorm and you’re sad about losing your progress on your experiments?” Actually, now that you thought about it, it was quite a Zandik thing to think.

“It was the only good thing about this place,” he shrugged. “It is too bad. I shall have to find somewhere else now.”

“They’re going to exile you to the desert, aren’t they?” you frowned. “That’s what they do with the expelled and mad scholars, no?” He nodded in agreement.

“You can’t go. You won’t be able to continue your kind of research there,” you argued.

“And what do you propose? That we fight them?”

“Yes! I’ll fight them! I’d ambush them or something!” you knew you sounded crazy by now but you couldn’t help it. The idea of no longer being with your childhood friend was tearing you in half. “You know, the matra stationed there keeps an eye on all of the scholars who were exiled there, in order to keep them in check. Even if you managed to escape, it won’t be easy to survive in such conditions and they could find you,” you insisted.

“Good thing you’re so eager to fight,” he chuckled. You knew what he was thinking when he laughed like that. “I have a plan.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Did you really think I’d go in there without preparation?” he scoffed. “In due time, I shall find a way to contact you.”

You sighed. “Alright, just… let me know who I have to fight later,” you responded. “And…” you trailed off, not knowing if you should verbalize your true worried feelings. He seemed to notice, and he contemplated, trying to figure out what to say.

“You need not worry about me, [Name]. We both shall be fine.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, as they were things he would never say. But he did anyway.

And that was the last you saw of Zandik. But unbeknownst to either of you, he would be visited by a special man - the first Harbinger. 

—

You stood outside on the small balcony, gazing down at Sumeru’s city. You had managed to nab one of the dorms with the platform, much to the dismay of the other scholars. The two of you always loved seeing them fume, as they had to take their star gazing elsewhere. Neither you nor Zandik had cared much for the stars, but admittedly it was just… nice to feel the wind blow. 

Sleep had escaped you ever since Zandik left. Not hearing the usual metal clink and unscrewing noises, soft grunts, and occasional chair shifting from Dottore had left you unsettled and bothered. You had begun to think about whether you should continue to stay in the Akademiya. Zandik was no longer here, and the place crawled with rumors and gossip regarding him. You weren’t so popular anymore either, as the whispers even extended to you, his roommate who people began to question if you were truly innocent.

You had been feeling a bit lost in general since Zandik had been expelled. You were fully aware of the heinous things he had committed. You had come to terms that he was a criminal, and you were accomplice of sorts as well. Actually, the moment you decided to associate yourself with him was the moment you became not so good of a person. But that wasn’t what bothered you. What bothered you was Zandik’s absence.

Any normal person would have called you absolutely crazy for desiring such a madman’s presence. And you couldn’t blame them. They were right. Yet your heart could not let go of the man who you stuck with since childhood. You could not let go of the boy who scowled and doubted your intentions at first, the boy who eventually warmed up to you, the boy who demanded you be his test subject and assistant at the same time, the man who tutored you in science and maths and everything else, the man who stayed up to ungodly hours to tinker.

The man who you fell in love with.

The revelation was enough to make your knees weak, and suddenly the cold air was too much for your warming body. Quickly, you locked the doors to the balcony and stumbled onto your bed, rubbing your temples at this acknowledgment. Archons, how stupid were you? You were in love with someone whose character was… words you could not describe. Though you knew it all along. You just were scared to admit it. You internally cursed Zandik for doing this to you, as you knew you were too late to say anything. Not that you’d have a chance though, considering his whole outlook. He’d think that love was for fools only, a waste of time when he could pursue more fruitful endeavors. So all of this only caused you to miss him so terribly much more.

You missed his eyes - such a unique red that could only be compared to the one that flowed through living beings. You missed his hair - the softness that you only felt once, when you gently caressed the locks when you thought he was sleeping, but he grabbed your wrist so quickly it nearly scared the living daylights out of you. You missed his sharp and smart tongue that could put someone into their place in a matter of seconds. You missed everything about him.

But you shouldn’t sulk. No - you would not brood. If he was here, he’d probably be reprimanding you for being distracted when there was so much left to do. Sooner or later, you knew in your heart you would see him again and-

Knock-knock.

You bolted up at the series of knocks. Were you hearing things? Surely no one would be at your door this hour of the night. Did Zandik make you delusional now?

Knock-knock-knock.

Nope, you still had some of your sanity left. You swung your feet off the bed, about to head towards the door when a rather strange shadow blurred across the floor. It looked oddly like… a figure… at your balcony… Your heart pounded as you convinced your head to look up.

Zandik was on your balcony. How he managed to get up so many stories of the building, you had no clue. No longer did he don the Akademiya’s uniform, but clothes that were rather nice and expensive looking. It seemed your stupor lasted longer than his liking as he tapped impatiently on the glass door and pointed towards the lock.

Well, it seemed your reunion with him was happening sooner rather than later, that’s for sure. Quickly you scrambled to open the door and pull your beloved inside.

“Z-Zandik,” you sputtered, not believing your eyes. “I- what- how are you here? Did anyone see you? You have to leave, they’re going to catch you!” You fumbled over your words, fighting with the happiness of seeing your friend again but also concerned about him being caught. “What happened with the plan? What happened in the desert? What are you wearing? How did you-?”

Zandik quickly shut you up by tapping his newly gloved finger on your lips. “You must not speak so loudly. But you are correct, we do not have much time.”

“You’re r-right,” you agreed, lowering your tone. “But I just need at least some kind of explanation. Why and how did you come back…?”

“The Fatui has recruited me.”

“The Fatui?” you echoed softly, trying to remember what that was. A few seconds of thinking and remembering the daunting masked men and women who carried around weapons caused you to snap back to life. “The Fatui?!” you whisper-yelled. “Those scary people who always eyed us up when went into the forest and stuff?! I- ah, I won’t even question it anymore. Just… go on.” Zandik smirked at your halting.

“They have provided me with sufficient equipment and a space to work. We no longer have any reason to stay at this ignorant institution,” he declared. “And, from now on, I am to be called Dottore, a new Harbinger.”

“Dottore?” you repeated. “How clever,” you snorted at the irony of the name. “And… what do you mean by ‘we’?” your voice got quieter towards the end.

“I mean what I said. You shan’t stay here any longer.”

You already knew you were following him, but your chest twinged due to your recently newfound feelings. What if you somehow turned out to be a nuisance for him? Eternally distracted by this foolish love? 

“Oh really? And what makes you think I’d follow you so easily?” You don’t think he was expecting you to say that. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve already made it clear to the Jester I shall not work without a competent assistant. There is only one person who has proven themselves to be capable. I will not settle for anyone else,” Zandik stated resolutely. “And,” he paused, uncharacteristically unsure of how to voice what he wanted to say next. He had always been a man who would proclaim the most damning ideas with no remorse. Yet he had trouble formulating his thoughts because of you.

“You are… infuriating,” he began, making you raise your eyebrow. How charming of him. “Since that day in the forest, I knew you were going to be vexing. You would not bend to anything I said, would not leave me alone no matter the methods I used. Infuriating,” he repeated.

“But,” he very cautiously raised his hand to hover near your cheek, just barely making contact, “I never thought I’d become so… accustomed to you. I remember your habits and likes just as much as I remember those formulas you hated so. It’s laughable to think that almost all of my memories have you there somehow.”

“You are irking, but without your presence, I am strangely irritated myself, which is far more of a hindrance than I would have ever anticipated. Without you, I find my mind wandering - it is like nothing I have experienced before,” he finally cupped your cheek with hesitance, as if he himself was in disbelief at his own actions.

“I have known you almost all my life, yet I seem to still need more time to truly figure you out. I am not merely speaking as a scholar, but as… me,” he finished. Now, that was the last thing you expected from a man such as him. But he quickly regained his composure as he asked you the final question.

“Now,” he concluded. “What say you?” For all his talk of bravado and confidence, his hesitant show of affection revealed all the vulnerability that you desired to see and gave you the answer you needed. You placed your own hand over his one on your cheek, maintaining eye contact with him as he stiffened at the feeling of your skin against his, even if it was clothed. You moved closer to Zandik, until your chests were nearly touching. 

Zandik knew what you were going to do. Although the thought of such affection usually made him… ill and annoyed, he could not help but think that the feeling would be different if you were the one initiating. How would his body react? Would he enjoy it? Would he want to do it again?

You moved closer to his face, and without hesitation, you kissed him. Zandik was rigid, the foreign sensation of another’s lips against him was completely unfamiliar to him. But it seemed that the answer to his questions was a resounding ‘yes.’ You pulled away from him, trying to gauge his expression. You did not know too much about kissing, but you knew your newly found lover understood even less, which spurred you to continue. 

Running your hands down his firm arms, you leaned in again to nip and suck at his neck, drawing out a shudder from Zandik. He felt intoxicated by you all at once. He would be sure to write some notes on this later… they would be needed for further… research and experimental trials. He nuzzled his face into your soft locks, silently encouraging you to continue your course of action, eager to indulge in it with as much excitement as he would indulge in forbidden knowledge.

But then you released him with a pop of your lips. “Well, let’s not get too carried away,” you teased. “Wouldn’t want your new subordinates seeing you like this, hmm?” you straightened his collar and smoothed out the wrinkles you created on his clothes. To say he felt bewildered and betrayed was an understatement.

“And if that wasn’t enough of an answer for you,” you changed your tone to a soft, honest one, “Wherever you go, I shall go too. I decided that a long time ago, Zandik.” There was no need for either of you to say the three words that many others longed for. You knew that the relationship you now had with him was far stronger than a few mere words could describe.

Zandik quickly regained his composure. He would be sure to pay you back for your little stunt later. “Well then, there is much to be done. We have not a moment to waste,” he grinned, halfway out onto the balcony. “Take my hand, and we will be off,” he extended his arm, his gloved hand awaiting your own.

Taking his hand meant abandoning this current life. It meant embracing a new life that was far from morally right, one that should surely lead you to be despised by many. It meant becoming a part of the Fatui for Archon’s sake, an organization that was far from reputable. Zandik and [Name] would become lost to the world, the names only being remembered by the two of you in loving, soft-spoken whispers. Others would only know Dottore and his loyal assistant. If you took his hand, there was no going back… 

And yet with no hesitation, you placed your hand in his. 

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Let me just say, I absolutely adore your writing so much!! Your More Than Anything series with Vox is honestly one of, if not my favorite Vox series!!!❤💙 I was wondering if you could do a kind of silly, fluffy imagine with Vox where they're in their early stages of flirting/crushing and the reader avoids the topic of kissing... because they think Vox isn't able to kiss with his screen? Literally before episode 8, the question in my mind was "Can the dorky TV man kiss?" And then we got confirmation he most DEFINITELY could 🤣 I just think it'd be so cute and funny for that to be something the reader was wondering as well but wasn't sure how to ask him about it without being weird lol

Oh my goodness, such high praise aaaa! I actually have a scene in my Ao3 fic based on the same concept! I'd be happy to write some awkward smoochums! This guy is such a fucking dork and I love him.

Assumptions [Vox x Reader Fluff]

You and Vox had been dating for a month and the overlord was on the verge of insanity. He knew that Valentino had much more intense needs when it came to physical affection than most, but he wasn't expecting such a drastic shift in needs when it came to you.

He knew that being in a real relationship was very different from what he'd experienced before with his fellow overlord. But he thought the two of you would have done something by now. Not even necessarily sex. (Although he'd definitely been fantasizing about that more than he cared to admit.)

The two of you had cuddled, slept in the same bed, and even h*ld h*nds, but you hadn't kissed yet and it wasn't for his lack of trying. He'd invited you on romantic dates and set up several perfect opportunities. But whenever he'd try to go for it, you'd always pull away before he had the chance.

He didn't understand. The two of you had been doing so well. You always seemed to be swept up in the little heated moments just as much as he was, so why?!

Vox had been completely distracted during his entire news segment and groaned as slipped into his secluded dressing room. If it wasn't for the fact that he caught sight of you in his mirror, he probably would have flipped out when he felt your arms slip around him from behind.

"What are you doing here?" he chuckled as he lifted a hand to rest on one of your arms.

"I missed you," you smile, squeezing him gently before letting go. "And I saw that..." you cringe. "Performance. You seemed off. Is something on your mind?"

Vox's eyes widened and he cursed himself mentally for putting on a subpar show in front of the camera. If you noticed, then the audience probably did as well. No one really gave half a fuck about the news, but ratings were ratings.

"It's nothing," Vox muttered. "It's just..."

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression and you gasp as he reaches up and gently takes hold of your chin. His brow furrows as he tucks your hair behind your ear and your heart races a million miles per second as he searches your blushing face for something. His eyes flick down to your lips and he slowly starts to lean, only for you to suddenly push him away.

"A-Anyways I just wanted to check in on you and see if we were still on for a movie tonight," you stammered.

Vox froze, not listening to your ramblings as he processed your deflection. He felt a sharp, cold sting of rejection in his chest and wondered if maybe you weren't as interested in the relationship as he hoped. His heart started to break, but then he noticed the way you were blushing.

"Why?" He asked quietly.

"Well, I just thought maybe you wanted to-"

"No," Vox grit his teeth as he grabbed you by the shoulders. "Why the fuck won't you kiss me? Every time I try, you pull away. We're dating, so why?"

You blinked up at him owlishly, your jaw hanging open before you grabbed his arms and breathed, "You can kiss?!"

Vox's brow furrowed as he looked you over, "Wh- The fuck are you on about? Yes, I can fucking kiss! I've been trying to kiss you for the past three goddamn weeks!"

You gasped before burying your face in your hands and groaning. "Oh my god, I thought... There were a couple times that I wondered, but this whole time I didn't think you could and I didn't want to be weird and..."

Vox stood taller as he processed your words. You didn't hate him. You weren't repulsed by him. You were just...

He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he absolutely lost it. "O-Oh my god! You're such a fucking idiot!"

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You knew he wasn't being malicious, but you were still mortified at the misunderstanding. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault you're a flat-faced fucker!"

You were about to go bury your shame into the couch, fully expecting him to hold this against you for the rest of the day, but you were barely able to take two steps before Vox intervened.

You let out a startled yelp as you felt his claws wrap around your arm and yank you back. In the split second it took you to blink, he'd trapped you against a wall. You flinched as his hands slammed against either side of your head, trapping you as he grinned down at you.

"You are so fucking stupid," he snickered.

Your face only grew warmer as your heart pounded with mixed anger, embarrassment, and something else entirely due to the position he had you in. His hand traces lightly over your cheek before cupping the side of your face as he looks at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen from him.

You gasp as he leans down and presses his lips against yours. Your entire body feels like tiny fireworks are dancing lightly over your skin. You shiver as your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his vest when he pulls you close.

You're both breathing much harder than is necessary when he pulls away. For a moment you just look at each other with half-lidded gazes as you process the sparks that just metaphorically and literally flew. You were pretty sure a bulb went out due to the little bits of blue energy that sparked off of your boyfriend during the kiss.

Speaking of your dork, Vox breathlessly grinned as he squeezed your arms. He let out a small laugh before stepping away from you and turning as more little sparks flew.

"Fucking finallyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Vox yelled as he pumped his arms in the air and kicked his legs like a giddy child.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

I Want to Do What Lovers Do With You.◦○˚♡.˚ₓ

Pairing | Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings | 18+ only, P in V sex, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, praise kink, brief mention of uncomfy virginity loss (not to Eddie), brief mention of underage drinking, drug use, Eddie calls himself dumb a couple times, there’s maths talk early on I promise it’s only short.

Request | Concept. Reader has never gone on a date or anything before, they're not naive, they just haven't been interested in anyone. Eddie and reader have been crushing on each other for a while and when eddie half-jokingly asks them out they say yes. Reader being easily overwhelmed by the newfound affection and eddie having to get them used to it.

Word Count | ~4,000

A/N | So here's the thing. In hindsight I realise maybe you wanted virgin reader, and I didn't do that. I also didn't even write a date. However, I think I got the ~spirit~ of the request. I will definitely write virgin reader in the future, but I didn't do it here, sorry if that's what you were looking for. Reader is new to intimacy though, if that helps.

"Zero point seven." Eddie’s head snaps up from the calculator, waiting hopefully for the approving nods he’s been earning from you more and more. 

"Mm-hmm,” you nod, pointing to the page of rough triangles you’d drawn out for him to practice. "Now remember, the cosine of the angle is equal to the adjacent, which we want, over the hypotenuse, which is twenty three, so..."

"I've gotta divide something now."

"Well, how about you write the equation down with what you have?"

"Shit," he sighs, leaning back in his chair. "That's just your nerdy way of telling me I gotta multiply."

You smile in spite of yourself, knowing that Eddie is the only person who has ever called you a nerd without any real malice. There's admiration, appreciation, in his tone somewhere, under the frustration.

"C'mon. Give it a try and then we can take a break, yeah?"

Eddie's face splits in a conspiratorial grin. “What sort of break are we talking here?"

"That depends on whether you answer correctly."

"Man. If only my real teachers knew how to motivate me like you. I'd probably have graduated early."

"Eddie. The cosine of the angle equals?"

"That’s just cruel. I’m trying to concentrate and you know your teacher voice gets me going."

You have to fight a nervous laugh, choosing instead to bite the inside of your lip and gesture to the paper with your head. Eddie sighs and brings his attention to the square lined notebook, twisting the pen round his fingers while he glances between the question and the calculator. You watch him pull his own plump lip between his teeth, hair falling over his shoulders when he leans down to stare at the numbers on the page the way he needs to do sometimes. He looks so sweetly determined your heart aches.

That's unique to him, too.

When you were twelve, you’d read teen romance novels and imagined yourself falling for someone the second you entered high school. Then you got there and boys were…exactly as they always had been. Sometimes friendly, sometimes cruel, but never very interesting. Your heart didn’t flutter, your knees didn’t shake. 

Even when you lost your virginity, fumbling in the dark, head fuzzy with an early taste of alcohol, and it had been an endeavour of pure mediocrity. You expected it to hurt, but you wanted that hurt to feel like passion. Instead, it was an uncomfortable burn that had you gritting your teeth and avoiding wet kisses until he was done. 

Luke Thompson would catch your eye in Physics years later, looking forlorn and longing. 

Then there had been senior prom, something you had dreamt of when you were a pre-teen waiting for epic romance. You thought you probably would go, if you were asked. But when a smooth talking basketball player had sidled up to your locker, talking all kinds of slush about how he’d always thought you would get along but had never had the guts to ask you out, you’d weighed an evening of dancing awkwardly and pulling a strapless chiffon dress up to your armpits every twenty seconds against sitting comfy in your pyjamas and renting a good movie from Family Video. 

You spent prom night gorging on microwave popcorn and falling asleep with Dune playing in the background.

You left for college, away from Hawkins and high school and boys whose parents knew your parents, and it allowed you one night stands without the pressure of seeing them in class every day after. Just the occasional awkward nod across a hallway, if you remembered them at all. Whatever they were, it was not love, or even affection. You were using them, and felt used in turn.

But now there’s Eddie.

When you were at school together, you moved in entirely different circles. Then you’d come back from your first year of college with fewer friends in Hawkins and a new interest in Mary Jane. You’d been standing in his trailer, fishing in your purse for a five dollar bill when he’d stopped you with, “hey, you’re kind of a nerd right?”

You blinked, raised an eyebrow. “There are seven hand painted Dungeons and Dragons miniatures to my right, Munson. You really wanna play this game?”

He grinned, a little surprised by the bite back. “Yeah, but a real nerd. You’re smart, I mean?”

“Not many people would admit to being stupid.”

“I do.” 

You think that’s probably where it started. The ache for him. Eddie Munson, who you’d always dismissed as another boy with more confidence than he had any right to, stood there in his room, a sad but accepting smile on his face, and told you he thought there was something wrong with his brain.

“I mean, I never understand anything when I’m in class,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “And then whenever I think, maybe, I’m starting to get it, we move on to something else and I’m left sitting there like, hey, you’re not gonna go over that another couple times?” Eddie gave a defeated shrug. “I’m gonna fail again this year, I just know it.”

“Well, you don’t actually know that,” you’d tried, feeling guilty when he’d rolled his eyes at the meaningless platitude. “Okay, what, you want me to tutor you or something?”

“Yeah? I mean nobody smart enough at school would risk being seen with me. Wouldn’t be a problem for you though, right? You’re a college girl now, above that kind of stuff.”

“And the benefit to me would be?”

“Free bud? Or whatever else you’re into,” he shrugged, dimples appearing soon after as he leaned into your space, your heart beating in your ears. “I’ve heard you academic types struggle to stay away from the good stuff.”

So while your new friends from college are spending their long Summer in Key Largo, or camping in Joshua Tree, you are at home in Hawkins, driving most days to Eddie’s trailer to get him where he should be in Math, English, Science and Geography. 

You are giving him more help than he’s paying you for, but it didn’t take you long to think of him as worth it.

Big brown eyes you have to get up close to appreciate, pretty pink lips always smiling when you’re around. He’s self deprecating but he blushes when you compliment and encourage him. Eddie calls you smart with adorable reverence and listens to your opinions. He’s funny and he’s talented and you want to hold his face in your hands and squish. 

It’s like every embarrassing girly teenage crush you never had has been focused all on this one boy and fuck, you weren’t expecting it when you drove up to his trailer for the first time with a calculator in hand, but it’s barely been a month and you want him like you've never wanted anybody. 

You didn’t mind touching people who knew better what they were doing than poor Luke from Physics, didn’t mind clashing teeth and your face pressed into sheets. You didn’t mind that they’d leave in the morning, or you would. You never wished them back. You never imagined holding their hand the way you think about holding Eddie's hand. Warm, big, soft in the palms and rough at the ends of his fingers, chunky rings you want to bring to your face and stare at.  

You think so many things about Eddie you never expected, wonder endlessly about what you wish to know. 

What is his favourite food? Could make it for him as he wants it? Does he like horror movies, or is that an assumption? Even if he doesn't, would he watch one with you anyway, let you cuddle into his side on his Uncle’s couch, jumping and laughing together? Would he want to drive you places, play the gentleman? Would he want to meet your parents? Get a house in the city? Adopt a dog or a cat? Go on dates and be sweet with each other well into your sixties?

What does Eddie picture when he thinks about his future? Are you there?

You wonder if he knows. No matter what he says, Eddie is not dumb, not even close. Surely he has to see that you’re giving more than you’re getting back. 

“Sixteen point one.”

You flinch a little to be pulled from your thoughts, face warm while you check his work. Scratchy, messy handwriting, calculations done correctly. You smack your hands on your knees. “Break time.”

“Hell yeah,” Eddie grins, fingers waggling in the air as he stands to search for his metal lunchbox.

“You left it in the kitchen.”

Eddie pauses to give you a warm, thankful smile, hand coming to lay flat on the left side of his chest. “You always keep me right, sweet thing.”

You have a love-hate relationship with the flirting. It makes your palms sweat like nothing else, your stomach do something it has only ever done at the first jolt forward on a roller coaster, your heart pound in excitement even as it aches with worry. It's exhausting. 

Eddie reappears at his door, hair flying out behind him as he glides over to you, settled on his bed. He settles in next to you, his long arm warm and in line with yours from shoulder to elbow. While he rolls a spliff on his side table, you pick at a new hole on the knees of your blue jeans. You scowl, thinking about how you’ll never locate a pair as good as these in Hawkins, thinking about driving to a city for the day, thinking about abandoning this place altogether, heading back to your college town where good stores sell quality jeans and whatever else you could want. Away from here, away from Eddie, who is beginning to torture you with his smiles.

And his touch.

Eddie grabs your hand from your knee to pass you the newly lit joint, leaving your skin aching to remember the feeling of his calloused fingers. You know his eyes are on your face when you take a drag, and you wonder helplessly if you look cute, or hot, or sexy in your college sweater and jeans, lips wrapped around rolled paper. 

It's a new feeling, and you can't say you're enjoying it. Since spending all this time with Eddie, you’ve come to understand why other people had so much trouble getting their heads down at school. If you thought like this back then, endlessly pondering the prospect of being liked, desired, loved, you would never have got anything done. 

“Hey,” Eddie says when he takes the joint back. “I have a question.”

“No, I don’t expect you to get back to trigonometry when we’re done.”

You hear the rushed breath from his nose, a little amused sound. “No question there. You lose all authority when you’re high.”

“Do not. I could make you study.”

“Nah,” he answers, eyes crinkling at the sides pleasantly, just like everything he does. “You get pretty docile. You’d let me do anything I wanted.”

His fingers brush yours at the next pass, a heated tingle running up your back and across your neck. Your mouth feels a little dry, and you lick your lips like it’ll help, thinking about all the implications of that sentence. “Not anything.”

Eddie has the good sense to blush then, but he quickly shakes his head and powers through. “What I was going to ask was, how come a girl like you is spending her Summer with me?”

You raise an eyebrow, settling back into his pillows to get comfy as your head begins to fuzz, trying to ignore the pleasant hit of his smell emanating from the squished fabric. “Were you smoking this before I got here? You asked me to tutor you.”

“Yeah, and God knows I need all the help you’re giving me,” he says, eyes wide and earnest. “I mean, seriously, I feel like I have a real chance of crawling my way out next year. But what I- what I meant was, and tell me if I’m crossing a line here, sweetheart, how come you’re here, with me, and not road tripping with some college boys or whatever all your friends are doing right now?”

Your face gets hotter. “Does it matter?”

“Does it- yeah. Yes. It matters.”

A prickle of recognition crawls up your spine, stemming from his tone, the way he’s looking at you, how he’s sitting; tense against your side. In the past, you would have felt pure dread, mind working overtime to prepare the required explanation for a boy who was really looking for you to change your mind. Instead, there’s nerves, all along your body, but there is excitement, too. Butterflies zipping about in your stomach. 

“Why?” You ask, passing the joint back, letting yourself freely enjoy the brief touch of his skin, now that you realise that’s allowed. “Why does it matter?”

Eddie blinks at you, his bottom lip shaking. “Well, if I’m being honest,” he starts, pausing to turn away from you and take a long drag like he needs a moment to think it through. Then he eyes you from the side, thumb flicking ash into a metal tray. “I guess the answer might save me from making a fool of myself? If you say that this is all an elaborate prank or I have a rich distant relative paying you to spend time with me or, I don’t know, that helping out super seniors will be good on your resume, then, then I’d accept it. And even this particularly dumb super senior would know not to ask a really, really dumb question.”

“You’re not dumb, Eddie.” You nudge his body with yours, head cottony, loose lipped. “I really, really wish you’d stop saying that.”

Eddie’s gaze moves to your face where you are leaning back on his pillows, watches the subtle turn of your head, rubbing your cheek against the cotton, the feel of it uniquely pleasant after a couple hits. 

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to if you go out with me.”

It sounds like he wasn't even entirely aware he was speaking until he's done. Eddie's eyes widen, his face flushing pink.

“Is that you asking me?”

“Depends on whether you answer correctly” 

Eddie smiles at the repetition, like he’s playing coy, like this is fun, but he is too expressive by half. His big eyes are searching, waiting, with a hint of resignation, to learn that he is fooling himself. 

Eddie always came across as cocky to you, at school. Just like the jocks he hated, he was an overconfident boy. Even now you can picture him stepping up on cafeteria tables and declaring himself a rebel with about a million different causes. But here, alone with you in his room, Eddie makes himself vulnerable.

Your cautious heart calls out to his. Don’t worry, me too.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself not to look away. “I’d say yes, Eddie.”

You receive a classically Eddie slow blink, followed by a grin that screams every ounce of his joy and relief. His head tilts forward. “Shit. You’re serious?”

"If you are."

"Jesus- yes, I'm serious." Eddie nods emphatically, eyes wide like he’s worried you’ll take it back if he doesn’t establish how much he meant it. “We could get dinner? Or I’ll take you to the nice cinema in the next town? Or- or the lake, or I could show you the bar my friends and I play in-”

You gaze at him, butterflies erupting at the sight of his pleased smile, the way his hair moves with every excited tilt and nod of his head. This is new, and exciting, and scary.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ♡ ୧.˚ₓ  

You stay in Hawkins until the end of Summer, until you have to go back to college and Eddie needs work for his final, final year at high school. 

He sends you off with a worn Metallica t-shirt to wrap around a pillow and cuddle into, a buzzy, crackling recording on tape of his voice over guitar, the black ring from his right hand that would be a promise made too early if it was from anyone else. 

You leave him with all the pens he chewed the tops of, hand written practice sheets for every class he’s taking, old notes on differentiation, centripetal force, the River Nile, searched for and retrieved from the back of closets in your parents house. You hope Eddie knows that this is you trying.

Across the months you spend in his arms with weather cooling and trees turning, followed by stolen weekends, every break from classes lasting longer than three days, you learn so many things about Eddie. 

He eats boxed mac and cheese by the pot. When you boil up some pasta on your own, he shovels it down the same way, surprised when the rich homemade sauce leads to you rubbing his tummy all night and trying not to laugh while he groans out that every spoonful was worth the pain.

He likes all kinds of horror movies; psychological and slasher and comedy. Getting you under his arm while they play in his living room and covering your eyes without your permission during the scary parts becomes a particular joy for him. 

“Eddie, get off!” 

“No can do, sweet thing. Gotta protect you from potential nightmare material. That’s my job now.”

He loves driving you everywhere, loves the sight of you in his van, sorting through the tapes in his glove compartment.

“Mega…Death?” 

“The world’s foremost thrash metal band. Great choice.” 

He wants to meet your parents, but he’s scared of what they’ll think of him. Dog or cat, he doesn’t mind as long as it’s not a horrible little yappy thing. He wants to get out of this town forever, live in a city, or really anywhere but here, where he could afford a nice-ish place. 

When he pictures his future, you are there. 

“Course, I would stay in Hawkins if you wanted to move back here.”

You’re trying, all of the time. You want him more than anything, because this is different, this is special, but that’s also what makes it so difficult. You are used to pleasured touches followed by closing doors, and it has left you disarmed to the open way that Eddie loves you, the only way he knows how.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs to your cheek, the roll of his hips a steady, torturous rhythm, drawing long whines from the back of your throat. Eddie’s big hand covers your forehead, pushing sweaty stray hairs away, rubbing your eyebrow with his thumb. The other is tucked under your back, helping you to arch sweetly so the head of his cock can find the spot at the back of your pussy that claims you, makes you desperate for him, with each heavy thrust. His brown eyes are sympathetic to your whimpers, proud of you for taking everything he has to give, even when it feels like your heart will beat out of your chest. “It’s always just a little too much for my sweet girl, mm? Still not used to being touched right.” He sighs, gives you a little pout with shining eyes. “I left you waiting too long for me, didn’t I?”

“Eddie,” you cry, fingers digging into his back, arms and legs wrapped tight around him as if he might leave if you let him loose. It’s perfect like this, his body weighing down on yours. You are too warm, your lungs protesting the lack of space to expand, but you can feel Eddie’s skin against every part of you. Any time you want, you can reach up to tuck some of his hair back off his sweaty neck. You do, earning yourself a perfect Eddie smile and a kiss from soft lips. The taste of his mouth, familiar to you now, makes your body clench around him, arms and legs around his torso, your weeping cunt around his cock. Nothing is like this, nothing is so perfectly overwhelmingly right.

“Oh, I felt that,” he smiles, breath spreading across your face at his chuckle. “Remember the first time you let me inside you? Wanted to be bent over and fucked, like you’re used to, mm?” Your toes curl in embarrassment, wanting to hide your face from him but there’s nowhere to go with his gentle hand holding you in place. You are left with your watering eyes, his pretty face blurring until you just about manage to blink the tears away. “It’s better like this, isn’t it?” He presses kisses down your nose, across your cheek to the corner of your mouth, sighing happily. “It’s better when we make love?”

You seize up, crying out, your back arching further as if you could get any closer to him. Eddie fucks you through the desperate clenching of your cunt, each hit to the spongy nerves of your spot building your pleasure past what should have been its peak. Your hand drifts up his back, grasping his neck from behind, fingers flexing and pulling at his pale skin enough that there will be dark bruises there tomorrow. 

At the heavy sob that falls from your mouth, Eddie lets you up, wrapping a hand around the back of your head to help you bury your face in his neck. 

Eddie hums as you come down, hips moving in tight circles like he’s just trying to get deeper while you weep into his skin. Your lungs feel increasingly restrained, little gasping breaths between wails, still confined between Eddie’s body and the mattress. “C’mon,” he says, leaning down to kiss your temple, rubbing below your ear with his thumb. “Let me see you. Need your pretty eyes to make me come.”

You feel him twitch inside you when he settles you back into his pillows, blinking up at him, finally letting the tears fall. The first time Eddie made you cry like this, overwhelmed at the intensity of feeling for him and all he does to you, you were afraid he would slow down, that it would ruin it for him. 

He’d licked the tears off your cheek and grunted through gritted teeth that nothing had ever made him so hot.

Eddie stares at you intensely now, mouth relaxed and open, letting out excited groans as his hips stutter, almost ready to fill you up. He could cum without your voice, like the others before him, but he is the first who deserves it.

“You treat me so well, Eddie,” you breathe, taking a shaky gasp at the sudden increase in the pace of his thrusts. 

Eddie nods desperately, his bottom lip shaking. “‘M trying.”

“I know,” you nod in turn, grasping his face with your hands, whispering so he knows it is all only for him. “I’m so lucky, Eddie. You’re so good, so good. Better than anything when you make love to me.”

His lips find yours to kiss you, but you end up breathing in his final moan instead, feeling him fill you up right with pooling warmth. Your legs squeeze his back, your pussy gifting you another little peak, a grateful flutter for taking Eddie’s cum deep inside you. 

Eddie drops entirely then, face pressed to the base of your neck. You groan a little, but allow yourself to caress his face, sweep his hair away from his sweaty forehead, hold it away from his heated neck. He presses a final wet kiss to your collar and rolls off you, finally allowing your protesting lungs the space to breathe properly. 

It doesn’t last long. Without ceremony, your whole body is pulled towards him, leaving your face tight to his chest. It steals the fresh air of the room, replacing it with the humidity your bodies create this close together. 

But it’s good. It’s better, because it smells like Eddie, feels like Eddie, and everything is better with him.

[theminecraftbee]

How do you think Three would feel about season 10?

man so. okay the thing is that by season 10 things have probably butterfly effected so hard off of the beaten path that i have no idea if three would have much season 10 as they know it.

for example: season 10 starts with demise. would three... even have done demise? probably not in its early days of hermitcraft, right, like, that's a game grian would design but that i think three would be a little more hesitant to start up. a game about killing people in a fashion with Rules and Creativity is something three could thrive with, sure, and i like to imagine three takes inspiration from like, cleo's head games to come up with a version of demise it ends up enjoying, maybe? but like, even that element is hard to say WOULD happen.

if we go with "season 10's haunted water is an inherent element of the season", i could fully see three getting wrapped up in the fishing thing, because three is very stubborn and if it gives itself a mission of "fish up a mending book" it WILL do that. it would not try to start a cult about it or build a secret chamber but i think it would make like, a mending book spreadsheet or something equally deranged but in a less "big temple" way and in more of "three is the kind of person who made a family tree of sheep with jimmy" way.

i do think a difference between three and grian is that three just. doesn't strike me as particularly possessable. it wouldn't become obsessed with the ocean in the way grian did i think. i think it would like, fixate on the mending book, get it, go "that was stupid", and... i could SEE three liking fishing a lot actually, but less in a "getting possessed" way and more in a "it's a relatively low-simulation activity and also it gets to kill something" way, lol.

anyway i think a really interesting thing here is that three... would not do the permit office. like three Would Not Understand the bit of being purposefully unhelpful. even many years out from being three, the weapon, and instead being three, the person, i think three never QUITE stops finding it sort of inherently frustrating to intentionally do a task wrong. three tends more towards malicious compliance when it doesn't like doing something, but like, fully would love tedious paperwork. additionally, okay, maybe by season 10 three is a bit more likely to take charge fully, but i sort of suspect cub would end up the permit spearhead, not three. three would love the concept of the structure permits provide! three would not inherently like being the person in charge of the permits.

actually this gets into one of the more fundamental differences in personality between three and grian: grian likes being in charge of things but hates and avoids responsibility. three is a bit uncomfortable being in charge of things, but is perfectly comfortable with responsibility and will even take responsibility for things it technically doesn't have to. and at their CORE grian and three both have this supremely type-a thing going on but they express it in nearly opposite ways and i suspect this would be one of the main ways they'd clash, honestly.

but all of that is to say: three would not do the permit office bit, but WOULD like the permits. they provide a Structure to how shops work that three would appreciate and i think by season ten i could see three having gotten into the art of Ruthless Capitalism because it's sort of like killing people except instead you take their money. (three describes it this way back in season seven after etho takes it under his wing and etho wheezes and tells three to never let go of that. anyway.)

so that's just some of my thoughts on season ten with three this is a FUN QUESTION thank you!

[cucumberteapot]

Ugh! I love how so unapologetically punk this film. Obviously, there's Hobie with his battle jacket and electric guitar, and his whole Vibe™ immediately comes to mind, but the subgroups of punk are so deeply entrenched throughout the entire movie.

Like Hobie's style, in particular, reminds me so much of how British punk fashion is accumulating old, worn, even ugly pieces of clothing and turning it into something cool. It's thrift stores. It's hand-me-downs. It's customisations. It's momentos from friends. Maybe even piercings done by friends. It's about taking things from different places and making them your own - which is exactly how Hobie ends up making the dimension travel watch. Another thing is Hobie's blue laces, which I've been told is punk-code for having killed a police officer. We as audience members can go back and forth on whether ATSV is a copaganda film or has its themes, but I believe that tiny detail about Hobie is huge for a film distributed from a country that often values authoritative institutions more than it citizens.

Gwen is implicitly trans and shaves half her head, which is, from my understanding, HUGE for trans women who experience gender dysphoria. A lot of Gwen's fashion and prom dress especially reminds me of Hayley Williams in the late 2000s-early 2010s. It's very experimental, which I feel matches her age and uncertainty about being Spiderwoman, her dad, and Peter's death.

There's also a lot of concept art for Gwen's hair where her side-cut becomes an undercut and she wears it in a pony tail or bun and I just think they're so cool - D especially.

Miles G Morales' design is so heavily inspired by alternative goth fashion and techwear - a mix of combat attire and hip-hop streetwear. It's loose yet slick with it's own customisations in the crown-cut collar and the spray-paint insignia, and incorporates high-advanced technology in the mask.

It's futuristic. A what-could-be. And specifically what Miles could've been if he wasn't bit by the spider. Another cool thing, I don't know if this is related but worth pointing out, is that Prowler wears a modified (leather, bomber, varsity??) jacket. That's kinda crazy for an superhero/anti-hero suit if you think about it. Most of the time you'll see Marvel or DC characters running around in a spandex suit or (for women) almost nothing at all. But like Hobie we see how Miles G styles himself even when he's disguised. Like I wouldn't be surprised if his outfit change was just turning the jacket inside out like a sukajan jacket.

ATSV has so many characters with the own specific styles and it's really nice to see where most franchises are all or nothing when it comes to character design aesthetics.

[shubblelive]

— EMPTY APARTMENTS

summary : wilbur gets to your apartment and finds you and all your belongings gone. you didn’t even say goodbye.

genre : angst -> fluff (“angst” might be a strong word)

warnings : sleep depravation (it’s bed time, wil. you have school in the morning), swearing, wilbur almost has a panic attack

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x reader

pronouns : none (you/yours)

featuring : cc!wilbur soot, lovejoy (mentioned)

word count : 987

note : i'm not the proudest of this, but here you go anyway.

Wilbur hadn’t slept in days. 

It had been a lot, all at once, and he was struggling. He had just got back from America and Dave was already discussing another tour after their next single. He loved travelling and performing; it was what he was meant to be doing. Hearing people scream his silly little lyrics back at him while practically high on adrenaline was a feeling Wilbur wouldn’t be able to replicate with a million streams (as much as he loved them). 

He’d been overwhelmingly anxious in a way that couldn’t be halted by breathing techniques, but he would try his best. Part of it was flying, which he knew shouldn’t have been an active issue given that the song wasn’t even finished yet. What they had been performing was about 90% complete, and another thing giving him grief was wondering whether people would like it. It was different from his first two EPs, and Wilbur knew even the most loyal of fan bases could hate songs. 

That, combined with his hair being everywhere, wasn’t even the cause of the gnawing feeling in his abdomen. That one was simple, and he knew it couldn’t be solved. He missed you.

The tour had been short and he didn’t remember most of it, but he remembered hardly being able to sleep without the feeling of you on top of his left arm. It was worse when he was in the US, and he couldn’t even call you before bed. Of course, he was back now, and he’d been smothering you in affection to the point where you’d had to beg him to let you go and film.

He had been at the studio all day working on the rest of the EP; Wilbur had grown frustrated with just working on that one song when it clearly wasn’t sounding right. It was almost there, but it consumed his every waking moment and he needed a break. Whether it was the song itself, or the music video, or the concept art. The whole thing was just hurting his head, and the feeling was getting worse. 

His eyes were heavy in the taxi ride home, and he’d fought the urge to fall asleep. He was heading for your flat; it was closer. He had a certain paranoia since he’d gotten more known about people knowing where he lived, so he always gave them a random address near where he lived but far enough away that it eased his anxieties. Trudging down the street, drops of rainwater in his hair, he pulled up your texts.

I’ll see you tonight, love, he’d sent early that morning. Yours or mine?

Ha, you had replied.

He pulled out his keyring, finding the key to your place that he’d held onto since forever. It stuck in the lock, like it always did and he closed his eyes as he turned the knob, dropping the keys into the bowl with a clatter and turning on the lights.

The flat was empty. There was still furniture, but all your stuff was gone. His keys lay there lamely on the floor, he was so exhausted he hadn’t even realised you’d taken the end table. Your shelves were bare, the counters were empty; hell even your streaming setup was gone.

You’d left, and you hadn’t even told him.

Was it something he had done? How long had you been planning this? It wouldn’t have been hard to orchestrate, you’d spent most of your nights at his place recently. Where had you gone? Maybe he could find you. At the very least get some closure. 

He called you. Three times. His phone fell from his hand and he lent back against the door. You were the only thing that wasn’t causing him immense amounts of stress, and you were gone. There had been signs, surely. He hadn’t seen any, but there had to have been some.

Did he forget an anniversary? No, none that he could think of. Fuck. What had he done?

He couldn’t stay there, in your empty flat. It was too small, too full and too empty and he stumbled out, through the hallway, down the stairs and onto the street. It was late, the streets were nearly empty but it was too loud. The street lights flickered and Wilbur kicked a lampost. 

It didn’t move. How annoying. 

It took him nearly an hour to get home, somewhat because he continued to try and kick inanimate objects (mostly because he realised he forgot his phone and had to go back). This time, when he put his keys on the end table they fell resolutely onto the end table. 

He flicked the light switch. They turned off.

Why were they already on? Whatever, he probably left them on accidentally. He shed his coat, throwing it over the back of the couch and face-planting onto it. The cushion groans underneath him.

“You ‘right?” Your hand found its way into his hair and his breath was strong against your neck. “Will? Everything okay?”

“You weren’t there,” His voice broke. “I went to your apartment and all your stuff was gone.” His arms were wrapped around you so hard his knuckles were turning white. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” You could feel tears leaking onto your collarbone and you clutched him back.

“Are you alright? Have you still not been sleeping?” Your eyes, warm with concern, met him. “Will, love?”

“I’m sorry.” He kept repeating.

“We’re okay. I promise. I’m moving in here, remember?” your voice was soft, and he couldn’t stop crying.

“Fuck.” His eyes were clamped shut. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“You need a break,” you corrected gently. “You’re overworking yourself, Wilbur.”

It took him a while to calm down, and soon he was nodding in your embrace. “Need you.” That night, Wilbur slept better than he had in months and in the morning you were still there. 

[celestialtinkerbell]

✯°˖Your Villain Era: Medusa (149)°˖✯

I have a theory that Medusa, asteroid #149, shows where you're wrongfully villainized and how your vilification transforms you, in the house that it inhabits in your chart. I will be interpreting this asteroid with tarotstrology, a concept that I got from @taisoleil, a wonderful reader and astrologer that you guys should check out.

Here is my site if you'd like to book a service with me 🌌.

First House

You're villainized for your presence and your looks. You could encounter a lot of people that refuse to take accountability for their own insecurities that could revolve around their appearance or childhood wounds that they refuse to unpack and dreams that they chose not to chase. You transform from this by giving those that are so scared and threatened of you, something real to actually be intimidated by. This can look like empowering yourselves by disempowering the slurs that they call you, unapologetically showcasing your taboos, and appreciating yourself regardless amongst people who want you to hate yourself, once they realize that the damage that they've done didn't shatter you like they thought it would.

Second House

These individuals are villainized for what they've lost. People will this placement could have experienced something devastating and out of your control regarding your appearance, like maybe losing your hair or your teeth, but not limited to just these things. This can also indicate being villainized for what you won't give up, other people could feel entitled to your belongings and accuse you of being selfish for things that you don't have or need to share. You transform from this by upholding your dignity, continuing to move forward, working with what you have, or letting go of what's superficial or socially acceptable. This placement allows you to recognize that you are more than what you possess and that your beauty is something that never left.

Third House

Natives with this placement are villainized for the way that they keep to themselves. People often mistake your introverted personality for someone that's anti-social. You could prefer to have a secluded lifestyle where not just anyone can be in your business and people take it very personal to the point where they'd rather alienate you as a punishment instead of making your privacy peaceful as you intended for it to be. What you say can easily be misinterpreted by others and can deem you as problematic. I can see people with this placement seeking activities where they can be anonymous, like for instance, ghost writing or being a Jane/John Doe with a massive online platform. This transforms you in a way where you gain more confidence and assertiveness with setting boundaries with others, maybe more likely to play the devil's advocate, but also not afraid to speak how you feel regardless if it will be popular or not, but in a way, I also feel like you'll be the person, if not already, that has the guts to say what people want to say, but don't because they're afraid.

Fourth House

Those with Medusa in the 4th house could be villainized for following their intuition and trusting their gifts. In every single card in this spread, there's a person with their eyes closed. This is reminding me of the notorious and lethal gaze that Medusa has, one look, and you're turned into stone. People hate what these individuals pick up on about them but yet they're still prone to be deceptive even though it's futile. I personally feel like this is where Medusa exalts in, because I'm getting that they're not people that can be bullied or swayed, especially when it comes to their purpose. Their "villain" era is literally their birthright. Getting in their way is inevitable because they've learned early to make a "home" within themselves, to be so grounded with who they are to the point where no one can tell them otherwise.

Fifth House

This placement could indicate being villainized for how much you outgrow people. Your tastes are always subjected to change, they never freeze in place like stone. You could have a long history of being surrounded by people who just never seem to change, and as you drift away, whether that be physically or just by your differences in what you do for fun now, they could act very immature about it and that's when it becomes problematic. In the end, you become a person that's eager to never peak when it comes to your creativity and passions. You're always going to be seeking more but at the same, not having expectations because it can be limiting, but with the 5th house being naturally ruled by the sun, this works out in your favor by letting your desires gravitate towards you. You're attracted to those with high ambitions and you will not hesitate to cut off anyone that tries to dim your light.

Sixth House

Natives with this placement are villainzed for having their own specific system. When it comes to following your daily routines, commitments, and morals, you follow them by the book. I'm getting that you guys could've been the opposite at first meaning, always people pleasing and putting others over yourself until you've had enough of your kindness being taken for granted. This transformed you by no longer being the person that sacrifices themselves anymore for anything. You're very crucial about your time and are not keen to those who want to waste it. Freedom and control over your life is what you crave and will push anyone out of the way for.

Seventh House

People with Medusa in their seventh house are villainized for their dualism, the dark and intimate parts about themselves that are ironically not accepted by those that they're close with. I'm getting that on the outside you could be seen as the person that has it all together. People love to depend on you because they see you as this strong person to be around until you're the person that needs a hand or a shoulder to cry on too. It's like Natives with this placement are dehumanized and seen as frauds when they're not this noble hero 24/7. They transform from this by re-evaluating their roles in relationships. They're not a codependent hotline center or Jesus Christ, they're in a relationship which is supposed to be a mutual partnership, and if the other person isn't doing their half, understanding and accepting that one side of a person doesn't cancel out the other, and acknowledging them as someone who deserves empathy too, then they don't meet the criteria as someone who deserves these people at their best.

Eighth House

Kind of like the 3rd house placement, Medusa in the eighth house Natives are villainized for having their own personal space. This could placement could attract domineering and intrusive individuals who feel like they have the right to know your secrets or in general, what you're doing. You have an amazing way of transforming from this. You constantly regenerate yourself to where it's hard for others to keep up with you. You're always going to be multiple steps ahead of others, regardless of how much that they think they know. What makes this placement different from the 3rd house is that you may not prefer to have a private lifestyle, it's just that people are weirdly offended about you having anything private at all. Moreover, I feel like these individuals have a unique way of storing information, they may not want to save anything in writing at all for a particular reason. I'm getting a scenario where this placement could indicate growing up with a parent that would go through their diaries and dictated what they wrote about.

Ninth House

Natives with Medusa in the Ninth House are villainzed for beliefs and teachings. It's possible that you rile up a bunch of controversy in most people that you meet or haven't even met at all but they know about you. Those with this placement are very protected, spiritually. Because of this, you have the most accurate perception of how deities and the laws of the universe work, but ironically, your views are heavily misconstrued. I'm getting that you're not going to be understood by many because you're meant to be leaders that point people in the right direction when it comes to their purpose and getting them acquainted to a higher level of consciousness. People could try to weaponize your (or their) religion against you. Whichever title it is, medium, shaman, healer, a lot of you are meant to be in that field.

Tenth House

Medusa in the Tenth House individuals can be villainzed for two things or both.  The first reason, is your career. You could have a profession in something that's not favorable by society, I feel like this could be sex work, rootwork, an eccentric creative, etc. The second reason relates to the feminine side of yourself being really recognizable and also the most demonized. People hate or strongly abhor you for what they cannot control about you. People never tell the full story about you because they know that they cannot take any credit for what you have and who you are. You could be a prominent figure in a community that's either loved and adored or despised for transmuting your feminine energy into something that isn't submissive. You represent the dark feminine archetype.

Eleventh House

You are villainized in your community and in your friend groups, I'm getting that the reasons for this vary, but it seems like all ties back to other people's greed. I'm seeing that this placement had to endure many painful realizations that they aren't supported by the people that they needed most or that the people that they cared for deeply were not real friends. Like the number 11, I feel as if you guys are mirrors that expose the malicious traits in people who are put on a pedestal in a community, like activists, political figures, celebrities, and even people who have some sort of royalty. I feel like this gave you an advanced level of discernment. I see you guys as underrated heroes. Your betrayals may have inspired you to be huge but private humanitarians that demonstrate that you don't need an audience to do charity work and you don't need an audience to decide what your character is.

Twelfth House

This placement can indicate being villainized for what you did in a past life. Even though you're in a new life, you could have started off with a streak of unfortunate events in the beginning that seemed too much of a coincidence, but it's a repeat of different scenarios in your past lifetimes where you're on the other end of the stick. This placement predicts that you have successfully transformed your negative karma into positive karma by not letting your hurdles keep you in a never ending cycle by learning from them instead of retaliating.

[lollytea]

When it comes to Hunter's side of huntlow, one of the most compelling aspects to me is him getting comfortable with wanting, even when he doesn't feel entitled to it.

Hunter's experience with love is very depressingly one sided, with him putting everything into his devotion to his Uncle, and receiving the bare minimum (at best) in return. He's never dared to ask Belos "Can you sit and talk with me for a while? Can you please think fondly of me? Can you be kind to me?" because he's been programmed to believe that this is far more emotional labour from Belos than he deserves to ask for and he should be grateful with what he is given.

Hunter has resigned himself to not expecting much from relationships. Any trace of kindness will have Hunter pledging undying loyalty to whoever offered it to him, because he believes that person is going above and beyond what Hunter deserves.

He's not going to stop them from being kind to him. He will do anything for it. But I wonder if he sometimes feels guilty for accepting it so wholeheartedly. For being too weak to resist the warmth because he's been starved for so long.

Anyway. This friendship with Willow, the budding romantic feelings and the (eventual) relationship.

The popular consensus around the time that Labyrinth Runners aired, was that Hunter wouldn't even be sad if Willow rejected his feelings because her friendship is enough for him. And while I agree that remaining friends with her is first and foremost Hunter's priority, I don't know if he wouldn't be sad. At least a little. Because in this hypothetical scenario, if Willow rejected Hunter, that means that he must have taken a huge leap and done something that he never thought he had any right to do. He asked for more. He revealed to her that he wanted more.

This is a tricky concept to articulate without giving some people the impression that I'm saying Hunter would believe he's entitled to Willow's romantic attention and if she rejects him, he would get all mopey about it. I'm stating quite the opposite.

Would he gracefully accept being rejected? Yes.

Would he make her feel bad about it? No.

Would he continue to treasure his platonic relationship with her because he still adores having her in his life? Of course.

But would he be sad? Even a little? Well....what I'm saying is that I think it would say a lot about his growth and his feelings of self worth if he was a little sad.

He deserves to feel sad.

I think very early on, when Hunter first cut off Belos, he thought he had everything. He had food and shelter and clean clothes and books and a sewing machine and safety and warmth and fun and love. Everyone was so nice to him. This was practically a utopia.

But as time goes on, he should eventually come to terms with the fact that he's not the luckiest boy in the world, but he simply has what everyone is entitled to. These aren't luxuries. They're rights.

And I think an interesting mental journey for him is realizing that it is not disgustingly ungrateful for him to continue wanting, even when life feels idyllic.

It's not selfish to want to kiss Willow, even when being her friend is already so wonderful.

It's normal to want. It's human nature. And he is somewhat human, isn't he?

I like the idea of Hunter taking initiative in steering his relationship with Willow in a more romantic direction (with her consent, obviously). I like what it says about him and how secure he's become in himself.

It demonstrates that even if his insecurities still linger, he is willing to seek out things that he would have once believed himself unworthy of.

Maybe this thing with Willow won't work out. And that's okay. It's just life. But he at least wants to try. He wants to pursue a relationship. He wants more.

I think it puts him in a humiliating position. But also a brave one. Empowering too.

I would like Hunter to stand in front of Willow and unapologetically ask "Will you love me please?"

[accio-victuuri]

Bunny laoshi’s 1005 birthday CPNs Part II 🎂🎉

part one is here. this covers xz studio’s birthday video and all the clownery that came with it. this day is truly for celebration and i hope all of us are gonna have a good day~

a conversation that’s kinda loud is where the first part of the video was shot, and more importantly, when. because compared to the other sections of the edit, it appears to be his personal time that was added in. and the rest, with them taking photos, those are deliberately for the birthday material.

I thought this was somewhere in IM too, but it’s actually in Beijing. It’s confirmed by the photo he shared on his weibo. The place is at Lianquan Xianggu Natural Scenic Area Tiangong Cave📍Huairou District, Beijing. There are “reviews” from people who visited and said : “Highly recommended as a great place to get close to nature. There are very few people and there are many routes to choose from. No matter what your physical level, you can play!”

So i guess it makes sense for ZZ to visit. But when was this? I’m seeing 2 speculations on when this could have been. However the common denominator is that WYB was with him in this trip. It’s a place where they will not be recognized that much and no crowds.

OPTION NUMBER 1 : September

The theory is simply lining up the date when they were both in Beijing. GG allegedly went back to Beijing on 9/23 to 9/27 for work. Since he has other commitments other than shooting the movie. If you remember, he had a couple of livestreams and shoots. His schedule lined up with WYB who had no public itinerary on 9/26-9/27. So this could be the time window when they went hiking & exploring. Maybe WYB had his camera with him too and they both took pictures.

OPTION NUMBER 2 : August

This one has more clues to it and the guess is 8/14-8-15 which is free time for both of them. 8/13 was also when the mysterious driver was spotted so there’s that. The one who restored the cake mentioned to count the number of the sheep and it should be 32. Also it’s called something like a Beijing Camping cake and the plan for it ( with photos ) was shared 8/15 since this person didn’t know it’s for XZ. However the“original” one who made the concept is from Hangzhou which I already talked about. There are also posts from other people way before this material came out that they did see XZ around that time in the area. Remember there are some parts of LOCH done in Beijing. Tho they said that the filming site was very strict and closed off.

So anyway, I really believe that this was some sort of a joint celebration for them even it’s not 1005. I mean, why would his cast mates celebrate it with him that early??? Unless they both know that the two of them will be busy in the next couple of weeks so why not celebrate it now. While we’re out here camping 🏕️

This photo too, when i first saw it i expected for the XZS bday edit to have the scene where they sang for him. BUT NO. They shared a different “birthday moment”. I’m looking at this and thinking — maybe they didn’t want to share this private moment. They are aware of how eagle eyed CPFs can put things together and notice stuff with photos, all the more in a video. I’m leaning more towards the fact that it’s private and they wanna keep this between.

We could all be wrong about this. As with all CPNs, more clues come out as the days & months go by.

Moving on….

Is this the new favorite mini fan? LOL. I mean the CQL couple fan they have will always have a special place but it’s nice to see him have some “upgrade”.

We are seeing that again! P1 and P3 are a nod to how the sunrise is seen from the space station. P2 which is from XZS video looks like it’s a nod to that too but in a different way.

The whole feel of the vlog too, some of the cuts have that “Like The Sunshine” vibe to it. It’s a common reaction from some turtles, especially if you put the lyrics side by side with some of the stills. You can easily cut the scenic shots and use LTS as the background music and it will fit.

Watching the starry sky with the wild beasts. What is your name, in the shadows. Waking up in the night, silent like me. We lit the bonfire while we chatted. Time sneaks by, falling like flower petals

I have traveled a long way, you have dreamed a long time. If we can exchange our sincere hearts, then we can get through winter. Many lonely nights drift like fallen leaves: But it always finds a way and is always new on the branches. We will meet again, like the world will go on as usual

I have a firefly for you in the palm of my hand. It's some happiness picked up along the way. What is your name, how gentle is your name. Please tell me when the night breaks. We lit the bonfire while we chatted. Time sneaks by, falling like flower petals

Tell me this doesn’t match. 🙃🙃🙃 Their works really complement each other.

I can mention some other elements in the video like the windmills again & that cut with the violin/symphonic sound that wyb just mentioned in his vogue interview. I mean, if you clown hard enough I bet you can connect everything to a candy. But the topics I’ve mentioned here are what’s mostly talked about.

-END.

P.S: I can relate to this so much. The state of turtles right now 😂😂😂

[thelittlepinkwitchblog]

"God he just wants to be loved. All he has is a library and a cat... and Elmister, but c'mon give the man a break." - Tim Downie

Okay so I'm watching an interview with Gale's VA and Dan Allen and Tim's natural voice and cadence are so so close to Gale's it's almost weird. (Not only was the early concept for his audition because on MOCAP he would resemble Henry Cavil from the Tudors. Also, Tim Downie almost voiced Raphael, he auditioned for both parts) Here are a few quotes that made me think of our favorite purple wizard man -

"When I was younger, I was very much a night owl. But as I get older I find myself waking up earlier."

"What are you doing? Go back to bed this instant."

"I need every book here. How many times - it doesn't matter how many times I've read them, It doesn't matter. Don't get into the details."

"I was bidding my time. Just bidding my time, I know my stuff. I've done my research... no it was just complete fluke and luck."

"Horror and comedy work in very similar ways. Creep, creep, creep, open the door, nothing happens. You sigh in relief and then the thing happens. Creating that comfort and then hitting you with something. "

"Although, what you could actually have, maybe some artifact so we dont blow Daddy up. I'm just putting it out there, you wouldn't want Daddy blown up, would you? Of course you wouldn't. "

"What I found the hardest was saying something and then embodying it. Being too cerebral with things."

"The cake I made was perfectly baked, layered, colored. Just little bits and pieces and little ideas..."

"That's what you're watching, an adult man, mid 40's, working hard. I know, it's unbelievable isn't it?"

"OH, there'll be a romance thing. Okay, sure, yeah. Wait, there's going to be a lot of it?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry you're going to have to sit through all of this with me, again. Take a deep breath, and off we go."

"It was great, great fun. A lot of work and hard work to get it all done. But to give it everything it needed and everything it warranted, my Gods it was fun to do."

"I'm just an incredibly modest, calm, calm man."

"This is a trajectory, either it's a good outcome, a bad outcome or a miscellaneous outcome. But on this, it could be any of those things, and all of those things and none of those things."

♡ NOTES ♡

The boat scene in the weave took 4 sessions to film, roughly 6 hours because of various technical difficulties and script changes

He loved filming and recording Gale as a hologram, it was one of his favorite parts

[bonesandthebees]

Hi Bee,

Random writer here looking for some advice. I was very much a Wilbur-centric author and concerning the works that I’ve finished, I’ve decided to leave up because I’m proud of them.

That being said, I currently have an ongoing fic that I’m torn about what do to with. I’ve been sitting on it and trying to figure out what I’m comfortable with but I’m just going in circles at this point.

I hate the idea of leaving a work unfinished and I was really passionate about the concept for this one in particular. But it’s currently only about 20% finished so I’d be in it for the long haul.

I think that emotionally, I could compartmentalize things if I actually decided to keep writing it, but I also don’t feel the same enthusiasm towards it that I once did.

I definitely won’t delete it though, only orphan it in the most extreme case. Any suggestions on how to decide?

honestly I've been dealing with the exact same struggle you have, anon. I'm very proud of all my finished wilbur-centric fics and I'm going to leave them up, but I also have an ongoing fic that I've been torn over what I'm going to do with. under the hanging rose is also only in the early stages (30ish% I'd say) so I'd be in it for the long haul. I've been going back and forth about what to do because I first started conceptualizing rose as a fic in december of 2022 when I was finishing writing the stars and their children. I've been wanting to write this fic for over a year now, and I've finally been able to start it. I've done so much worldbuilding and plotting and everything for it that I really want to follow through with all of that, but it's hard, you know? it feels weird.

I can't tell you what to do here. it's up to your own personal comfort if you think you'll be able to complete the fic. if you don't want to you are under no obligation to do so. writing fic should first and foremost be enjoyable for you. there's no moral qualm here because c!wilbur is a character separate from the guy. we've all agreed at this point the dsmp characters are pretty much our own to do with as we want. so it's just entirely up to you and what you want to do.

for myself, I think I've come to a decision. I'm not letting a terrible person take a story I love so deeply away from me. I want to keep writing rose. it's definitely not going to be updating anytime soon because I still have a lot of conflicting feelings about things, and maybe when I sit down to actually write it it will be too uncomfortable for me and I'll change my mind. but for now, I want to keep going with it. this story is mine, and this version of the character is mine.

it's okay if you don't choose the same way I have. do what's best for you. writing can be such a joyous thing. don't let anyone take that away from you, and don't force yourself to write something you don't want to.

[thefaiao]

What are your inspirations for drawing? Like other artists or things

I'll start with my biggest inspiration, which got me into art as a whole: Adam Adamowicz. I got introduced to him through Skyrim concept art, but I honestly think his Shivering Isles concepts are some of the best concept art out there. You can see how much he just takes an idea and completely sores with it. A torrential stream of beautiful sketchy goodness.

I love Oblivion's flat ass dough faces and early Xbox 360 charm, but this shit is simply crazy. Look at this, it makes you wish to dedicate your life to bringing this to life, as all good concept art should. It inspires more of itself.

I could post all the images there are out there, because I sincerely think this is the type of work that has stuck with me the most. It's something to strive for. You can see it for yourself instead. That was what got me started. After that, and through my journey on Tumblr and Twitter, I think what stuck to me the most was the art done by small artists, my "compatriots". The things you don't see. There is so much love in little things, and maybe in another universe there are entire cultures dedicated to them. I wish we had time to explore each and every one of the smallest pieces of media, especially narrative media, weird media.

I'll concede that it's a bit of an abstract thing to be inspired by, but once you realise how much work goes into the smallest of things, I believe you'll find inspiration anywhere you go. I think the reason why my Batter drawings are the way they are is my inspiration from just the design of letters and fonts in general. I think making something that blurs the line of symbol and representation over and over is fun.

One artist that has stuck with me is the late great Gunner Leatherwood. He passed away earlier this year. I watched this guy grow from a hundred followers to thousands. I saw his art improve. I think that inspiration transcends just the visual aspect of the art. It's a story, a lived experience, as all art is, but I felt I understood it much more. I think going after and following these small artists pay off because of this. Everyone can make something truly great, and some people have and no one noticed. Many amazing animated movies have been made, but never got to the people who would understand them, who'd have dedicated themselves to easing other people into it. We like to think we understand media in a completely intuitive, isolated fashion, but it's not true at all. Our shared experience contributes to classics being recognised and loved. Sometimes you need the right person at the right time to understand. Gunner was a great artist because of how intuitive and visceral his drawings were. It was like he was drawing from his entire life experience to express himself in a page. At first he had little control of it, but with time it was molded and polished so that the madness was discernable, but not gone from the drawing. His mindset for drawing was fun, and he too was always going after small artists of all kinds.

But going back to Batter drawings and abstraction, an artist that has also inspired me over the years in that aspect of bluring symbol and representation into one solid thing, and similarly started somewhat small like Gunner, is Matt Lesniewski. His hatching is out of this world, and his character design is evocative and never boring. The characters are huge balls of symbols made into physical objects. Recently he straight-up draws the belts of characters floating. It's wonderful.

Another artist that does this bluring very well, and is very inspiring, is nailgun waowao. They really, well, nail the appeal of making images that have all the defining elements of a certain scene or character, but open closer look they are fragmented and completely abstracted. It's like a bigger image overlayed with many smaller stories and symbols.

But to go back to talking about active inspirations that came before, and got to me to where I am at the moment, it's a bit harder. I can't really make it sound smart besides going "uuh I don't know like abstract stuff, cubism idk lol." Just try to appreciate the great things your friends make, and try and work together to make something even greater.

Some of the most improvement I had in art was from learning with friends. Art ultimately is a form of communication, understanding other people and yourself will make you better at it. Technical skill is fun and speaks for itself, but your experiences will reach much deeper. In a world where we can't even begin to compreehend the powers that be, loving and understanding what is close is probably gonna make your life and art much better.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Did Yves had previous partners? If so how was it? Was it just to check that out of his bucket list? Also we know what he doesn't like but what's a turn on for him?

TW: sexual assault, abuse, drug use, the whole traumatizing shebang

Naturally yes, but it is mostly to survive or against his will. What is a naive, traumatized, drug-addicted, and poverty-stricken kid supposed to do? He still needed a place to stay, a meal to eat, and some decent clothes to wear.

Growing up as the filth on the heel of society's shoes, Yves was very jaded when it came to partners. They either used him mercilessly or he used them, he never truly loved any of them, and neither did they love him. He loved what they had. Be it money, status, knowledge, a giant wardrobe, emotional stability, or a house with heating.

Maybe it's simply divine (un)luckiness. He did not once meet someone who genuinely wanted to take care of him without anything in return. They would forcefully take away his possessions and dignity if he refused to repay for their service, leaving him stripped, beaten, and brutalized on the streets; where he would be more vulnerable to others with nefarious intents.

He had to sacrifice his humanity to climb the ranks, becoming ruthless and terrible. He learned to do it quietly from a mentor who he eventually betrayed, and was betrayed by. You had a fair chance of being stabbed and robbed by him if you met him too early in his life, Yves was damaged enough that he was an unstoppable machine meant to cause as much harm and disorder as possible.

He wasn't a virgin by any means. Yves was the exact opposite of a virgin, forced to use his already battered body to survive and thrive. He does not want to relieve those days by any means possible, he is done with that. Yves is moving on, just like all those who hurt him and who he hurt.

The concept of sex being something loving, special, and enjoyable has been such a unicorn to him. For the longest time, he didn't believe that it was possible. And, if you aren't his spouse, he wouldn't have believed it, ever. Only when he did it with you, did he see a positive, more pleasant side to sex.

Nothing arouses him, really. You absolutely do, but it must be under very specific circumstances and restrictions.

Yves has his reasons why he chose you and why is he permanently attaching yourself to your life like an unkillable parasite. But one thing is for certain, he is not going to let you go through what he did. You will be shielded from the horrors for as long as he lives, and even if he passes on, Yves will have a contingency plan to keep you safe and happy. Whether you believe in the afterlife or not, Yves will watch over you.

And, that is what love is to him too. The act of protecting you from the worst of the world even beyond death.

To have him take care of you even when his physical form ceased to exist.