#like the only ones that seemed to give a shit my fucking cat died on my bed

[anxiously-sidequesting]

To me personally malistaire is the funniest and most pathetic villain wizard101 has ever had AND I MEAN THAT SINCERELY!!! Between doomed children who have been manipulated, groomed, and isolated into becoming products of their environments, someone scorned who has been punished unfairly by having your biological heart torn out your chest and turning your children and all of reality against you to satiate their own ego, a nonhuman entity so powerful and so clueless they unintentionally threaten the lives of everyone around them, Malistaire FELL DOWN BRO. Like yeah you're bitchless now. You and me both. Get in line. Everyone in this room is bitchless. We are ALL living that ✨💅🏾💃🕺 Single Life™. You are a middle-aged man. Cope

[jennrypan]

Not to be bitter on main but can the world stop showing me cat shit.

FUCKS SAKE.

I get it, I dont have a fucking god damn cat anymore and probably wont ever get one cuz my mom refuses to let me and my job would it impossible to spend time with it!!!! I know! Fuck off and fuck you.

I dont care how your cats doing, I dont care that you found or saw one. SHUT UP. Fuck!

On one hand Im sooo happy for these people but on the other end im so fucking..angry and bitter and jealous and it fucking sucks.

And the fact I couldve spent time with my cat and Ill NEVER know what happened and how she got worse CUZ MY FUCKING MOTHER TOOK MY KEYS FOR TWO DAYS SO I COULDNT FUCKING SEE HER AND I GET BACK AND SHES LIMPING AND CRYING AND I DUNNO WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED FUCK.

I cant stop thinking about it and I just fucking get angry cuz I spent one day with her!!!! And she fucking died!!fUCK. I CANT FUCKING GET OVER THAT AND IF I FUCKING EXPRESS HOW MUCH THIS SUCKS AND HOW MUCH ITS DESTROYED MY EMOTIONAL AND MENTAL STATE ID FEEL LIKE IM BEING DRAMATIC AND ANNOYING.

[grendelsmilf]

madame web was SO fucking funny i love that every single decision they make is certifiably insane but in a somehow very safe and pandering corporately-mandated way. here are some of my favorite choices:

an extended action sequence set to toxic by britney spears which stops in the middle to remind you that the year is 2003 so this song was actually just released

the villain goes to the opera, seduces an elegant woman with a single look, wakes up from a recurring nightmare wherein three teenage girls beat him up and kill him, proceeds to rant at this woman whom he’s just met about how hard it is to know how you will die someday, reveals that he is aware that she an nsa agent, and poisons her while he forces her to tell him the roughly 8 digit code that grants you access to every single security camera and government database in the entire world

one of the girls from girls is his assistant who tracks down three teenage girls for him by making composite sketches of their faces just via his own memories of his dreams. also, they are all wearing masks in his dreams, so how he was able to define all their features is extremely unclear

the fact that spidey powers originated from an indigenous tribe in peru does retroactively imply that every spider person within the spiderverse canon is performing an egregious act of cultural appropriation

adam scott plays UNCLE BEN, but because sony doesn’t have the rights to say the name “peter parker,” they are constantly finding ways to imply that he is, in fact, ben parker without outright saying it. we do see peter parker being born (i guess this spiderman was born in 2003?), but i’m not sure why we’re supposed to care since all of the girls (apparently) seem to have way cooler powers than he does

that said, we only see the girls use their powers in dreamlike sequences of the future. at no point in the present timeline do any of them use their powers whatsoever. except anya does have the power to be a #WomanInSTEM, so good for her.

dakota johnson’s cassandra webb, or “cassie,” (very normal thing to name your daughter who has spider-fueled powers of prophecy btw) cares for a stray cat who represents her own role as a “stray” as an orphan who grew up in the foster system (this is not subtle by the way, she literally says to the cat “gotta look out for fellow strays”). to illustrate that she is secretly a warm, nurturing woman despite her aloof and awkward veneer, this cat’s name is literally “cat.”

the villain of this movie never actually explains his motivation for seeking power beyond the fact that he had a difficult childhood. no details of his childhood are ever revealed. he is not given a single redeeming quality or even a reason to care about him. he is played by césar-winning and bafta-nominated actor tahar rahim in what i can only describe as the worst performance i have ever seen outside of a middle school play. he dies after being crushed by a giant letter S from a pepsi sign. you know. like a bug.

it’s never really explained why being bitten by a spider gives one prophetic visions, beyond the tenuous notion that to see the future is to “weave a web” of sorts. however, despite the fact that we establish that the villain can also see the future, despite having been bitten by the same magical species of spider, he never once is able to predict the future when it counts, such as foreseeing that he should dodge a falling giant letter S.

there’s an extended sequence dedicated to establishing that cassie’s colleague (who later dies in an ambulance crash) cannot grill for shit. as she sips from a refreshing can of pepsi-cola®️, she lambasts him for fucking up their burgers. this is the only piece of characterization they establish for him before he dies.

at the beginning of the movie, cassie receives a very earnest drawing done by a small child in thanks for saving his mother (she’s a paramedic). cassie very awkwardly refuses to accept the drawing, kind of just makes one continuous whine with the corners of her mouth until the entire family is weirded out enough to leave, and then complains that she has no idea what to do with the drawing, and will probably throw it out. we are meant to like this woman, probably.

cassie is a professional paramedic, but a hobbyist car crasher. she drives not one, but two stolen vehicles through the walls of buildings throughout the film, and it seems to be her go-to strategy in any fight.

cassie is allowed to fly internationally despite concurrently being very publicly wanted for the alleged abduction of three teenage girls. we never see her move through the airport despite the film heavily focalizing the issue of mass surveillance and preemptive criminalization in 2003 new york city, so i guess it just isn’t an issue for her. yet another win for white privilege

after cassie experiences a near-death incident on the job that triggers her latent powers of prophecy, her doctor recommends that she take the week off to get some rest and “watch old movies.” cassie clearly considers this to be sound medical advice, as in the consecutive scene, she is shown to be watching an early version of a christmas carol (in the middle of summer) and clearly feels a strong enough bond with scrooge that she feels comfortable speaking to him through the screen as if he were an old friend.

cassie has a vision of her mother researching spiders in the amazon before she died, and almost immediately yells “WHY DID YOU HATE ME!!!!”

cassie’s quest to save three teenage girls she doesn’t know ultimately results in the deaths of many more people, including multiple cops, train passengers, diner patrons, chopper pilots and people she may or may not have hit with her stolen taxi and/or stolen ambulance. but at least julia, mattie, and anya are safe!

after cassie is blinded and paralyzed(?), her entire personality does a 180 and she becomes a very creepy, ominous woman who serenely predicts the near future of her three adopted teenage girls, illuminated by a giant, weblike window. this is all done in service of setting up the sequel that sony clearly assumes is a given.

cassie attends her colleague/best friend’s sister’s baby shower (who happens to be played by emma roberts, and who also happens to be peter parker’s mother) and is for some reason corralled into playing some baby shower games, including “describe your fondest memory of your mother on a small strip of blue paper” (which cassie deliberately leaves blank, leading to a very awkward explanation of her mother having died in childbirth, but don’t worry, you’ll be fine) and “guess the name of my baby” (which is never actually revealed, because sony apparently has the rights to the name ben, but not peter).

anyone else really craving a nice refreshing can and/or glass bottle of pepsi-cola®️ rn, or is that just me?

[deadghosy]

HEADCANNONS OF HAZBIN HOTEL CREW WITH CATNAP! READER

Prompt: you are a resident in the hotel who makes sure people sleep. No one gets out of your grasp of not sleeping.

Warning: you aren’t an experiment, you died to og catnap’s smoke as you coughed going to hell. Also this might be long based on how your reading speed is.

I headcannon you to always walk around at night around the hotel making sure the hotel cast sleeps as you don’t sleep much either.

“I ensure you my friend I don’t need-" immediately Alastor passes out on the ground as the red smoke exit your mouth as you soullessly stare at the powerful man’s body with your creepy smile.

You don’t give a fuck- you are quite ruthless when putting someone to sleep. You had a smug teeth smile as you dragged Alastor by his leg to his room.

Angel was hiding in the hallway scared as red smoke covers the halls. “Shit…” he says as he eyes your tall figure walkby around the other side of the hall as your red smoke exiting your mouth follows

He was absolutely fucked. Angel tried to turn to run only to bump into purple fur as he holds himself at your chest. He blushes seeing your smug smile down at him.

Before he could protest the red smoke hits his face as your wrap your tail around his waist. How did you get so damn quick beside him?! You put him on your shoulder as you walked to his room to lay him down.

No one knows…..

Now when it’s morning time, you aren’t out as usual. Only at night time as you are use to being up at night helping other sleep. It’s part of your purpose and role as you even have a moon 🌙 pendent on your collar.

Hell, Angel is the most closest to you because he has rough times sleeping after working. He wouldn’t tell you what he does but all you know. He is physically and mentally tired from his job as you hold him in your soft arm as you let out red smoke from your mouth.

Your fur smelling like vanilla and lavender helps him sleep as he cuddles into your soft purple fur as you watch tv with a bored expression. Your ear twitches as Angel snores loudly.

Your red smoke is the only smoke he likes that is red.

Charlie found you at her door of the hotel and questioned you to why you wanted to work here. And what did you say.

“I want to help people sleep…” you said with a raspy deep voice as you smirked at Charlie who seemed a little unsure at your smirk as it seemed full of confidence and sinster. But she liked your determination as she hired you.

Of course I headcannon catnap’s fur and so as yours to smell like lavender to match the soft smell of sleeping to help residents sleep better than they ever have.

I also headcannon you have claws that can be retract like a cat. You usually use your claws/nail to cut something for the crew, or to protect from demons or sinner trying to harm the hazbin hotel.

CREW HEADCANNONS!

I headcannon husk walking to you grumbling drunk as he drops on your body without you even needing to use your smoke on him. Honestly you patted him as you both were cats. You both purr in each other presences. Angel and Charlie recorded the moment to save for their whole life.

I headcannon after Lucifer moved in the hotel. He was definitely scared if you because of your endless wide ass gaping smile. But after you actually showed you can stop smiling like that. He stopped having nightmares of you🦆. Poor little duck man had to hold his covers hearing your big ass steps around the halls.

I headcannon Angel and you sometimes compete trying to see who’s chest fluff is most fluffy.

…and you won💀

Literally what did he think when a 8ft tall cat creature who can make you pass out and hallucinate things have much more softer fur than him.

I headcannon Nifty one time tried to make you take a bath, but dead ass you blow the smoke in her face as she face planted on your paw. You laid her on the couch as you walked upstairs to go to bed on your own.

I headcannon that Charlie sometimes tries to make you sleep with the other residents rather than you forcing others to sleep. It didn’t work out well as you stilled stayed up to knock people out.

Lucifer one time tried to talk to you…but he couldn’t get the hang of you being 8ft tall…it actually intimidated the king of hell himself as he gulps staring up at you. He forced you to get down low like a cat to face him as he pets you.

You purred of course with your usual grin making Lucifer blush as he rubs his face in your fur with a star gazed expression. Literally star in his eyes as he actually fells relaxed by the smell of lavender. 

Alastor hates you sometimes, but he loves how calm and quiet you are despite you knocking his ass flat like a bug getting hit with a fly swatter. But he appreciates how you care for people’s health and sleep schedule.

Pentious absolutely loves you as his egg boiz cuddle up to you if it’s winter. You smile your smug smile as you whistle at the eggs who seem happy to be by you as Pentious also snugs himself in your fur

I kinda imagine when most people see an 8ft tall ass purple cat with white pupils with full black eyes staring at them. They piss their pants running as the whole hazbin crew hugs you admiring how soft your fur is.

Vaggie once seen you use your red smoke on angel, and she was concerned as she literally whipped out her spear at you as you only stared confused with a raised brow. You pushed the spear out of your sight explaining that angel couldn’t sleep and asked you to help.

I can see that vaggie, Alastor, and Lucifer were the last ones to actually trust you before believing you have good intentions to helping people sleep.

The ones to immediately trust you was, Angel dust, a little bit of husk, Charlie immediately with nifty and Pentious behind her.

I headcannon you basically breathing out red smoke on accident once and knocking out the whole hotel cast as you sit there with your ears down ashamed

I image angel dust pulling out one of those cat lasers to tease you. But he didn’t know that husk and you would immediately meow and purr for the laser as both of your eyes dilated. Angel died laughing as he took a picture of you falling on your back trying to grab the laser.

I headcannon vaggie to train you to fight only for you to prove her wrong when she woke up gasping for air to find out you used your smoke on her. She woke 5 hours….yeah she never doubted you ever again

I image when watching a movie with the crew, some of them lean on you like pillow while some just use your tail like a blanket while you snore like an old grandpa.

I headcannon the overlords once had a meeting about you as one of them seen you and mistook you for a new scary overlord. But Lucifer being the silly man he is, showed them a photo of you cuddling up with him on the couch. “Nah, he’s just a big ol cuddly cat..” he says with a snake smile as the overlords look at him like “What..the fuck..”

[slutt4lovee]

friends (b.b.)

𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒 - 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2356

warnings: NO SMUT, just cutesy fluff, maybe just a tiny bit of angst but not really, nothing really to warn about. might be some typos and shit but at this point y'all should be expecting this from my dyslexic ass.

summary: After being friends with Bucky for years, you finally get the confession you've been dreaming of.

Being Bucky's friend isn't really as great as Steve made it seem. Sure, Bucky is caring and funny and fiercely protective of the things and people that he loves. Yes, he's funny and charming and everything good in the world, but he is also arrogant and cocky and so emotionally repressed that you're not even sure he knows what feelings are anymore.

Being Bucky's friend means that you're also the Winter Soldier's best friend and that is a horrible feeling. Not because of the fact that he is the Winter Soldier but more so because the Winter Soldier has a fucking martyr complex. Despite the fact that Bucky is an amazing person who you think encompasses every good aspect of the world, he's an incredible dumbass. Not just a regular dumbass, the kind of fucking idiot that thinks everyone else, everything else is more important than him. The kind of idiotic person that thinks everyone but him is worth saving, the kind who runs head first into danger because he genuinely doesn't care if he lives or dies as long as he saves someone. Bucky is the type of imbecile that would run into a building, knowing it was rigged with explosives just to save a cat.

Bucky may be one of the best people you've ever met, but being his friend is horrible.

It's caring so intensely for someone who doesn't even care about himself. It's not being able to see or even speak to him for weeks or months because he's off on some insanely stupid mission to save the fucking world or something stupid like that. It's him constantly thinking he's some kind of invincible god and you having to remind him over and over and over that he's not. No matter how much he might look like one. It's trying to convince someone that hates his entire fucking existence that he deserves every soft, sappy thing in the world no matter how much he thinks he doesn't.

But worst of all it's being in love with a complete fucking idiot who doesn't even think he's worthy of love. You'd take all the anxiety, the panic, the dread, the crying and worry a million times over if you could just not be in love with that complete fucking dumbass. Or if you could maybe convince him that he deserves all the love in the fucking world.

—

You can't sleep, never can when he's gone. Some stupid romance movie you've seen about a hundred times plays on your tv—a feeble attempt to keep your mind off Bucky. To keep your mind from imagining what he's doing on his mission and all the ways it could go horribly wrong.

It doesn't really work.

It's almost impossible to keep him out of your mind. When you're not worrying about all the ways he could be killed, you're pining after him in the worst fucking way.

Just staring mindlessly at the screen daydreaming about him and the way his clothes always fit just right, just enough to give you a good view of his muscles without being too tight. And the way he looks in his stupidly attractive one armed outfits he wears on missions—which shouldn't be so fucking hot, but it is, it really fucking is. And his lips, just everything about them, their shape, their pretty pink color, the way they look so fucking soft all the god damned time. And that boyish, way too endearing, smirk of his that makes your heart feel like it's about to burst out of your chest. And his hands and the way they feel against your skin, rough calloused fingers with a touch so soft it sends chills down your spine. And—and, God you're so fucking fucked about him.

He's your best friend, really one of your only friends, and yet you can't stop thinking about him doing filthy things—that he would probably never do—to you. It's horrible and dirty and disrespectful but you just can't stop, thinking about Bucky's mouth and if it's really as soft as it looks.

You smell him before you even hear him, woody smoke, and honey, mixed with sweat. You smile softly to yourself as he drops his bag to the ground with a little grunt. Your mind moves slowly, struggling through your lack of sleep to put pieces together. You're clumsily climbing over the back of the couch the second you realize he's really there.

"Bucky," You start to say, stumbling a little at the ungraceful way you dismount from the back of the couch. "What the fuck?" You ask, waving your hands up and down in his general direction.

He's not sure if you're questioning his appearance or his presence...maybe both. You're not really sure either.

"I just got back," He mutters, words dripping with exhaustion as his arms slip lazily around your waist, making you trip over your own feet as he pulls you into his chest.

"You didn't text," You whisper, matching the soft tone of his voice as you slide your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He doesn't respond right away, he pulls you closer instead, grabbing onto your shirt to keep you there as if you had any plans on letting go. He makes a soft, barely audible noise, as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. His arms are tight around your waist, holding you to him like he's scared you're just gonna disappear and the thought makes your chest ache. You tilt your head, squeezing your eyes shut as your nose presses into the top of his shoulder, your lips just barely touching the leather on his jacket. Your nose floods with his scent, and you find yourself wishing you could capture it and keep it forever. He smells like camping in the summer, like searching for bugs and plants and pretty rocks in the woods, like staring up at the sky and pointing out the prettiest ones.

He smells likehome, warm and cozy and safe.

Slowly it feels like every ounce of worry and dread is leached out of your body. He's home, he's safe, he's here in your arms and nothing else fucking matters. This is the good part, this right here, all the worrying and sleepless nights are worth it just for this feeling. This happy sort of peaceful relief you get every time he comes back safe.

"M'sorry," He mutters after a few seconds, his words muffled in the crook of your neck. "Jus' wanted to get home."

Your stomach twists at that, a giddy sort of feeling floating around in your stomach at his words. He came straight from his mission to you. Didn't stop at his place, didn't go to the compound, he came straight to you. Straight home to you.

"Took ya long enough." You whisper against his shoulder, voice light and teasing as his grip on your shirt tightens.

He doesn't say anything, but you can tell this one must've been rough on him. It's obvious from the way he's clutching your shirt like a lifeline. Holding you to his chest like he thought he'd never see you again, like he's scared to let go. You don't ask him about it, he'll talk when he's ready, but you do hold him just as tight as he holds you. Rub your hands along his back, over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, lingering the softest touches everywhere you can reach because you know it calms him down.

"S'good you came home, you were gone so long I was about to come lookin' for you." You tell him, smiling softly against his neck at the little snort he lets out.

He's quiet for a bit longer, just standing there with his arms around your waist, his hands clutching at your shirt like he's terrifiedyou're going to vanish. After a while he relinquishes your shirt and before you can even think about pulling away, not that you would, his hands are running down to the backs of your thighs.

"M'sorry," He murmurs into your neck, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist like you weigh absolutely nothing. "Came as quick as I could, darlin', didn't even get to shower or anything."

"Did you eat?" You ask softly, holding onto him a little tighter as he hooks his arms back around your waist.

He shakes his head and you start to offer to cook him something while he showers but he's walking in the direction of your bedroom before you can get a single word out. He nudges your bedroom door open with the toe of his boot without saying a word and it makes you frown because Bucky is never silent around you. Talks so damn much you started to think he just liked the sound of his own voice (really he just loved the sound of yours but he's not about to admit something that sappy).

"Do you want to eat?" You ask, voice all soft and sweet in a way that makes his head spin.

He shakes his head again and without even letting go of you, he falls forward onto your bed, sandwiching you between him and your mattress. He's heavy, dense, thick muscle directly on top of you, but you don't complain. You wouldn't dare tell him that he's crushing your fucking chest because then he'd let go and you don't want that.

He settles with his head on your chest, his ear pressed up against the center of it. Listening closely to the sound of your heart like he didn't believe it was real. His hand slips a little under the hem of your shirt but stays resting on your hip as if all he wanted was just to feel your skin.

He's silent for a while, laying so still that you almost think he's fallen asleep. You don't say anything either because what could you possibly say? You could tell him about work or something but you're almost certain he doesn't want to hear that.

"Thought you were dead..." He whispers as he nuzzles his face against the center of your chest. His hands squeeze at your hips and you can't shake the feeling that he's trying to make sure you're real.

You don't really know what to say to that either. You stroke your fingers through his hair and you swear you feel your heart break a little at the pain in his voice.

"God, I thought you were fucking dead..." His voice cracks a little this time and his arms wrap around your waist tight, too tight but you don't say a thing. You're happy to just let him squeeze the life out of you if it makes him feel even a little bit better. "They...they got in my head, made me see things...and all I could think about was that I never got the chance to tell you."

"Tell me what?" You ask and you think your voice comes out a bit strained because he immediately loosens his grip.

"That I'm fucking in love with you," He forces out, voice rough with emotion as he shifts a little so that he's looking down at you.

Your heart fucking stops at his words and all you can do is just stare up at him like a complete fool. Cheeks flushing bright red and eyes wide as you stammer and choke on 16 different failed attempts at speech.

He loves you. No. He's in love with you.

"I thought you were dead and all I could think about was that you didn't know I loved you." He tells you, voice softening some as his eyes scan over your face. "All I wanted to fucking do was hold you and kiss you and just fucking touch you again and I know that's so fucking selfish of me but...fuck."

"You...love me?" Your voice comes out all meek and unsure as you look up at him. You're not even sure if your heart has started beating again because it feels like you could, very well, drop dead at any fucking second.

"Of course I do you fucking idiot." Bucky laughs and the sound is utterly heart wrenching to you. He tries to smile but it just looks so fucking sad that you want to cry.

And maybe he's right and you are a fucking idiot because you can't think of anything to say. You want to tell him you love him too but the words won't come up, they stick in the back of your throat and make you choke. All you can manage is to reach out, grab his face, and pull it down to yours in a pathetic excuse for a kiss.

He kisses you back instantly, taking control of the kiss, somehow calmer than you. His lips are soft and sweet against yours and nowhere near as clunky and uncoordinated as you but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. He smiles a little against your near frantic lips, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face.

It's not your first kiss, not even close, but you're so clumsy with it that it damn near feels like it. He hums against your lips like it's the best damn kiss he's ever had, strokes his thumb over your cheek and laughs when your teeth hit his.

You think he'll pull away, you would if you were him, but he doesn't. If anything he kisses you a bit harder, trying to take control of the kiss and guide your lips to work with his and it works wonders, you practically melt into it. He makes a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat when you finally relax and then his tongue slides over your bottom lip and you melt all over again.

You've never been the biggest fan of tongue kissing, it's always just so wet and slimy and forceful. But there's something about the way Bucky's tongue slides so so softly across your bottom lip that has you parting your lips without a second thought. And you don't fucking regret it at all.

It doesn't feel all slimy and gross like you're used to. His tongue is soft and wet and there's a faint hint of sweet mint as he kisses you. One of his hands squeezes at your waist under your shirt and he fucking groans like kissing you is the best thing he's ever experienced.

He kisses you until you're both breathless, until your lips are raw and swollen and slick with spit.

His forehead presses against yours and his voice comes out all hoarse and raspy as he says, "Fuck, I could kiss you for fucking ever,"

You laugh at that and the noise is so soft and sweet that it makes his breath hitch. You flutter your eyes open, thumbs stroking at the side of his neck as you look up at his flushed face.

"I love you too," You whisper and God, the way he smiles sends a jolt of warm heat through your body. "I didn't say it earlier, but I do. I really fucking do."

[forteafy]

3 + max!

MV1 x 'You and your stupid smile...Get that shit away from me.'

I've NEVER written for Max before, but I'm low-key in my enemies to lovers arc with him.

Loosing your paddock pass was bad; the rain tricking down the back of your neck was worse.

Working behind-the-scenes of Formula 1 came with some incredible perks; good pay, cooperate outings & the anonymity of your life; you’d seen it go really bad for some couples which had gone public. The same had gone for you and your ex-boyfriend, the golden child of Christian Horner. 

After a few weeks of cold stares and silence, the press had died down on your part, leaving you alone whilst the cameras were continuously shoved into Max’s face; his stance was to keep his head down, his target solely being his third championship. Eventually, you faded back into one of the unknown faces of Red Bull Racing, a whisper sometimes crossing from a rival team; you. It was you. The ex-girlfriend of Max Verstappen. 

Albeit, being well-known may have helped you in your current situation. Instead, you were stood in front of a security guard, arms folded as he waiting for you to pull out a pass. In all fairness, how many women showed up in team attire, playing the card that they had ‘forgotten’ their pass? Your phone was still at the hotel; a silent regret you had thought of, imagining your pass laid atop of it on your mad rush to leave that morning. Fuck Christian Horner for moving the meeting two hours earlier. 

You were on the verge of admitting defeat- you would have admitted defeat, if not for the sudden eyebrow raise by the security guard and the voice emitting from behind you. 

“She’s okay. She’s with me.” He nods, pulling his cap tighter to his head upon the weather becoming heavier. There’s a gentle pressure at the small of your back; after giving a thankful nod towards the security guard, Max leads the two of you through the barrier, waiting until you reached the other side to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“No pass? That’s not like you.” He hums; his voice seems almost a ghost, having barely spoken more than ten words to one another in the past few months. 

“No. Blame your boss.” You huff, feeling your clothes dampen by the minute. On top of the triple header, it seems you’re going to be carrying a huge cold through Austria and Silverstone. “Who moves forward a meeting at four in the morning?” 

Max can’t help the smirk settling on his face; he’d miss this. The upmost sulking. The sheer black-cat energy that emitted from you. Everybody had been used to seeing him as the grumpy trope, anybody who knew the two of you understood it was so, so different. 

“Don’t.” You snap, the wind only getting heavier, now soaking through the Red-Bull shirt you’d freshly steamed that morning. 

“Don’t what?”

“You and your stupid smile…get that shit away from me.” 

You’d not been able to get his grin out of your mind for weeks. Interviews, meetings, press conferences, nights out. It was always there, a reminder he wasn’t the cold, heartless brute the media could paint him as. 

Your mind is drawn out of its trance of thoughts when you feel a sudden warmth pressed around your shoulders, vision darkening as something covers your sodden head; Max had wiggled out of his own windbreaker, slipping it around your body, pulling the hood up to cover your head. The man waits patiently, and at this point your body is so cold, it will take anything. 

It’s clearly not thinking either, as once you’ve adjusted the garment, you automatically reach out to clasp Max’s hand, breath catching when you feel nothing but raindrops and cold air. 

You prey he hasn’t noticed, ready to simply thank him for his gesture and walk on. What you didn’t expect, was for his hand to find yours, motioning forward, hands interlocked for the first time in months. And you couldn’t be mad, not truly. Not when you looked up at the man whom sacrificed his warmth and dry for you. 

And especially not with that smile. A smile that emitted when Daniel walked past, eyes widening at seeing his favourite couple reunited for the first time in months. 

Max says nothing, but his smile says it all. 

[melminli]

Devil's Advocate II

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quiet amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 1.5k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part I

"So...ya and that pretty lady over there seemed to be pretty tight, if ya know what I mean." Angel Dust asked curiously, ready to hear some tea. He grinned as he tilted his head to the side flirtatiously. "She some ex of yours, or somethin' like that?"

Husker just looked at him with his usual grim look while he was cleaning a few glasses. Then his gaze briefly wandered away to your figure, who was forced to deal with the Radio Demon and the Princess of Hell. Yeah, you haven't really been successful in getting out of this hotel yet.

"None of your business." He said with his monotone voice and let Angel hang his head in disappointment. "...I'm far too sober for this shit."

A groan could be heard. "Oh, come on, ya grumpy cat! Don't leave me high and dry, I know there's some good story to be heard!"

Before Husker could leave him hanging one more time, a red demon manifested next to them, much to their surprise. "I would also like to hear this good story, if you wouldn't mind sharing it with us, my good friend!" Alastor expressed his interest and looked menacingly at the barkeeper for a few seconds to make it clear that he did not have the privilege of turning his request down.

Fuck you, Larry. This is all your fault. "...we go back a long way." He reluctantly shared the information. "She was obsessed with money back then too, so I saw her in the same casino as me sometimes. Though, she died a long time before me, so I've only really known her since I went to hell." He summarized as briefly as possible.

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" He asked, a little disappointed, even though he hadn't expected the man in front of him to be a good storyteller. "How did she die?"

Cat eyes looked a little nervously at the two people in front of him, while he didn't make a sound. How unfortunate, Alastor thought to himself, and his sharp teeth showed as he understood the situation. "Looks like Husker isn't allowed to tell us this information. That's very interesting! Very interested indeed..." He laughed, and his creepy gaze shifted briefly to your figure. "Seems like we need to find out directly from the source."

The once Overlord looked over at Angel Dust with slight concern and saw how the spiders' eyes were also glancing towards your form. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, but demons as reckless as him fell into your trap like flies to a web. Besides, it wasn't like he was on your best side right now. "I'd be careful." He said to the crowd even though he didn't give a rat's ass about Alastor. "She's not known for making packs with demons left and right for nothing, and I can assure you there's not the slightest chance of escaping from her contracts once you're in it." He said and added. "That's the price for holding up her end of the deal without any sneaky tricks, I suppose."

Well, that sounded unusual. After all, it was normal that one Demon after another stabbed the other in the back, there was no such thing as trusting the other person's word. But maybe that was why you were so popular. "Calm down, I'm not gonna sell my soul to her." Angel laughed. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

Husker placed another clean glass on the counter. "It doesn't have to be your soul. She'll find something she wants from you, and she's good with her mouth, so you'll give it to her. They all do in the end." He said and reached for a bottle of whiskey, ignoring the two incredulous looks he received. He took a sip and was initially confused as to what was going on with the two until he realized what he had said and choked on his drink. "Words! I meant to say words, damn it." He corrected himself.

Alastor didn't blink for a few seconds, and Angel, on the other side, just laughed amusedly. Maybe he wasn't so wrong with his first guess, after all. "Of course ya were."

"Well, thank you for your kind hospitality, but I'm afraid that I'll be taking my leave now." You spoke to the two girls. As much as Charlie regretted it, she couldn't convince you to spend a few nights at the Hazbin Hotel. Apart from the fact that she would have had a new guest, it might have enhanced the hotel's reputation if someone as renowned as you had visited. Though, unfortunately that didn't work out.

I've messed up again. Charlie tried not to look too depressed, even though she really was an open book. "Oh, all right. Thanks for listening to me."

You smiled while rubbing her shoulder. "Of course, darling." You replied, but that didn't really seem to cheer her up. You couldn't help but be a little gentler with her, she had a good heart for a hell born. "Let's make a deal." You suggested to her as an idea popped into your head.

Right after the sentence came out of your mouth, Vaggie narrowed her eyes and stepped protectively in front of her girlfriend. "Charlie doesn't make deals with demons like you." She said protectively, and you leaned closer to her at what she said. Your pupils narrowed to slits and two more eyes opened menacingly on your face. "What do you mean with demons like me, little lady, hm?" You asked her as the light in the room began to flicker, and you saw her continue to stand her ground, even though you could smell the slight fear emanating from her.

You pulled back again and returned to your normal self. "I'm just kidding, I know I'm a greedy bitch." You laughed out and saw how Vaggies eye twitch in irritation while Charlie laughed along a little uncomfortably. "Well, even though I wouldn't mind making an official deal with the little princess, I was thinking more of a friendly kind of deal." You suggested. "I'll put in a good word if the subject of your hotel comes up with anyone I know, and in return, I'd just like to ask you for a teeny tiny favor."

That didn't sound so bad. It would be good for their image if someone like you would spread a few good things about the hotel. Before Charlie could agree, Vaggie straddled back in. "And what does this favor involve?"

You conjured up a collar with a bell and an old Poloroid camera with a snap of your fingers. "Make Husk wear this and take lots of photos of it. Preferably of the process too, 'cause I'm working on some thank you cards for my company." You say and put the two things in her hands. You then remembered something. "Oh! And give this to him too." You added and handed Charlie a piece of paper. "That bastard owes me sixty thousand dollars 'cause of that Berry guy, or whatever his name was."

You were about to turn around and walk to the door when you met two red eyes right in front of you. "Leaving us so soon, what a shame." Said the Radio Demon with a smile as you took a step back so that you were no longer face to face. "Your presence turned out to be quite entertaining, I too had secretly hoped that you would give our great hotel a chance." He announced, pointing his funny stick at you.

You pushed it aside with your finger. "Well, thank you, Blossom, but I'm afraid my presence is in demand at other places." You pronounced not very regretfully.

He raised an eyebrow and would find your nicknames more amusing if he'd understood the reference. "And where would that be?"

You looked neutral. "I actually have a massage appointment at six. See you then." You said goodbye and went away with a poof after you clapped with your hands.

A few seconds of silence passed after you disappeared, and Vaggie looked at the objects in her hands again, a little questioningly. "So, what's the best way to go about this?" She asked Charlie, who was already looking thoughtfully at the bar. "Let's ask him first. Maybe he's in a good mood."

Vaggie looked at the man in question and saw him drinking a large bottle of alcohol before throwing it in the back to get his hands on another one. "Sweetie, do you know Husk?"

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Dangerous Woman

Summary: you’ve been a thorn in Lloyd’s side for too long. Turned out you were wearing him down.

Warnings: smut, minors dni, daddy kink, dub/non con towards the end, creampie, rough sex, name calling, if there’s any tags I missed please tell me lol

(A/N: there’s no way I’m alone in my new obsession with Lloyd Hensen so I wrote this fic hoping others would see my vision. Unedited. Like, follow, and reblog with a comment 💜 ✌🏾)

———-—————-—-—————-———

It was an understatement to say that Lloyd saw you as a thorn in his side.

The way you seemed to pop up wherever he may be. Trying to get your hands on the same shit as him. Who the hell did you even think you were, trying to step to him. Must have been out of your goddamn mind.

You’d fancied yourself as a “good guy.” He took it more so to mean you were just boring. Couldn’t keep up in a world like his so you had to become a whatever the fuck you were trying to do to feel like you were doing something special.

But what were you really doing aside from annoying the fuck out of him? Not much. Well except…

It wasn’t often that a man like Lloyd found someone that could keep up with him in the slightest. He liked being one step ahead in any given situation. Was a man with a plan even if those plans didn’t account for any casualties. He didn’t give a shit if people died as long as he was still living the world was blessed with his presence and that was all anyone needed.

So when you started popping up like a gnat to the finest fruit, he knew he had to squash you somehow. Not like he was against playing dirty to get to where he needed to be. Just because you wanted to be a goody two shoes doesn’t mean he cared. If anything it only made him want to get you to cut this shit out sooner.

Such a shame though. In another life he could have marveled at your beauty. Found you cute enough that he’d even be willing to make an honest woman out of you if you didn’t annoy him so fucking much. Maybe that’s what made it worse. Crushing on the enemy? What the fuck was this? Middle school?

But first he needed to find out who the hell you were working for. So far the CIA had been ruled out. You didn’t appear to be a cop. Unaffiliated with that other shmuck and his team. That was the strange part.

Yet you managed to keep up somehow. Funny how that worked.

First it started out with you intercepting a “package” he was supposed to pick up. Then you somehow ended up getting your hands on a very expensive painting that he was pretty sure was meant to be hung up in his humble abode of a mansion in Croatia. And he was pretty sure you were responsible for that building blowing up when he had his eyes on a target.

The paranoia had started eating at him. Making him feel like he always had to watch over his back. Grown men hadn’t bothered him as much as you had. Each encounter seeming to be a bigger version of the one before and that’s why he was making it his mission to destroy you.

——————————————————

“I would have had her if you stupid fucks would stay the fuck out of my way!” He yelled as he stomped up their stairs. Not wanting everyone to know how things had really went down.

This was supposed to be easy as hell. Should have been an in and out if anything. Just take you out and boom he could finally move on from this game of cat and mouse. 

He had you! The two of you finally getting into it one on one when he found you alone on top of the building. Was just about to pin you down when the team came up. Making you do a quick disappearing act.

Before anyone could respond because it’s not like he gave any fucks about what excuses they came up with, he stomped up the stairs. One more move away from throwing a full blown tantrum. This shit should not be this fucking hard.

Lloyd huffed as he retreated to his bedroom. For once didn’t even want to say anything anymore. Probably because this was total and complete bullshit.

For once he wasn’t getting his way and he really didn’t fucking like it. It wasn’t like they didn’t know who the fuck you were. It was like you weren’t even trying to hide it. Of course he had the technology to crack your nothing ass passwords. It was the same for everything.

Sure there were things they had nothing on like your family and where you came from, but they knew your name. Your fucking phone number. What you looked like.

Almost like you wanted him to find all that shit. God it- it pissed him the fuck off. How he couldn’t stop staring at those photos of you. Like he was waiting for you to pop out from the shadows. Then he could finally show you just how fucking much you annoyed him.

His chest tightened as he inhaled deeply. Feeling a fire in the pit of his stomach. He can’t remember the last time something had gotten him this worked up.

How he found even more ready to finally get rid of you was that each time he looked, he found himself going over every feature. From those eyes to that curl in your lips to the cleavage you were definitely not trying to hide.

It wasn’t like Lloyd couldn’t get any woman he wanted. Of course he could. For all the things they say about him all of them wanted to know what it was like to get a piece of him. They’d be willing to put up with it for a millisecond.

Hell he hadn’t even been able to hit up his usual roaster of broads as he’d been too pre-occupied by you. Fucking, ugh!

He doesn’t know what it was. Call it a crush as disgusting as that sounds, but he found himself fucking obsessed with the idea of getting his hands on you and at this point you’d toyed with him so much he wasn’t even sure how he meant it anymore.

Maybe it was that no woman had ever given him a real challenge before. He couldn’t marry some basic bitch that wouldn’t understand his line of work. He deserved better for himself.

No, no. He wanted the type of woman that was just as ruthless as him. One that didn’t shrink down in his presence and let him walk all over. Someone that understood his vision for the world.

The only problem was he didn’t know what the fuck you were trying to do. But god he couldn’t stop fucking staring at that cleavage.

He didn’t even think he wanted to kill you first when he finally caught up with you. No, no, no. He wanted you to really feel it. Something… something that’ll make you understand his frustration.

Torture might be fun. Obviously tying you up. Getting that rope real tight. Duct tape around your mouth so he couldn’t hear a fucking peep. If he was really feeling like a dick he would really fuck around with you. Maybe stuff something in your mouth so you couldn’t even whimper.

He’d get a gag just for you. Or not give a shit and really humiliate you. Maybe shove your panties in t-

Lloyd shook his head. Not even sure about what the fuck he was thinking. Clearing his throat as he stepped under the shower head. Hoping to wash it all away.

If anything he was tired of thinking about you. You didn’t deserve this much attention from him. Rolling his head back as he tried to force himself to relax.

He didn’t like being this tense. Would definitely need a massage soon. Hmmm could get one of those girls that would give him a happy ending to do it. Definitely a good idea. He could really use the release.

What would really release him, is catching up to you. Forcing you to be the one to do it. Tying you up, panties stuffed in your mouth, maybe topless with those clamps attached to your-

Fuck what the hell was going on with his head. What was actually wrong with him. He knew he couldn’t be this attracted to some cleavage to make him lose his fucking mind. He was Lloyd fucking Hensen. He didn’t lose his mind over some random bitch.

Right?

Maybe it came from his need to absolutely over power you. Take advantage of you for once. Show you that he was the one in power. God he’d fuck you until he split you in half. That’s what you deserved.

It was like he was an autopilot. Had went from trying to bathe to getting distracted by how hard he was. God he doesn’t think he’d ever been like this before. Just raw fucking need.

Lloyd grasped it in his hand. Tilting his head back as he starting to move up and down his shaft. Fuck. Yeah what it he turned the shock on. Really get down to business punishing you.

Unlike his usual session, the two of you could be alone. He wouldn’t want those fuckheads to see those parts of you. Not to see he was totally against fucking you in front of an audience. But this would need to be something he did specially to you.

He could see himself degrading you. Telling you what a little bitch you were for taking shit shit. Fuck you like he hated you.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking shit like this. And yet once he told himself to stop the feeling just grew.

That was when he heard a giggle that made him jump. Stopping what he was doing to grab the fluffy white towel to wrap around his waist.

Either you had him paranoid, or-

The banging on his door let him know he wasn’t totally full of shit.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s in the house!” He yelled. Still only in a towel and totally unprepared. Of course you’d catch him jerking off. Not that he even wanted to think about how it was you he was fantasizing about. “You stupid fucking morons! Are all of you that shitty at your goddamn jobs you couldn’t keep look out?”

He needed to get his gun and change considering you’d caught him with his cock out. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As he went back to his bedroom he was ready to rip his hair out. Couldn’t even jack off without you trying to fuck with him. He swears he heard that little giggle. Where the hell were you.

“Hello, Mr. Hansen,” the greeting came out as a purr making him turn around to face you.

There you were sitting on his bed. The little cat suit you were wearing was taunting him. It clung to you in a way that made him almost think it could have been painted on. He wanted to wipe it all off and that fucking smirk off your face.

“You know you’re really fucking annoying,” was all he could even say. That feeling coming back in his chest. God he really did want to fucking destroy you.

You shrugged, before standing up. Crossing your arms. “So I’ve heard,” you replied. “What can I say? I don’t stop until I can get what I want.”

“Really? Because it seems like what you want is to get on my fucking nerves.”

There goes that giggle again. The same one he’d heard in the bathroom. Had you been watching him? God, and you were a little fucking pervert. Just wait until he gets his fucking hands on you “And what if it is?”

“Look, whatever you’re trying to do I need you to either step the fuck out of my way-,”

“Or?” You cut him off.

“Or I put a bullet in your ass.” He took a step closer to you.

“Figures you wouldn’t fight me like a man about it,” you replied with a smirk.

“What? Is that what you want?” He laughed.

“Well, no,” you mused. “I just thought you’d be a bit more… diplomatic.”

“Do I look like a give a shit about diplomacy?” He growled.

“True,” you replied. “I mean neither do I so at least we’re on the same page.”

“The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I’m curious to know what the hell your deal is.”

“I dunno, Mr. Hansen, you tell me.” Once again you purred out his name, getting a little closer to him. “Maybe you have something that I want.”

“Well, whatever it is get it out of your mind.”

You pouted. “What’s the matter? Don’t think you can take me?”

He found himself wishing he could fuck your face. Maybe then he’d get you to shut the hell up. Pretty soon the gap between the two of you had closed. You cocky little shit.

That’s when he finally grabbed you. Turning you around so he could wrap his hand around your neck. Shoving you into the wall. His towel loosening around his waist. “I think you want me to do my worst to you. That’s why you’ve been doing all this shit.”

You struggled against him as he pushed your face into the wall. You’re not gonna do shit.”

His lips getting close to your ear. “I’ve been dying to destroy you. Do not fucking test me.”

The grip around your neck tightened as he found himself pushing his body against you. A thought flashing in his mind about how he’d just jacked off thinking about this very moment. Shit.

“Is that a gun under your towel or are you just happy to see me?” You teased.

“You’re not exactly in the right position to make jokes.”

“No? Then what am I in this position for?”

“You’re not the one asking questions, you little bitch.” He could have sworn he heard you let out a little gasp. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“How did you even make it passed my men?”

You let out that fucking giggle again. “Come on, Mr. Hansen. You and I both know they’re not the most competent. Besides this is between me and you.”

He finally loosened his grip so you could turn around. Though he had you still pinned. Wasn’t about to let his guard down.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

“Because you have something that I want,” you replied with a shrug.

“I’m getting real fucking sick of your cryptic bullshit,” he said, grabbing your neck again. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end you right now?”

“Because you need a girl like me,” you said, then bit your lip. Were you enjoying this? You sick fucking freak.

“I don’t need shit from you,” he said.

“I dunno, Lloyd. Definitely feels like you need something from me,” you said.

As much as he was trying to annoy the affect you were having on him it wasn’t exactly easy. Considering his dick clearly wanted to make its presence known.

“Shame you didn’t get to finish taking care of that in the shower,” you added. “You know I think we’d work well together, you and I.”

He rolled his eyes. Deciding to humor you. “And what makes you say that?”

“Let’s be real, all of your men are morons. Wouldn’t it be nice if one person under you wasn’t?”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “And you’d be the person under me?” He laughed.

“I could be. In more ways than one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it,” you said, reaching down to finally grasp his cock in your hand making him hiss. Licking your lips. “You didn’t get so worked up after our fight for no reason.”

Lloyd groaned as he let you work your hand up and down his length. It didn’t make any sense how good it felt. Damn he’d needed this bad.

Thoughts flashed in his mind again of him being the one to tie you up. Putting clamps on your nipples and turning on the electricity to watch you jolt. He wasn’t sure what kind of affect you were having on him but his dick clearly didn’t care considering it only grew harder as you worked it up and down.

A knock on the door, stopped you from taking things further. Making him look down and then up at you with a glare. Fuck. Not these idiots interrupting the two of you again.

“What?” He barked, trying to act like things were normal.

“We can’t seem to locate the target,” one of his guards told him, trying to look everyone else but him as he stood in front of him, not having bothered to cover up.

“Well, keep looking and don’t come back until you’ve got her. I shouldn’t have to do every fucking thing around here.”

As he slammed the door in his face he turned back to see you back on his bed. God he still wanted to wipe that smirk off your fucking face.

He found himself grabbing your face. Squeezing your cheeks in his hand and bringing your head up. “If you want this, let’s get one thing straight. I’m the one in charge. I sign off on every goddamn thing you do. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” you said again.

That was when he leaned forward. Finally closing the gap between the two of you as he finally put his lips to yours. You putting your hands on his shoulders as he brought your leg up so he could grind his hardness into you.

Quickly pushing you away, by grabbing your neck again. “Hope you like it rough, Dollface, because I don’t plan on showing you any mercy.”

“You promise?” You pouted at him again.

God he should have known you were a little fucking slut. “Is that what you’ve been wanting? That’s why you’ve been pissing me off. Needed me to fuck the annoying out of you.”

“Uh huh,” you whimpered.

“Beg for it. You don’t get to just have my dick after all the trouble you’ve caused.”

Before you could even say anything, you got on your knees looking up at him. “It’s prettier than I thought it’d be.”

“Yeah?” He groaned.

“Mhm,” you hummed out. “Can I please put it in my mouth? Been wanting to suck it so bad. Can I? Please? Can I suck your dick, Sir.”

Lloyd knew that as soon as he said yes, his brain would shut off. Was he ready for that? To have his guard down around you.

“Hold on,” he said.

You groaned. “What?”

“Because just because you look like a good like cock sucker doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Another pout came on your lips. “Fine.”

“Ever sucked dick with a gun pointed at you?” He asked as he came back with his firearm in hand.

Fucking whore he could see you salivating. “No, but there’s a first for everything.”

Lloyd groaned when you finally put your mouth on him. Sucking him like you’d done it a million times before. Fuck you were good with your mouth. Had him thinking that damn maybe he did need a little freak like you around.

“Fuck,” he put his hand in your hair. “You’re a good little cocksucker.”

“Think so?” You asked him as you pulled off.

All he did was glare at you. “I don’t think I told you to fucking stop.”

With that he tightened his grip in your hair. Forcing himself back into your mouth. You wanted to do this? Then you would have to take him exactly like he wanted you to.

He pushed you back so your head was against the bed. Pinned in between the mattress and his hips. You wanted to act like a thirsty little bitch for him, then he’d treat you like one.

Lloyd Hensen could be a very cruel man and sex was no different. He wanted to dominate. Show no mercy. Maybe you were the perfect candidate to be treated like this. Not like he hadn’t already been thinking about it.

He moved his hips so he could fuck your throat. Laughing to himself as you gagged around him. Finally letting you off so you could breathe.

“Get up,” he demanded grabbing you by your hair again, so he could toss you on the bed. Still in that little suit and he needed to get you the hell out of it.

Hurrying to take off the thigh high boots because the quicker he could have access the quicker he could fuck you like he’d been wanting to. Something about a woman doing all this shit to impress him made him only want to fuck you more.

As soon as your skin came into view he got to nipping at your skin. You were so damn ready for him. Maybe it was because of all the fighting served as a kind of foreplay for him. Maybe you were onto something.

“Lloyd,” you gasped, putting your hands in his hair. Tugging at it as he started kissing your stomach. Pushing you down so he could move to your thighs.

Bringing your legs up so he could finish taking you out of your suit. His lips going to your tits as he climbed on top of you.

“Ugh!” You moaned.

Fuck you sounded so pathetic, but he kind of liked it. Wanted to bring it out in out more. Take you down a few notches. Make you really feel it.

Fuck what the hell were you doing to him. Was he really planning on keeping you around. After all of that? Right now he had the upper hand and instead of taking you down to his men, he was about to fuck the shit out of you. And you were a very willing sex toy.

Maybe a part of him was flattered even. All he knows is you did look sexy as fuck. Ready for him to use you however he pleased. But first…

You let out another pathetic noise as his tongue touched your clit. What can he say? He wanted to know what you tasted like.

And fuck did you taste good.

“Fuck me, please,” you sobbed out.

“Yeah? And why should I do that?” He asked, pulling away. Keeping his fingers inside of you so he could twist them inside of you. “I could get a million other bitches on my dick. What makes you so special?”

“Cuz I think you like the challenge,” you replied.

Lloyd rolled his eyes. Couldn’t argue with that one. That was the worst part. Instead he pushed you back down to climb back on top of you. Keeping your legs up so he could still finger fuck you.

“Fuck!” You gasped into his mouth as he started kissing you again.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Little slut. Did all this shit for my attention. So fucking desperate for me. You just wanna get fucked that bad.”

“Uh huh,” you breathed out as you tensed up. Could tell he was getting you on the edge and he wanted nothing more than to push you there.

“Fuckin’ cum for me,” he said. “Cum all over my fucking hand.”

The way your body jolted as you squirted out. Trying to find something to grab onto as he took you over the edge. Damn you were getting his sheets all messy. Nasty little slut.

“This what I do to you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you cried as you finally clawed at his shoulders. “Oh god! Oh my god!”

“That’s a- that’s a good bitch keep cummin’ for me,” he hissed into your ear.

You let out another one of those embarrassing little whimpers. “I- ugh- god!”

While a part of him wanted to keep doing this another part wanted to feel this wet little pussy creaming on his cock. Watching as your grool covered his hand.

Lloyd smirked at it and then back at you. Chuckling to himself before smacking it onto your face in a sharp slap. Making you let out a little squeak before he smacked one of your breasts. Fuck be was having so much fun disrespecting you. It was exactly what you deserved after all the trouble you’d caused.

And god was he planning on fucking you like it. He’d get to the other punishments later. For now he was gonna let his dick tell you all you needed to know.

He dipped the head of his dick into your wetness first making you mewl. Fuck you were so ready for him. And he was ready to give it to you.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried when he finally slammed in. As if he was about to go easy on you. He’ll savor it later. Right now he needed to hate fuck you.

“Acting fucking crazy just so you can get my dick. Wonder what’ll happen when you’re fucking addicted to it for real,” he said into your ear.

“Lloyd!” You squeaked scratching his back. “Yes!”

He was so deep. Definitely trying to rearrange your guts. You scratched at his shoulders. Practically clawing at him.

He grabbed the back of your head, bringing it up as he pressed his forehead to yours. Your deep breathing fanning across his face as

“This what you wanted, huh?” He asked with a groan. Fuck you felt good all tight and snug around him. Only getting worse as you clenched around him. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked into your ear next.

“Yes, Daddy,” you cried.

“That’s it. That’s a good little bitch. You know who your fucking daddy is don’t you,” he groaned. “Cum for me, Baby. Cum all over daddy’s dick.” He hissed as you did as he told you. Screaming out with tears in your eyes.

Lloyd pulled out, but didn’t let you get comfortable in thinking he was going to let you take a break. Instead he just grabbed you again, snatching you close so he could pull you into his lap.

“Come here,” he said, grasping your hip as he positioned you on top. Not giving you anytime to recover from your orgasm as he worked you up and down his length. Slamming his hips up so he could meet every thrust.

You pushed his hands away, getting on your feet so you could take better control. Lloyd let out a moan as you started riding him just fucking right. Like you’d done this a million times before.

He tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he got comfortable underneath you. He’d be lying if he said he’d felt a woman feel as good as you did. The way your pussy tightened around him. How wet you were. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t the only one about to get addicted.

He grabbed your ass as you leaned down to kiss him. Gripping your flesh as he moaned into your mouth. Fuck. He was not about to be able to hold on at all.

“Shit, I didn’t put a condom on. Lemme cum on your face,” he groaned as he tried to push you off. Instead you stayed firmly on top of him. If anything riding him a little harder. Slamming your pussy down his dick like you were trying to force it out of him.

You shook your head as these gasps came from your mouth. “No.”

“Get- fuck!” He groaned as it started to hit whether he liked it or not. His eyes rolling to the back of his head. “That’s it, Baby, fuck you’re riding me so fucking good.” He groaned.

You put your hands on his chest, holding him down as he succumbed. “You’re mine!” You purred as he felt it hit cumming deep inside you. Not stopping until every last drop of him was milked from his cock and inside of you. Even sinking down a little deeper like you were trying to make sure you got it all. Breathing all heavy as you fell off of him finally.

Lloyd looked at you, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. If he’d been expecting for you to be the one obsessed, he had another thing coming apparently. But that’s why men shouldn’t stick their dick in crazy, he was bound to get hooked.

[soukokumychildren]

Short stories part two in comin' guys! Idk how much I've made since the last one, so here goes-

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Chuuya: I can't fuckin' hear ya! Kunikida: Well, fine, I'll come clos- Chuuya: IM TOO BUSY NOT LISTENIN' TO YA

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Tachihara: My disguise is flawless! Chuuya: Oh yeah? does not know who this guy is What does it look like? Tachihara: brandishes his signature band-aid Chuuya: Raises brow Tachihara: puts it on Chuuya: jumps like a cat HOLY SHI--TACHIHARA?! WHERE IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK DID YOU COME FRO-

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(Chuuya doesn't like people touching him)

Chuuya: choking on carrots Someone random: I know the heimlich, I know how to help! Chuuya: frantically yelps NO! dies

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Fukuzawa: All I ask is for you to hug them. Chuuya: looks frantically at Shin (I will not give them the high and mighty title of Soukoku) Y-you're kidding. Awkward chuckle. Fukuzawa: Fatherly raise-eyebrow look. Chuuya: Eheheh…eheh…oh come on… Also Chuuya: Slowly looks to Shin and specifically looks at Akutagawa Atsushi: Awkwardly raises arms Chuuya: Stumbles over, tries to raise his arms to hug them both and pulls away last second Nope. Nope. Can't do this. I'd rather vomit. I actually can't look at his face. Jogs over to where Dazai was while watching from the side-lines Dazai: Chicken. Chuuya: Oh shut up, dumbass. You would have killed them had they touched me. Hiss.

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Dazai: Wanna see a magic trick? Chuuya: takes a moment before he understands Oh shit- Atsushi: OOh, sure! Dazai: grabs Chuuya before the avian can escape Guys, c'mere!~ Chuuya: DAZAI NO-DON'T YOU DARE YOU SWORE TO ME- Kunikida, Ranpo, Kenji and Yosano: Wander over grudgingly except for Kenji Chuuya: Fuck fuck fuck fuck let me go- writhing and flapping his wings but iTS NO USE Dazai: Watch, guys. Scratches the back of Chuuya's ear Chuuya: Takes a few seconds of silence but then bursts into a ball of aggressive purring Yosano: Oh my god. Kenji: ✨ 0 ✨ Kunikida: O_O Ranpo: Trying so hard not to laugh Atsushi: QMQ W-w-wh-wha- Dazai: Tehdahh!! Chuuya: Fuck--purrr---you shitty--purrrrr--DAZAI--PURRR somehow gets away with wings flapping in his wake as he runs to the bathroom Also Chuuya: Oh my---purrr---fucking god. That shitass promis-purrr..purrr.. F u c k. I'ma revoke the keeping him alive policy, I--purr--swear to GOD-

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Chuuya: "Fuuuuuck you." Dazai: "Fuck you!" Chuuya: "Fuck me, then, coward!" Dazai: "Sure thing you needy little shit!"

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Bram: There used to be a plethora of werewolves during my time. Such things were most common.

Chuuya: …Hmmmm. I can kinda like…get you something as close to a werewolf as I can.

Bram: Please do, I'd be most grateful. It has felt like a millenia since I've last encountered such a common kind that seems so terribly uncommon in these parts.

Chuuya: Disappears, and from the distance: Yo, Atsushi!

Also Chuuya: drags Atsushi by the scruff back to Bram and throws him on the ground like a sack of potatoes Here he is. He's more of a cat though, really. But he's still got the moon shit goin' on.

Bram: This pathetic mongrel? Looks mildly disappointed

Chuuya: Yeahhh, I know. This guy sucks, but he still got the semi-werewolf going on.

Bram: Do you perhaps have anything more than this…creature?

Chuuya: Er..unfortunately….no.

Atsushi: …I have ears, you know. Still on the ground

Chuuya: Pretend you don't and let the adults keep talking.

Atsushi & Bram: …

Atsushi: Screw this. Sits up and walks away

Chuuya: grabs him by the scruff again He's just a tad stubborn. If he turns into a full tiger under the full moon, do you think that'll help?

Bram: Sigh I suppose…there's certainly only one way to find out.

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Dazai: Addressing Chuuya’s parents your son calls me daddy too ^^ Chuuya: DAZAI WHAT THE FUCK—

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C: Don't make this worse. D: Define worse-

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Chuuya: You’re bullshitting me so hard right now. Dazai: …. Chuuya: claps hands great, when do we start?

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Chuuya: a cowboy? Eh…I’m not big on riding horses. Dazai: but you’re big on riding me? Chuuya: huh? Dazai: Stupid shit eating mischievous look Chuuya: gets it oh—OH FUCK YOU—

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(Opinon: This one is shit)

Chuuya: tries making a nest Dazai: not helping Chuuya: Dazai, ya ass, come here and help! Dazai: but I’m disabledddd Chuuya: oh fuck off. We’ll see how disabled ya are when I make you carry all the shit we’re gonna get from the store. Dazai: blinks since when are we going to a store? Chuuya: since now. Get the fuck moving. 20 minutes later at a department store (I think)

Dazai: Y’know, you remind me of the stereotype I heard on the internet. Chuuya: mmmm? Dazai: where women have a knack for comfort in bed, so they have an exorbanatly large amount of pillows and blankets? Chuuya: comes close and hisses Ain’t my fault that I’m half dragon and in need of a nest! Fuck off about the subject or so help me, damnit!

….so the nest was built afterward, and Dazai served timeout in the corner for 20 minutes instead of snuggling with Chuuya in his new nest

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Chuuya: twittering Dazai: listens to him and knows he's saying something but doesn't know what Atsushi: joins on the conversation, growling and snarling to Chuuya Chuuya: twitters and whistles back Dazai, feeling jealous: You guys have a secret language now!? No fair!!

~~~~~

(Part 2 kinda)

C: Starts twittering to Atsushi A: Growls back to him to start the conversation A few minutes later…. C: Gasps and comes out of animal speak "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" A: "Nuh uh!" D: Quickly comes in and grabs Chuuya before he could whack the shit out of Atsushi C: "LEMME GO!" D: "Chuuya calm down-" C: "That mother fucker is going to FEEL MY WRATH-"

----------------- (This could be either counted as au or canon, but here's a funny short anyway)

D: I'm gonna fuck you, Chuuya. C: You mean fuckin' kill me, right? D: …. :) C: You…mean fuckin' kill me….right?

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Chuuya to Dazai: Here, hold this gives him his gloves and ring Chuuya: Goes over to Clthulu HEY SQUIDDY! Clthulu: Turns around by jamming its tentacles into the earth and spinning its massive body towards Chuuya Chuuya: I hope you glued those tentacles on tight. Oh grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again. Corruption insues

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Chuuya: I identify as an asshole. Grins and puts hands on hips Dazai: And I identify as the dick. Chuuya: … Dazai: … Chuuya: Gets it OH YOU DICK- Dazai: Case in point ;D

-- That's caught up to the most recent ones! Enjoy :))

[suffarustuffaru]

why the emilia camp thinks otto is their most threatening member 👍

i see some people being confused on why the emilia camp collectively seems to agree that otto is the biggest threat there for some reason and like. yeah. i get it.

but let me explain real quick why i think it makes sense for the emilia camp to think that :O !!

otto though is disarming because. well okay look at him he doesnt look threatening at all. he has the looks and personality of a wet cat. hes whiny. hes cringe fail. he gets stressed out with paperwork. he looks like you could just smack him around like a bug. he HAS been smacked around like a bug. but that makes him unpredictable because apart from roswaal, he is the Most Amoral one there. you can expect roswaal to be trying some shit, but youd never know when to expect otto is planning something. his moral compass is just “does this benefit me or my loved ones in some way? if not, then its gonna be gone 🥺”.

sure, he does nice things sometimes out of the goodness of his heart. he genuinely means well a lot of the time.

but also then you read the shit hes thinking in his internal dialogue and its like.

“should i go save some girl i dont even know from bandits??? hmm lemme think for a couple minutes. im the only one that can help rn… some guy claiming to be her dad is begging me to help his daughter, but also hes kind of annoying… but i dont even live in this city so why should i help… or Care. actually. but i feel kinda bad about this girl… but also this is gonna put me and my profits in danger… but if i reject helping then im forever gonna be known as the guy who abandoned them and then i wont be able to make any sales in this city anymore :<<<< ……anyway im gonna help them then lol im so smart.” and then he gets captured by the exact same bandits anyway so hes like “well okay now me and this girl might be sold into slavery so i might as well save both of us or ill feel bad ☝️☝️”

(yes. yes this is genuinely ottos thought process if you read through the Otto's Bittersweet Peddling Log side story.)

except all the back and forth Calculation he does in his head Stays In His Head and doesnt match up with his outward appearance most of the time. which means that sometimes his words dont match up with his actions. “dont be surprised if i leave at the first sign of danger,” he says, right after risking his life and writing a suicide note over a dude hes known for like four days. “ahah thanks for giving me a vacation to see my family…” he says, damn well knowing he cant go back home yet otherwise he’ll get sniped by assassins. “im gonna give you some of my own money bounty money to help you BUT BUT BUT DONT THINK THAT IM NICE OR ANYTHING I NEED MOST OF THE MONEY FOR REPAIRS OK YOU CAN ONLY HAVE A BIT :<<<“

this also means that whenever otto says or does something Particularly Questionable, all his friends are still kinda blindsided by it because otherwise otto seems Mostly Fine in comparison to whatever the hell everyone else has going on. hes just a wet pathetic cat of a guy ahah. theres nothing more going on with h—

“if everyone in vollachia dies but rem and natsuki-san live, then we’ve won. if everyone in vollachia lives but rem and natsuki-san die, then we’ve lost.”

um otto can you repeat that. what the fuck did you just say.

otto looks Mostly Normal, Just Stressed Out or Somewhat Chilling the vast majority of the time, and then he whacks you over the head with a steel chair. like can you imagine being garfiel and learning that this pathetic rag of a man is actually pretty brave when it counts. youre like “oh cool lol we kinda beat each others asses and i was Annoyed but now that thats all over i got some newfound respect for you!!” and then you read through his diary and hes got a suicide note in there, which is like. okay fine whatever hes kind of a clown just like my New Captain lol but hes dedicated to his friends, ill give him that. and then a year later you find your now brother figure (whos also lowkey highkey an alcoholic) with a broken hand after punching a wall because he couldnt do his Lets Abandon 50 Million People Plan and youre just sitting there going

and okay dont get me wrong—subaru is Batshit Crazy. in Multiple Incomprehensible Ways. if the emilia camp (or Anyone. At All.) knew about all the shit hes done and been through with rbd, subaru would INSTANTLY be skyrocketing up the Most Threatening People list. but at the same time subarus less threatening than otto in the sense that subarus Always going to want to do good. hes Always going to want to save everyone. hes Extremely forgiving, on top of that. he goes along picking up friends everywhere he goes in his own Incomprehensible Unhinged Way and hes fond of All of them.

otto? yeah his opinion of you could shift on a dime and you could end up in his personal shit list unless youre one of the *checks list* *clears throat* maybe like ten people he cares about. and even if youre on the I Care About You! :) list, he could still get pissed enough at you to, i dont know, punch a wall over you? and spiral into obsession? and even if hes not upset at you hes still gonna mansplain manipulate malewife his way to his goals <33

and yeah of course subaru is also Mansplain Manipulate and Gaslight Gatekeep but at least he has way more good intentions AND his attitude about it is gonna be like "sorry :<<< i just gotta do this for your sake :<<<<<< :((( haha dont worry about it". subaru would never ever want to do anything big to hurt his loved ones (except for rbd). while otto doesnt even bat an eye. everyone can be manipulated if he has to. he goes down his list of Things I Need To Do and goes "yeah that had to be done. oh well. anyway i got more shit to do (like maybe kill a toddler lol)"

also lets talk about roswaal's perspective really quick. post-arc 4 hes like "well subaru-kun is always gonna want to save everyone and hes doing a pretty good job of things in general so whatever lol. i can still keep him in check by killing everyone if even one of his friends dies :)". so its like. YEAH subarus an Unhinged Wildcard. roswaal knows that. but right now subaru is more predictable and also again, roswaal knows he can keep subaru in check by making subaru have to reset if roswaal really needs to.

but otto? yeah ottos second in line for being an Unhinged Wildcard. but whats even worse is that otto is Basically Subaru but More Calculating and with a moral backbone thats Near Nonexistent. roswaal was genuinely concerned for otto in arc 8 for once and there was still Literally No Stopping Otto from being a stubborn little shit whos hell bent on all the maladjusted insane mentalities hes got floating around in his head, half of which he doesnt even say out loud, and all of which he thinks is Completely Right and that theres Nothing Wrong with what hes doing.

and also otto being underestimated and Not In The Tome was a big help as to how subaru got the win over roswaal in arc 4 👍and then otto Continues to try keeping an eye on roswaal after arc 4, to the point of getting roswaal's tome and actively trying to investigate roswaal's actions, so roswaal is Very Aware that otto is. a bit of a threat. roswaal of course is smarter and more powerful than otto though, but that still doesnt change the fact that otto is still capable of being a threat if roswaal doesnt Also kind of keep an eye on otto back. because roswaal kind of lost to otto already in arc 4!!

but okay, on top of all of this, no one knows the full extent of whats going on with otto, not even roswaal (though he has his Suspicions), and most definitely not subaru yet (whos Still a bit of an otto apologist anyway), and otto is already a bit menacing even without knowing All of that. and the rest of the emilia camp are already a bit more lenient with roswaal (as hes seemingly chilled out after arc 4 + they all need him still). that, and you can easily Expect roswaal post-arc 4 to be suspicious and Probably up to something. you wont know what it is, but you wont Exactly be surprised when it happens.

and also roswaal isnt publicly batshit crazy like otto is. otto of course isnt as Openly Weird as subaru, but otto is still Openly Unhinged and Pathetic. just look at him declaring julius and anastasia, HIS CAMP'S ALLIES, as enemies right to their faces alsdfjlsdjfl.

and with subaru, there is Zero doubt in the emilia camp's minds that subaru wants the best for them and everyone around them.

otto though? yeah he also wants whats best for the camp. he Cares about them, he really does. but hes so obviously Questionable by the time you get to arc 8 to the point where the entire rest of the camp starts eyeing him like this:

theres also the fact that ottos dp allows him to have eyes and ears Everywhere so long as he doesnt overuse it. that paired with his Intelligence, Stubbornness, and Lack of Morals or self-awareness/sometimes guilt/regret over his actions is dangerous. theres a reason why gluttony if subaru decided to flood The Entire Surrounding Area Around Otto. the flood took away the potential army otto couldve made out of the animals and allies otto had in the city, and once you do that, whats otto going to do against someone like shaula? all of ottos power regarding his People Skills and Animal DP was stripped away.

but if that Isnt stripped away... well honestly otto can do whatever the hell he wants the moment he figures out a solid plan to try and get what he wants. his biggest ability at the core of what makes him dangerous is his ability to quite Literally be in the background. so long as hes underestimated, so long as he still has secrets, no ones gonna know the full extent of his bullshit!! you cant stop him if you dont even realize what hes going to do, and hes Good at doing that!!

and if gluttonybaru hadnt taken out otto, subaru would be skyrocketing right to the top of ottos shit list after subaru literally just killed All of ottos (and previously subarus.) loved ones. otto wouldnt stop until he figured out how to destroy subaru. its to the point where im pretty sure if otto had to choose between destroying half the world vs kill gluttonybaru once and for all, otto would certainly choose one of those options in a Heartbeat.

anyway. if youre an emilia camp member, and you see the dude whos in charge of the Vast Majority of the factions political affairs, the guy who you Know is very intelligent and competent and determined when it counts, say shit like "if everyone dies in this entire country i wouldnt even give a single flying fuck as long as our friends get back safe and sound :) it would be such a loss if the entire country lived but our friends didnt :<<<" OF COURSE I WOULD BE LIKE YEAH THAT GUY IS THE MOST DANGEROUS ONE HERE. HE HAS THE SKILLS AND THE MOTIVATION TO BACK UP THAT STATEMENT AND I WONT EVEN KNOW WHEN ITD HAPPEN. he also has the Mental Instability to back that up too, given the amount of times he spends drinking and Raging and Being Terribly Anxious over Every Little Thing.

youll be sweating buckets being wary of otto while ottos casually standing there with his wet cat looks and a knife in your back.

and otto has, for the most part, some of the most normal trauma compared to a bunch of people in this cast (not to discount ottos trauma and pain or anything but its true lajdsfls sorry otto. but also im not sorry because arc 5 was partially on you T^T). he doesnt have rbd, he doesnt have some weird family drama bullshit going on like the astreas or emilias family or the segmunts, he hasnt been erased by gluttony, etc etc. but hes still like this. if you put him in subarus position and gave him rbd, he would get even worse than he already is.

yeah so anyway thats my quick rambley psa about why i think it makes sense that the emilia camp's voted otto as the most threatening one there 👍

but the fact that we (the audience) (or at least some of us!!) keep questioning why the hell the emilia camp thinks otto is the biggest threat there is means that otto's funny silly guy image is. Kind of Working??? just a little bit.

because. granted. of course i think subaru is easily the most threatening person there with both His Flavor of Insanity and rbd. subaru is an eldritch horror in every single way. but at the same time - hes an eldritch horror who thinks friendship is the best magic of all T^TT !!! he FORGIVES PEOPLE WHO'VE KILLED AND TORTURED HIM. hes not threatening in this sense - the fact that hes kind of just way too nice in this sense!!! granted yes, he IS abusing rbd and Terrifying and Threatening in a multitude of ways, but i'd rather take my chances with mainbaru over main otto right now HAH T^TT at least subaru will apologize and start bawling his eyes out if he stabs some random innocent civilian and stranger in the gut for Some Necessary Reason!! otto would feel a bit bad and then completely Eradicate that feeling of guilt with "i had to do it. it was them or me so no regrets <3".

because otto..................... yeah otto is the Worlds Most Pathetic Yandere to his whole camp.

[hwaightme]

Come fly with me

✈️ pairing: pilot!yunho x gn!journalist!reader ✈️ genre: fluff, love at first sight, bit of angst, slice of life ✈️ summary: Aerophobia - the fear of flying. And clearly, something that your boss has no idea exists. While you curse the universe and the metal bird, your handsome seatmate ponders if it is possible to redirect this flight, from Gwangju, to your heart. ✈️ wordcount: 9.0k ✈️ warnings/tags: language, general cuteness, a lot of hand holding and stealing glances, panic/anxiety, aerophobia, discussion of past trauma, mention of grave injury (side character), you never really know what someone has been through ✈️ a/n: Hello!! Here is a lil one shot bc Yunho is renting out my brain. Thank you so much for your love and support, all reblogs, notes and asks welcome! Much love and big hugs (P.S.: not me reading FAA docs and flight handbooks lol)

The chances of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million.

The odds of a plane crashing are one in one point two million.

Between the years twenty twelve and twenty sixteen, there was only a one in a one point three seven billion chance of dying in a commercial plane crash, and a one in twenty million chance of being on a commercial flight and experiencing a fatal accident.

But there were fatal accidents.

In those same years there were crashes where people died.

And what about those planes that disappeared?

What about the malfunctions?

What if something happens and two planes just fly into one another?

What if the wing breaks off?

What if one of the windows breaks?

What if something happens to the pilot?

What if everything on the plane just malfunctions?

Those odds… still not in my favour.

Damn this work trip.

And damn how packed it is.

Damn this window seat.

Right. By. The. Wing.

Damn that flappy shit on it that looks like something is about to break off.

Why do I have to keep this blind open goddamn it I am having a stressful enough time as is with the plane vibrating like a hungry beast.

Your mind was racing at the speed of light as you cursed your workplace over and over again for sending you on a business trip. On a plane. Of all modes of transport. The mode of transport that had a track record of making you ill, and one time made you faint. Actually, that had been the best flight of your life since you had been conked out for the most of it. No, this was the one mode of transport that seemed to be fine, but just as you would begin forgetting that planes equaled mass destruction, you would check your colleagues’ freshest news reports and once again, crash, burn, genocide.

It was not that you were a scaredy-cat, not by any means. You were a journalist, for fucks sake. You could handle pretty much anything thrown your way. Well, anything except planes. They were not a pseudo-activist who you could expose for not knowing what they were fighting for. They were not an official figure whose corruption you could bring to light. They were not a dog that you could interview for a fun ‘alternative news’ segment. They were a machine made to trap people for set periods of time, can them like sardines, pop their ear drums, and if all went well, regurgitate them on some other metal bird playground, and lie in wait until another bunch gets loaded up for a ride.

But of course, out of all the people in the office, including those who would kill to get out of Seoul and those who were basically known as the nomadic reporters, your boss had to appoint you to go on a three-day trip to Gwangju. The one person who almost exclusively worked in the capital. Who had no experience in working abroad. Hell, the one person who had literally refused to attend a social event because it was held in Busan and the travel plan included flying there. You were the antithesis to such trips, but your boss could not give less of a shit, apparently.

He even had the audacity to praise you in front of your colleagues and say you were ‘just the right person for the interview’ – all when the topic, and the professional background of the individual you were to be meeting, were so far out of your regular scope and within your nightmare space that no amount of reading would make you neither proficient, nor truly appreciative. You were convinced that the universe was out to get you. An alarming interpretation had crossed your mind – perhaps this was your boss wanting to find an excuse to fire you?

A new wave of panic settled in as you made feeble attempts to play a mental game of ‘whack-a-mole’ with your not so friendly musings. Why couldn’t you just exchange the tickets, take the train or a bus, or event drive there yourself? Why did you have to follow orders at your own expense? Just as you were beginning to transition from using familiar curse words to describe the situation to recalling anything and everything you had ever heard either in a foreign drama or in real life, you were gently stirred from the activity by a change in lighting.

You peered to your left – the culprit was a man, broad-shouldered, on the taller side, clad in a stylish sheepskin coat with a white turtleneck and some well-tailored trousers to match. You couldn’t quite see his face fully, but you guessed it would happen sooner than later, seeing as he was in the process of fitting his carry-on into the luggage compartment above where you were sat. Not wanting to intrude any further with your stares, you glanced away, instantly regretting it and exhaling sharply as your eyes were met with the metal wings of doom outside.

An airplanes wings are designed to flex up to ten degrees, and during the average flight the flex can reach up to seven degrees. The wings have been stress-tested time and time again so they cannot break off and the plane will stay balanced and-

But what about the Lockheed L-188 Electra II? What about the Lockheed C-141C Starlifter? Their wings just decided to go on holiday why can’t the wings of a commercial liner do the same? Oh, and the second one had a fuel leak – when do people check that? Did they check for this one? What if something happens and the fuel tank explodes?

“Would you be willing to switch seats by any chance?” a calming voice suddenly interrupted your nervous flow, and you snapped your head in its direction.

That man. Oh no, he was handsome. Dark hair, which was the tiniest bit tousled, kind eyes that you swore glinted at you, and a heart-stopping million-dollar smile. Now you had to keep up appearances too, to not seem like a total wuss, at least for the duration that you had to sit in this can. You heard his question loud and clear, but to allow your mind to process, you asked him to repeat with a quick:

“Sorry?”

He tilted his head and pointed towards the seat closest to him, “Ah, well, technically, this seat is mine, but… would you want to switch?”

Who was this man and why was he reading your ;mind? Was the universe pitying you finally?

“Yes, let’s do that!”

You shot up from your seat, nearly hitting the one in front of you, and slid out to give way to the brave soul who could look out of the window. As you two were settling down and he was giving you his thanks, you were not sure whether your heart was beating fast because of your fear of flying, or because of how you lucked out on your seat mate. Probably both.

It was hard to resist stealing a couple more glances at him while he was checking something on his phone. He had a reassuring aura about him and judging by how well-practiced his motions had been as he was settling in, he appeared to be quite a frequent flyer. He was so relaxed it made you envious. But you had no better way to get back to muting your phobias aside from absent-mindedly fishing out the airplane safety instructions manual from the pocket of the seat in front and reading it with the intensity of a final year student preparing for the KSAT.

You pored over the calls to fasten your seatbelt, to check that there was in fact, a life vest under your seat, to be prepared to pull on some random strings on an air mask if they were to be ‘made available’…

Abandon everything and run ‘in an organised manner’…

No high heels…

Someone probably would try to wear them still, even if we all had to go down that inflatable slide.

Slide down in the Dracula position…

You heard a chuckle to your right, and upon turning a little, you noticed your seatmate studying you, his lips threatening to curl into a grin. He looked you up and down, from the safety manual that you were now gripping a little bit too strongly, and finally locking eyes with you.

“Thought so.” he came to some cryptic conclusion, leaving you perplexed.

“Thought what?” you could not help but give into your curiosity.

“Aerophobia?”

“Is it that obvious?” you groaned and shut the manual to return it to the pocket. You felt as though you turned into a child who wanted to be taken more seriously, with your body refusing to suppress a slight pout. Yes, planes, for all their bird-imitating glory, were never going to be your wingmen. It was hard to ooze attractiveness when you were on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

“Well, there were some signs, but I only noticed them because I was paying attention,” before you could respond to the subtle flirtation, he continued by introducing himself, “I’m Jeong Yunho. Yunho is completely fine though.”

“L/N Y/N. Then Y/N is fine by me too. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. You might just be giving me a run for my money with those deduction skills!” You complimented him, delighted when you could elicit and even brighter smile. This flight was slowly but surely becoming a little bit more enjoyable thanks to the outgoing eye candy in the window seat.

“Are you an investigator, better yet, a special agent out on a mission?” he wiggled his eyebrows, further lightening the mood.

“I doubt I would ever be able to pull Brad Pitt-level stunts and board the plane in an unconventional manner like he did, but the mystery aspect is enticing. I’m a journalist and reporter.”

Something you could only describe as recognition flashed across his face as he clapped his hands together. By now, he had his body turned to the greatest extent possible towards you, his knees nearly touching your thighs. You had to admit, you were worried that a flight attendant would come and scold him, or that this would end up being a hazard during takeoff. But at the same time, the attention was a welcome relief.

“Oh wait! I have seen you before! You mainly cover local news, right? Or at least spanning Seoul Capital Area?”

“Funny to use ‘at least’ there, but yep, that’s me-”

“Your exposé on the fitness center money laundering scheme was amazing, it was like watching an action thriller.”

Well, that fell short. You giggled. Yunho was evidently trying to impress you by praising your work, but mixed things up right at the end. As you were still a junior, the times where you were allowed to as much as breathe in the direction of a live broadcast or even a pre-recording were few and far between. So far, you had only made a couple of appearances, and most definitely not in the crime segments – though you had indeed helped write the script.

“That’s not me. Close enough though. My mentor was the one on the screen.”

The utter confusion on his face spelled disaster for your composure, so you bit the inside of your cheek lightly, eyes sparkling. He covered his face with his hand out of embarrassment, and, once he had regained at least some of his courage, apologized, assuring you that your name did ring a bell and that he had heard it announced.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. I was one of the writers.”

“Score! Otherwise, I really don’t know how I would be apologizing to you aside from buying you a drink.”

“Something tells me that you were a step away from messing up intentionally.”

“I wouldn’t do that on a short-haul.” Yunho was back to being his cheery self, his only distraction from you being the need to turn his phone on to airplane mode.

This action, meaningless on its own, but in context… left a sour taste in your mouth – a reminder that you were still in a tin can with planks glued onto either side, and that it was about to start grumbling and rumbling across to take off. You saw attendants start preparing for the safety announcement, making you retract into your seat and sigh. How you wished you were as carefree as this charming stranger.

“You know a bit about me, since you are so attentive, but I am intrigued as to who you are.” You inquired, trying to take your mind off what it considered to be imminent danger.

“I don’t want to spoil the fun! Give me a little taste of your own deduction skills.” He challenged playfully, though his tone revealed fleeting notes of concern.

You paused. You had already taken him to be a frequent flier, though for what reason was beyond you. You did not have enough experience racing through airports to be able to distinguish between different types of passengers. But what did stand out to you, was that comment about the reportage – the event that had been covered occurred within the Incheon Metropolitan City area, thus was presented through local branches only.

“You are in Incheon pretty frequently, right?”

“Terrifyingly accurate comment, but yes.” He confirmed while nodding. You felt proud of yourself for managing to have at least some of your skillset still intact.

“And what is bringing you to Gwangju? If it is okay to ask, of course.” You resumed your miniature interrogation, rushing as the announcement began to resound across the cabin, and a flight attendant was demonstrating how to put on the life vest, top up the air, where the emergency exits were… a flurry of information streaming right at you.

“Visiting my parents.” Yunho’s calmness had not changed a single bit since he had boarded the plane, and he was answering you in a level, measured out manner.

“Not during a standard holiday?”

“Here’s the hint: my line of work limits annual hours of… redacted for now.”

“That just makes me think you work abroad most of the time!” you exclaimed, recalling the shock you had when you had first entered the workforce and experience the full package of overtime, minimal breaks, and high demands. There was no guarantee that it was not the same in other countries, could even be worse, but as the old saying goes: ‘the grass is always greener on the other side’.

After he shook his head, shattering your theories, you fell quiet. Everyone had settled in their seats, and now information that was sending adrenaline to pump right through your veins was being shared. Even the demonstration of the flashlight on the vest was ominous. Once the routine had been completed, the rumble of the engines grew a little louder, and you were still making no move to return to the conversation, Yunho leaned over and exclaimed in a low voice:

“I’m a pilot. Indeed, am based in Incheon, and being abroad is very much part of the deal so I would say your logic was impeccable.” 

“No wonder you look to be right at home.” You stated, albeit it came across as a little jealous. The air-mobile and your personal panic inducer began to demand more attention as it steered from the airport, leaving a still outstretched landing bridge behind.

“Maybe you are right. I do spend more time in planes than in Gwangju.”

“Sounds like the triangle between me, my apartment, and the office.” You concurred – at least locally the enforce workaholic culture was universal.

With your fingers, you tapped out an abstract rhythmic sequence with your fingers, then moving to feel for the position of the different buttons, side-eyeing them to make sure your seat, nor the electrics were broken. You were tempted to check if the seat could lean back but you were convinced that if you did that the world would collapse. Or at least you would be in trouble. As it turns out you had a flight law enforcement representative right next to you. A good-looking and so far, so sweet, but still.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you crack the Incheon bit?” he detracted you from your near scratching of the synthetic material, and you pressed your hands into your lap to supress their light tremor.

“Ah, you gave it away when you mentioned the news. That was only shown in Incheon.” You curtly responded, your concentration escaping you after you felt the metal bird jolt.

It was crystal clear to Yunho that your phobia was getting the better of you. After not having flown since at least a decade ago, each one of your senses was going into overdrive, screaming catastrophe. Your eyes were slightly widened, breathing becoming more shallow threatening to turn into hyperventilation, and, of course, you not knowing what to do with your hands (or really, yourself) sealed the deal. He needed to help you. Using whatever technique that came to him. And quick.

“Lightheaded?”

“Uh huh…” you could not deny it. That was just how it was. You, alone with your uncontrollable palpitations and a lump in your throat were on the verge of just control alt deleting your consciousness for take-off.

“Uhm… may I… wait, this might be very tactless, and you have every right to tell me to go- …wherever, but may I hold your hand?”

“What?” you snapped out of your thoughts and gaped at Yunho. What strange form of crisis-based moves-making was this? Or was he making fun of you? The engines were becoming almost deafening while you were still struggling to isolate your seatmate’s voice.

Even though he had not shown any signs of malice, you still expected the worst. Always did when it came to discussing travel, since the majority of your interactions often resulted in your conversation partner revealing some aggression-based schadenfreude. They were happy to pity you and diminish all of your other qualities just because you were scared of this one thing. But even though you were actively searching for any form of darkness, you could only find a caring soul, wholly preoccupied with your wellbeing.

“It is so you know that there is someone here with you. Just by feeling. Kind of like a grounding technique?”

“Oh, I would kill to be on the ground right now.” You twisted his words spiralling into dread.

“Sorry, I’d like to live another day, so you’ll have to bear with this. May I?”

Spooked by some noise from outside of the airplane, you did not dare raise your voice and instead resorted to nodding back your confirmation. As soon as you gave the sign, you felt his steady, warm and soothing hand tentatively touch yours, moving it a fraction and intertwining fingers until the palms were pressed together. Yunho gave yours a quick squeeze, as if in mute encouragement.

“This is so embarrassing...” you mumbled, shaking your head.

After the plane had come to a halt before the final turn onto the runway, you felt feverish, and overwhelmingly guilty. You had convinced yourself that you were ruining this wonderful man’s entire flight, by acting like such a child. And on top of this, he was a pilot, so if anyone had the right to consider you ridiculous it would be him.

“If it is the hand holding then I totally understand I can-”

“NO PLEASE THAT HELPS-” you yelped, practically yanking his hand back with yours and returning them to resting between you, “oops I said that too loud didn’t I…” this really was one moment of humiliation after another. Heat rose in your cheeks as you pondered whether it was too late to stop the plane or not.

“You should hear me scream on roller coasters. Now that’s loud.” He countered your insecurity, making you chuckle. You felt Yunho’s thumb brush over the back of your hand – it was not unpleasant. At all. “I must say, you are already doing really well.”

“Funny.”

“No, really.” Now, the engines were really starting up and you gripped Yunho’s hand a little tighter, this led to him making a split-second decision – a final resort. “But how about this. You close your eyes, okay?”

“What are you trying?” you raised an eyebrow, meeting his confident gaze with your own panicked one.

“Just, I know I am a stranger but, trust me for the next couple of minutes, okay?”

“Sure…” you did not have any of the forcefulness and pride left in you, so you quickly agreed and shut your eyes, but that led to you beginning to hyper fixate on the quietest, most insignificant of noises, blowing their impact out of proportion.

“Now, listen to my voice only.” Yunho instructed.

He was alarmingly close, almost right by your ear as he whispered:

“Let me guide you.”

Your heart fluttered, as you tried to push at least some thoughts to the back of your head, in order to focus on Yunho. This surely had to be one of the most original and thrilling ways you had ever been hit on. And terror-promoted-

Oh you had not even recounted the statistics for hijacking and for those types of attacks yet. How foolish of you! How were you going to remain safe if you did not have the likelihood of you perishing because of an air criminal or air pirate in the front of your mind!? You raked your brain for the 'fun facts' you had enjoyed reviewing last night, when Yunho cleared his throat and tapped your intertwined hands with his free one.

“Okay, so, first, let us set the scene. There is this neat thing called the Pilot’s Operating Handbook, which helps the pilot of a given aircraft determine whether it is safe to fly. And they would not do anything until all checks are done."

Where and what was the guarantee of that? You wanted to ask, too aware of the vibrations that were travelling from the floor of the cabin and turning into your jitters. But Yunho sounded so sure of what he was saying... damn it, he was using ethos-based marketing against you. What if he had lied about being a pilot?

"Also, the runway, the wind speed and direction, and a grand bunch of other things are all checked, one by one, to make sure that everything works as expected. You following me so far?” he informed, and paused to check up on you.

Yunho was using the opportunity to study you to the fullest. The little squint as you were fighting against the desire to shoot your eyes open and search for invisible troubles. The slightest hint of a pout etched on your rosy lips, signifying displeasure with your surroundings. He could not control his smile as he was admiring your battle spirit.

It was hard for Yunho to imagine you being as vulnerable as you were with him right now, due to sheer circumstance. Had anything been different, he might not have even had the chance to introduce himself to the beautiful stranger in what originally was the window seat.

“Yes but… what if something does not work?” as much as this experience was exposure therapy, in the moment, you did not give a shit and was sticking to your ways.

“That is not in the job description. And the engineers do a damn good job too. Just like you are now, okay, Y/N?” Yunho scolded softly but finished with more encouragement.

“I am so sorry again-”

“Nothing to be sorry about."

Of course, you would not know just how much you were reminding Yunho of himself in the distant past. How, when he had been a child, he was not able to even stay on airport grounds because of the noise, and the images that would flash in his head. He only hoped that for you it was a 'lighter' phobia, not stemming from true disaster.

"You know how the plane was just turning right now and making some noise?” Yunho cut his rumination short and returned to his miniature lecture.

“Yes.”

“Well, this is the pilot using rudder pedals, kind of like pedals in a car, pedals on a piano... whichever is closer to home for you, to steer the plane. Basically, we must make sure that the nose of the plane is well-aligned with the centre of the runway. And now, release of the brakes…”

Just as he said it, you could pick out a distinct change in the mechanical cacophony. You chuckled - it was like Yunho was conducting the actions of the beast.

“Now, do you hear this rise in sound? This rumble? Quite ominous, isn’t it? But it is just the pilot advancing the throttle gently to take off power, while keeping their feet on the rudder portions of the pedals and their eyes on the super cool engine instruments.”

He almost sounded like a technical kid getting a DIY kit for their birthday. The excitement in Yunho's voice did not falter as he continued to dive into more and more detail. Did you understand any of it? No. Was it more than pleasant to listen to Yunho having the time of his life explaining it? Yes.

“As the speed picks up, there is more pressure on the controls, but more specifically the rudder and elevator. Then we quickly transition to having the plane being flown more than it is taxied and having three axis manoeuvrability. What is really cool about commercial aviation, and pilots like the one flying this plane, is that we are actually able to feel plane controllability and are able to adjust pressures to make take off just right.”

The take-off procedure was being presented to you like a picture book. A straightforward scheme of a few steps, a celebration of a pilot's mastery. You daydreamed of how your seat mate would look like in the famous uniform, doing exactly what he was recounting to you.

“Okay so we are passing this stage now… and here we are approaching lift off. How we call the angle at which the plane takes off the ground is quite funny: the attitude. And after this… we are going to adjust the pitch just a little to make sure we get the best climbing rate.”

Yes, keep on talking this odd terminology that you were not even attempting to get a grasp on anymore. Probably would have been a good idea in light of your interview, but you could barely remain conscious as your inner world was experiencing high magnitude worry-quakes.

“Now, do you feel that? this is the pilot beginning to apply back-elevator pressure, and this is done to lift that little wheel at the front of the plane up. This is the attitude being created, we call it the rotation for lift off. Ah there it is now he is adjusting… adjusting… now the wings are being levelled, and the plane is remaining right on track, aligned with the centreline of the runway.”

Good for the plane. Good for the pilot. Good for Yunho. You just did not want to die. You squeezed Yunho's hand harder and harder, an action on which he did not comment. On the contrary, he resumed the soothing motion with his thumb that he had tried a bit of time ago.

“And now… we keep on going and… we are going steady.”

You eased off the grip, cringing at how forward, how ridiculous you likely seemed. It was hard to open your eyes back up again, so you took it slow. One eye. Then the next. You were still there. In the can. Which was now in the sky. Zooming across it at whatever speed. Yunho was still there. And still holding onto your hand.

Thanks to his guidance, you had not gone into a full-blown panic, nor had you passed out – an achievement really. But as you were regaining your senses, returning to a more neutral mode of worry, your need to show that you were an independent adult and did not require support returned, and you gingerly tried to remove yourself from his hold, as much as you wanted to stay in the same position for the duration of the flight.

Though Yunho allowed you to do so and waved off your numerous apologies. He was of the same mindset – the contact had been near electric, making this one of the more exciting of his flights. He would be lying if he said that the thought of finding an excuse to hold your hand again did not cross his mind. But he was drawn in even more by the contrast between the you from a few minutes ago and you who was boring holes in the seat in front, evidently counting seconds as you were measuring out your breathing. He was in awe of your perseverance, and how brave you had been to even book the tickets. To be in the cabin. To just, be there.

He was perplexed by why you were going to Gwangju by plane if you had a phobia. His own mother, over a decade after the life-changing incident his family had experienced, still had not gotten over it. Sometimes, looking at the racing clouds in the sky had caused her to tear up, and choose to spend the day shut indoors. Such was life. Even though his father was still alive, and had recovered for the most part, the fear of planes, the roar of the engine – a lethal predator, of flying like Icarus, too close to the sun, remained.

Flying was in his family. His grandfather, his father, him… had all committed themselves to the life of a pilot. And his younger brother, too, was in training. The lineage was to continue, despite the close brush with death that had nearly made Yunho’s father one with the world above. Prior to sustaining grave injuries, he had been a test pilot with a stellar reputation, and one successful flight after another. He was known for being able to land planes that had exhibited faults mid-flight, was able to tame high-speed jets that grew unstable, and was a gifted aerobatics master when he could unwind and choose a trusty steed for himself. His father was his role model. Regardless of what had happened.

It had been a freak accident. A miscalculation resulting in a catastrophe. Better yet, the company that had commissioned the testing had managed to keep the accident under wraps, and only after his mother near rioted and escalated the conflict to the local government and threatened to take it to the media, did his family receive compensation and as laughable charity, some physiotherapy courses. Nothing could compensate a broken heart of a person who had been told that they would not be able to do what they lived for anymore, however. Yunho was just a child then. But the fear that had had come to occupy his home was ageless.

It was not easy, living every day not sure whether his own father would be able to walk him to school. Play football with him. Stand together with him for a photo during a family trip. It was not easy on his mother, who had almost totally turned into a carer, splitting herself in pieces to raise two boys, to work, and to be her husband’s strength, both mentally and physically. Her sleepless nights, when Yunho had caught her bawling silently in the kitchen, trying to hide away from the rest of the family, had imprinted themselves in his mind.

The bitterness in his father’s words as he cursed everything related to the event, and the forlorn gazes he sent the awards, the books, the photographs in his office. Although he had been able to walk again, after years of forgetting the feeling, his meaning was only a memory. This was what had shaped Yunho’s initial impression of the world of flying. That it was a place of misery, hurt and false promises. He had vowed then to never, ever step onto a plane. Never once to approach an airport. Never once to give himself up to that dream that he had been born with. His personal ‘fear’ was not quite that. It was more the rage, the sense of injustice – why did it have to be his father? Out of spite he did not want to continue the dynasty.

His mother had been relieved when Yunho had announced at the dinner table that he wanted to be an engineer. And he made a pretty good job of convincing himself that this was what he really wanted. He had even gone to cram school for mathematics and physics and participated in some competitions. Not that he had ever felt purpose or found joy in it. He was just riding the wave of stability. And simultaneously cursing it.

As time for the national exams was fast approaching, and he needed to specify what kind of engineering he was going to do, he had been stumped. How could Yunho pick between a variety of subjects which he had virtually zero interest in, and pursued because of childhood trauma? So, he did what he could only call an act of desperation and approached his father for career advice. Yunho had assumed that the discussion was going to go nowhere. That his father, who had become a consultant and trainer (though permanently grounded), would only dismiss him and say something along the lines of ‘it did not matter anyways, everything could fall apart at any moment’. But surprisingly, he was responsive. Moreover, he had reminisced with Yunho about his early days, ones where he had not been sure what to do.

Then, he had posed Yunho a question: what was it that his heart wanted to pursue? If he were to forget everything, any and all external influence, what would he pick? After much deliberation, he peered at the poster of a Boeing-777 that hung across from him, and merely stated:

“Flying.”

After years of fooling himself. Running away from what his inner self was yearning for. Only this path seemed right. That night, his father and him had made a deal. To not disappoint his mother, and gain some basic understanding of aircraft, he was to pick aero-engineering, and in secret, simultaneously begin flight lessons. His father had activated his network, and once Yunho had gone through that first year, made a smooth transfer to become who he was now. A fully trained commercial airline pilot. True to himself, his dreams and his future.

When his mother had first found out, she was in hysterics. It was as though someone had brought the news to her that her son had passed away. Maybe that would have hurt less – less than the fear for what could happen, the anguish she would be experiencing every time Yunho would lift off. But he had made up his mind. And would indeed rather die than face the prospect of being anything else than a pilot. This was what he was made to do, and it felt right.

On the one hand, the reason why he wanted to help you was because he wanted others to feel the same way he did about flying. It had become his mission to bring comfort to passengers, to inspire future generations of pilots, and to share just how fun it could be. On the other, he had learned the hard way about what phobia and detestation was and could not bear to see you experience it. He had grown far too good at detecting its approach, so much so that he could live through it with you.

Maybe this was a strange way for him to cope and process his own life’s events, but it sure was damn near magical when he saw that he could take away at least a fraction of the weight you carried. After all there was only so much baggage you could bring on board with you.

Yunho’s heart was conflicted. When he had just boarded and got to his row, he had told himself that he lucked out, having an attractive seatmate and one who appeared to be as curious in him as he was in them. And now, he was almost feeling attached to you since he had helped you overcome the take off. It was inexplicable. A little irrational. But he wanted to talk to you. And to keep on holding your hand if you were okay with it.

When you considered yourself to be more or less recovered you sighed in relief. Having Yunho logically talk you through what you had labelled as horror film material had done what you thought was impossible – made you reconsider if planes really were as terrible as you thought. At least the ones where Yunho could be with you and chant plane speak over the screeches and groans of the engines and brakes. You turned your head a little and noticed Yunho watching the Earth transform through the window. He was leaning back and appeared to be deep in his mind palace. You tapped him lightly on his upper arm, which made all his attention come back to you.

“I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for helping me through this, really. You did not have to, Yunho, but you saved me just now.”

“Really, as I said, it is not a problem, Y/N.”

“But still. As you probably can tell, this really is nightmare fuel for me-”

“I am more than happy to continue, just so you know. If you need me, I am right here.” He offered, flustering you.

The sincerity of his words made you dwell on his desire to help. He was nothing short of respectful, but you felt that the story ran much deeper. Perhaps because he knew what it was like. But you were not about to force him into sharing all the potential skeletons and sprinklings of trauma, if anything it would make you appear ungrateful and downright prying. The atmosphere was just right for now, thanks to Yunho.

“You best be worried, because I might just pick you up on that offer, since I have a lot of revision to do before actually doing the job I was sent to do.” You answered, running a hand through your hair. You wondered whether you should use the rest of the flight to actually do some preparation for the interview or… the second option won out immediately, and you were back to enjoying Yunho’s company.

“Ah, so you are on the flight not by your own volition?”

“Yep. My boss is rather creative when it comes to picking out his entertainment.” His chuckle made a dopey grin appear on your face.

“And what do you mean by revision? Will you be joining the ranks?” he realised he barely knew anything about you aside from the odd mix of bare bone basics and auto-completed nonsense, courtesy of his imagination.

“Probably not, still need to sit as a passenger for a long, long time before that, you know, learn by observation!” you joked, attempting to conjure a vision of yourself as a pilot, but the irony of it was too much. “I am going to be doing a mini-documentary and interview with Hwang Taehyuk. He is a recently retired pilot with many accolades and, apparently, a very exciting professional life so-”

“This really keeps on getting better.”

“What keeps on getting better?”

“I had the chance to co-pilot with him a couple of times. Absolutely the most amazing guy on the planet. Total goofball too.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you threw the rhetorical question out into the air, but almost instantly continued, “You know, you are making me glad that I took this flight.”

“Like I said, if you need a plane nerd rundown of what’s going on at any point, just let me know and I can even draw some diagrams for you on a napkin.”

“Not just that, though now you promised me some diagrams and I do want to see them. It’s just, the beauty of how things have aligned. That makes me... quite happy.”

“Seconded.”

For the hour that it took to fly from Seoul to Gwangju, you were in deep discussion with your seatmate, turned acquaintance, turned to something that could not exactly be called a friend – an ‘interest’, rather. It was a process of progressive mutual discovery, stepping beyond first impressions and learning that, in fact, both of you only wanted to know more and more as the minutes and stories flew by.

Feverishly you shared your lives with one another, in a manner not dissimilar to that of someone retelling a missed episode to make sure that from then on, everyone would be moving forward together, at the same pace. You and Yunho explained your dreams, your hopes for the future, whilst inadvertently looking for, and finding similarities in them. You soared through conversation and landed being much closer than either of you could have predicted.

Everything was on the table – from embarrassing stories to going through each other’s camera rolls (under strict supervision, but that was a given). To prove to you that Yunho was truly a pilot and not just a plane nerd, he had shown you some photos of himself in uniform, zooming in to show you that the epaulettes were very much real and that he was earning his stripes. You commended his determination and had even taken an interest in how the career ladder functioned, but really what you could comprehend the best out of that discourse was that he chose the right job even if just for how handsome he looked in the attire. Yunho really was one of a kind, inside and out. He reminded you of a day in early spring, when the days were steadily growing longer, and the winter breeze finally departed, instead letting the budding leaves and blossoming beauties take over and instil a happier sense of tomorrow. He was the one to start to thaw your previously deadest perceptions and blood-curdling associations.

It went without saying that your fear of flying did not go without mention. A dreaded topic for you, you had initially tried to brush it under the table, but it was pointless to do before a person who had just seen you through take off, and for the duration of the flight sometimes paused your dialogue to check in with you. In addition, if he noticed your concentration drifting because of a foreign noise, or because of a little tilt or turn, every time Yunho would explain the reasoning behind it the best he could. Though it would take much longer to get over the phobia, his dedication made you swoon.

You had revealed to him that you had been diagnosed with aerophobia back in early primary school. It was genetic, with your father’s family line showing particularly strong symptoms – so any reunions were either planned with military precision, or simply did not happen, because Jeju Island was not so ‘all modes of transport’ -friendly. Back then, you had no idea how serious your condition could be, seeing as you were minimally exposed, but the times you were had been haunting you since. Your choice of work had not helped with your condition either, since you were constantly exposed to the worst locally, nationally, and globally. Though you had to be an objective messenger and remain unperturbed, aviation-related accidents often left you a whimpering, misty-eyed mess. At least you had become an expert in reading and responding to emails while your vision was blurry.

This was probably the first time ever that you had shared this aspect of you without either being interrupted or misunderstood. With Yunho, he listened carefully, and bewilderingly, drew parallels between your reality and his. It was obvious that he was holding back on some more upsetting facts out of care for how you would react, but you could figure out that his path to becoming a pilot had been on the bumpier side. He did end up drawing some free body diagrams for you and explaining the aerodynamics involved in a flight, lighting up every time you would ask him a question, or even when you would lean in, so your heads were almost touching, brows furrowed and processing.

Yunho had provided you with more anecdotes about the pilot you were going to interview, and even suggested that he could come along to introduce you – apparently the guy liked to keep his circle small and was not one to trust outsiders until they gained his respect. There was something surreal about being on the plane with Yunho – it made you believe that you two would last forever, and that what he was initially proposing, and then downright promising you to do, would really happen. Here was to be hoping that you would not part ways and at least be able to recognise one another in a crowd.

Landing went a little smoother for you than take off, perhaps because you had automatically searched for Yunho, and gingerly placed your hand on his lower arm. Too shy to do the same as before, you had remained in that position, focusing on the fabric of his coat. Meanwhile Yunho was frozen, like a person who had been chosen by a cat as the perfect napping spot. He remained close to your ear, once again whispering through the steps, though seeing your lowered anxiety, allowed himself to veer off the script a little more and crack a couple of jokes.

You left the plane as if you had been companions to begin with, checking if the other had left anything behind, chatting as you made your way across the jet bridge. Unlike the rest of the passengers who had decidedly become track and field athletes as soon as they were hit with airport air conditioning, Yunho and you moved slow, off to the side of the giant glass corridors, just so that time would not pass by you. For the first time, you were grateful that the line for passport control had gotten quite long by the time you reached it – all the more time to sneak glances at one another, kid around, and act like you had known each other forever. When you had reached the front of the line, the border control officer had even mistaken you as a couple and let you through together. Not that you would correct them.

Baggage claims. A time to reminisce, as it turned out. Standing side by side, you recollected each other's musings and theories as though you were revising, flipping through cards and supporting each try at a response with ripples of laughter. This was a plane that neither of you wanted to land, and kept on praying, repeating the same wish like a mantra: may this last.

If only this damn luggage could continue spinning forever, or would just be lost in the metal bird's belly. Somehow, life on the ground appeared to move faster than that high above. The hustle and bustle, people moving to and fro with their identities shoved into flimsy wheeled boxes, kept together by duct tape and overpriced cling film. Everyone had to have a plan. A destination. Up in the air, that could be removed. Troubles minimised for the duration of the flight. The only direction being to a random dot of choice, labelled as a city, town, base, important only because of plans that resume upon landing.

To Yunho, this was the biggest disillusionment he had experienced in his first flight. When he had been a little boy, he believed that everything radically changed after such a journey. That pilots were like wizards. But, as it turned out, he was only serving other people's plans. Just like this time, he was following a specific agenda. But you had made it colourful. Meaningful. The time suspended in mid-air well spent, and in need of a ‘to be continued’. As you made your way closer and closer to the airport exit, after having collected your belongings, he only had one thing on his mind. How could he prolong this metaphorical flight with you?

Without any prior agreement, nor any feat of telepathy, you and Yunho halted. It was time to part. Both you and him knew it, and yet neither of you were making the decisive move to do so. Instead, you chose to dawdle and stand, facing each other in the middle of Arrivals, luggage by your sides.

“Are you... going to be taking a taxi? Or is someone going to meet you?” he broke the silence with some small talk, while his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest – somewhat comical, now it was his turn to be panicked.

“I’ll catch a taxi. Yeah. And yourself?” You asked, not caring for the response, but for the prolongation of time that it brought. You were not looking forward to departing from this bliss between destinations. Back to rushing somewhere. Trying not to lose yourself amidst the events you had to pursue.

“Car rental.” Yunho swore he could hear turbine noise in his head as he was dashing from one idea to the next. Was he about to lose you?

“That’s neat.” You kicked the air with your foot, and stuffed your hands into your pockets, readying yourself for an unwanted goodbye.

You raised your head and faced him. Two people, fumbling for a way to stay like this. Were both of you waiting for some divine intervention? For a third person, a passive observer to suddenly step in and give you a friendly nudge? All the signs were pointing to a sure-fire success, and yet hesitation, doubt and insecurity remained as the devil on both your shoulders. Perhaps this was not meant to be, and you merely served one another as a time passer, a cure for boredom, and eventually destined to bid your farewells. Your lips parted, and you inhaled, about to say the dreaded words, when-

“I can drive you.”

“Huh?”

“If you want.”

He officially short-circuited as he could not wait any longer. Had Yunho been a poet or a writer, hell, maybe even if he had stayed an engineer, he could have come up with something more impressive, but at the end of the day, the message would be the same. Let’s go together. Let’s go anywhere together. Come fly with me.

Now, it was one thing to hope, and a wholly different one to expect, and you sure as hell had not been doing the latter. So, when Yunho took the leap and reached out to you, and to your future self, you needed to take a moment to internally squeal. And then try your best to keep it cool and answer like a proper adult, rather than the inner giddy schoolchild who was on their umpteenth celebratory somersault.

“I would want that. But aren’t your parents waiting for you?” your response was light and breezy, and an attempt to showcase, once again, that you had paid attention to him and could recall why he was here in the first place.

“Well, I mean, I don’t usually do this… but if you are into meeting parents so early…”

“Oh, come on!” you giggled, playfully hitting Yunho’s upper arm as he grinned wide.

“Totally serious, Y/N, I am totally serious.” He responded, sarcasm dripping from his words.

He pointed in the direction of the car rentals and took the small suitcase you had brought with you in his free hand. Ever the gentleman.

“And if you are free at any point, I would love to show you around.” He continued as you ambled on, barely any space between you.

“As long as it is by foot or car, I am free today and tomorrow afternoon.”

“I wish I had the car from Back to The Future so that I could impress you with my piloting skills, alas, I’ll have to disappoint you with… are they advertising new Kia models? Y/N, not all is lost!”

“Now to figure out which one looks most like a Yunho-mobile.”

“We’ll figure it out, take an online test that matches MBTI to a car or something.”

“Don’t tempt me, or I might actually do that.” You warned in jest and proceeded to take out your phone to make a point. This seemed to have an effect on Yunho, as he stopped abruptly and began searching for his own device.

“Oh! That reminds me! Your five-star guarantee Uber driver would like to have your number. You know, for announcing his arrival, of course.” As you typed in your digits, and then proceeded to save his number on your phone after he had texted you a string of airplane emojis you ideated out loud:

“I can already see the review I shall write: car may or may not take off and grow wings during journey. Passenger discretion is advised."

“If that’s the case, I’d be more than happy to hold your hand again, or maybe something more serious to protect against turbulence?” he winked, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“I think I’ll have to write a piece about your methods.”

“Just make sure to mention that they are exclusive to Jeong Yunho, your private pilot,” well that was an original, yet explicit expression of interest, “and speaking of reporting, I am taking you to teacher Hwang’s for some proper networking.”

“Yeah, and what about my crew?”

“Pilots are no strangers to crews, trust me on that.” he answered promptly.

“I can imagine.”

You and Yunho stood still, eyes locked. Your 'spring' ahead of you.

“Now, shall we be off?” he gestured towards the rentals office, but not removing his gaze.

“Go on ahead, be my guide.”

Given half a billion potential soul mates, your chance of finding your true love is one in 10,000.

1 in 50 airplane passengers meet the love of their life on board an aircraft.

And when it came to you and Yunho, the probability was simply 1. 100%. No other way.

Perhaps it was a good thing that you were scared of flying.

[rayshippouuchiha]

I’m the housewife kink anon, but I can’t find the fic!!! No one seems to have a downloaded copy on any of the usually haunts either. Pretty sure the author deleted their account which is a damn shame since they were one of my favs. Not rly surprised tho since they were getting some hate for the pairing when I read it a few yrs ago and I imagine it only got worse. So I’ve decided to outline everything that happened in detail!

So the plot was basically aged up Izuku and yandere Aizawa meet at a pre-raid meeting where some big time hero tries to discount Aizawa’s info and talk over him. But Izuku- Eraserhead has been my obsession since I watched his first sport festival-Midoriya shut that down quick with what was essentially an in depth analysis of how Erasehead is a perfect hero, especially compared to the hero that talked shit.

So yandere Aizawa was obviously like mine and started stalking Izuku who could immediately tell (I think he went abroad to train with All Might after Inko died and then helped dismantle AFO’s base of power internationally thus discovering he was still alive and Izuku ended up killing him w/ All Might) but was honestly just rly turned on by it so allowed it.

At the raid, they ended up in the same section and had impeccable team work the whole time which made both of their internal monologues sound like smug cats. They worked so well together that they kept getting paired up on other raids (all human trafficking rings connected with AFO I think) and eventually Izuku got hurt but wouldn’t tell the medics cuz discrimination trauma and paranoia so Aizawa drags him home to give him stitches.

This is where the domestic fluff and house wife kink kicks in bc Izuku cleans+ bakes+ cooks when he’s bored (which he was since he had to wait for the stitches to heal before he went off to do hero work). So Aizawa, coming back from UA to all this plus Izuku splayed out on the couch like a whole snack smiling up at him saying welcome home, goes fucking feral in his head. And it kinda becomes routine for them and there’s was this one scene where Aizawa wraps his arms around Izuku’s waist as he does dishes and puts his chin on Izuku’s shoulder and strokes over the stitches. I think he was humming a love song Izuku was listening to which was jdjejebdbhsjs.

At this point they both want to jump each other but Izuku is like he’s just being nice to me while Aizawa is like if I allow myself to show how much I want to put a collar on him he’d run so I must be careful. But after the stitches heal Izuku just doesn’t leave bc whenever he half heartedly tries to go back to his apartment something happens where he had to stay (all orchestrated by Aizawa of course). Then Izuku’s like fuck it and just brings all his stuff to Aizawa’s apartment while he’s gone and starts paying half the rent without saying anything. Which Aizawa adores since it obviously means Izuku finally realized that he belongs with him and nowhere else. Let’s just say they didn’t manage to stay off each other for long when Aizawa absently used his scarf to pull Izuku out of his way and called him a good boy.

There was also a concerned all might crew going on at first with a lot of wild misconceptions but it all settled over when All Might met Aizawa in person and was like ah young midoriya, I see you have found one that might be able to handle you. Cuz all might is Izuku’s mentor/hero/father figure, and knew exactly what his successor was about. And this feral looking man he managed to find checks all the boxes Izuku- I destroyed AFO more completely in few years than anyone else managed to do in centuries- Midoriya has.

oh oh god this sounds perfect in every way

Author is you somehow see this then by all the gods please repost because this is magnificent

[wolflyndraws]

Detective AU question (s) 🤩

Does George every purposely make mistakes in the lab? For like attention from Dream or to lead him off?

Does he also forge evidence or makes up connections that are like pulled out of his ass but Dream believes him because blind love 💀

What does Dream do in his free time besides thinking about his case and George?

What does George do in his free time besides plotting?

Wtf are these men's sleep schedules 😭💀

Is there Patches in the AU somehow? (Patches, my beloved 😞)

Does George plot his crimes to lead to dead ends or to frame people? Like real possible criminals? Or is he just doing all of this for shits and giggles and to fuck with Dream?

Is this too many questions?

How do you think your dnf would act if the met the other dnf's from all your AUs. Like a big ass meet up.

Why did Dream want to be a detective in the first place?

Holy fuck GKSJRKA pos

This one’s a long one so I’m gonna try the read more feature GKSJFKA

1. Yes and no he doesn’t make mistakes cause it’s suspicious it’s never his excuse but he tampers with the evidence and sometimes gets rid of em making it look like nothing went wrong but still the evidence doesn’t lead to him. He doesn’t do it for attention that’s the last thing he wants for himself he’s just doing it so that he doesn’t get caught and so that he leads Dream deeper into obsession of the case

2. tampering isn’t random, he makes sure the changed or evidence that’s gone makes sense and doesn’t look like it was tampered with after the case by a third party. It’s important to remember that hes smart like REALLY smart he doesn’t just pull things out of his ass cause hes dealing with a famous detective he makes one mistake and he’s for sure to be caught. Also Dream’s not just going thru a love at first sight blind love, he doesn’t fall in love w George in the start he slowly falls in love through trust and assurance that George gives him while working on the case. The stacked up trust makes him slowly like and eventually love george which is why when it’s all shattered when he figures out that George was just doin all that to make him vulnerable and to manipulate him . it breaks him

3. Not much really he used to be a big fan of the Super Bowl and football but it seems murders keep happening around that time. He suspects the killer’s doing it cause events steal attention so he can kill more low key (he’s wrong btw george just wants to cut all distractions to Dream’s obsession) one thing to remeber w George is he wants Dream’s attention on the case but he doesn’t want attention to himself specifically

4. George has a normal life out of the planning he does his normal stuff mostly just thinks about Dream and making sure he doesn’t leave any big hints but he can live a life more than dream who’s just obsessed

5. Normal human sleep schedule maybe sleeps a little late. Sometimes Dream doesn’t sleep for a few days when the case doesn’t let him sleep and it bugs him. He sometimes wakes in the middle of the night cause he thinks of something to jot down on his notes also they might sleep a little late if they decide to spend time together…

6. Contemplating if I want to add Patches from the start or dream getting patches as a therapy cat after the George killer reveal and they separate for a little

7. Usually dead ends. he doesn’t want to frame anyone cause that means the game would end his goal at first was just to make sure he doesn’t get caught but after seeing Dream’s obsession to the case when he started tampering w evidence he was like I’m smart I could maybe do a little more. But in the end he wants to make this an unsolved case forever to haunt Dream til he dies

8. No! The more the better I love yapping about my aus

9. George wouldn’t care about other dreams maybe he’d think it’s interesting how Dream acts in other aus but in the end he only cares about his own. Dream would just kinda act like normal dream but a little more collective he’d be like woah what I’m partners with George in other universes too?? Maybe that would make him believe they’re meant to be poor poor man

10. Havent fully made a backstory that I’m satisfied with yet I’ll reveal it along side with George’s first murder when I figure it out!

Thanks sm for the questions!! It was a blast answering them!!!!

[kerubimcrepin]

The Card Games Overview - Part 1

"I would have wanted to be Joriiiiiiis, to be able to do my shoooow!" - The Hypermage's Blues

Joris, as discreet as he is efficient, is the emissary of the king of Bonta.

Already we're starting strong with the first card here, because, and you will never believe this, — the implications for lore this has are huge.

It is a parody of this song, "Le blues du Businessman", which implies that: (and I beg you to forgive me for taking this silly little song reference so seriously. I am neurodivergent about this. It gives me pleasure to overanalyse things)

Within the World of Twelve, this song is about being a huppermage, and the pain that comes with it. (They are called here "hypermages", because this was their name in 2009-2010, when their lore was still being developed).

Someone in the huppermage class community has formed a parasocial relationship with Joris?? Imagine namedropping princess Diana in your depression song.

It makes me wonder what other famous huppermages' names could be used in the World of Twelve version of this song. "I would have wanted to be Juliiiith, so I could shout who I am!!" or something??? Would Bakara be name-dropped (actually, she probably would... she does have a parasocial fan in Dofus MMO, despite probably having been dead of old age for centuries)? Does this song make Joris cringe so much he almost dies?

This seems very rebellious, considering huppermages have what seems to be a very... conservative, rigid in-culture, that is against outside influences, and somewhat in favour of in-group hazing, (Wakfu quests — professors' reactions to students being attacked within the huppermage temple amounting to "you'll get over it." + what I've heard about institutionalized huppermage on huppermage violence that happens in Julith et Jahash comic.)

The other thing that makes it seem rebellious is the fact that Joris probably isn't welcome among his own people, with his independent personality, relation to Julith (this one is a mixed reason: during his youth, she was hated, — but as of Dofus MMO times, she was seemingly a figure that was revered just as strongly as Jahash, among huppermages), and affinity for other classes' (ecaflips) cultures and beliefs.

Another lyric that includes the word "artist", "I would have wanted to be an artist, to have the world to remake, to be able to be an anarchist, and live like a millionaire" makes me insane in this context. This fits him so well because this fucker doesn't give a shit about huppermage rules (he hits people with a log to give them concussions instead of using magic), and lives like a millionaire (smokes expensive blunts while drinking Chateau Lafite Rothschild in his nasty room filled with plushies and cartoon figurines).

These are the only two crepinlore adjacent cards in the Wakfu TCG, so, we will move onto Krosmaster:

You can't just tell me that, by ecaflip standards, Atcham is considered disabled and expect me to be normal about it. This confirms a lot of what I already thought: Atcham feels scorned for a multitude of reasons:

People think he's bad looking, he can't have a romantic relationship (if he didn't have Kerubim to blame for everything, god knows he would have become an incel. And I don't mean that as a joke. I mean it in the "blaming people being awful to you bc of your looks/neurodivergency/social skills — on other, random people, because the pain of being unable to change your situation is too much" way. He already does that. In canon.)

His lack of fur actually causes issues with his health. (we didn't need a card to tell that, but feels good to have it acknowledged. Just google how vulnerable sphynx cats are to temperatures. I feel bad for him.)

He feels... "uncute". Catboy body dysmorphia is both real, and fucking depressing.

There isn't any lore here, but I want to acknowledge something: Isn't it weird that he never wears pants as an old man, except in his first 2 official arts in Krosmaster? Isn't it whacky that he speaks in one episode as if he does wear pants? I am haunted by this, folks.

His dice have a wrong design on the first art here. Sorry for noticing insane things like that.

I have so many thoughts, and none of them coherent.

The scales, the fangs, Atcham's sword, the fact that it's called "draconian crisis"... I am in loves. Also "strange little boy" is on par with other things Joris gets called in canon. Like "funny little man" and "weirdly endearing for a curtain twitcher".

An error I noticed: he isn't wearing the tights/stockings he wears in Aux Tresors de Kerubim. I can see that because they coloured his knees the same colour as his shoulders/hands.

(Yes, yet another insane "I had watched Dofus Aux Tresors for 83492734 times" detail only I would ever notice.)

He is so, so,,...

A discussion with a friend made me want to present to you the next scenario: imagine Joris, being offered to play boufbowl as an adult. He would say "No, I shan't, I really shan't", before defeating everyone in record time. Just because he's smug like that, and loves to show off how cool and awesome he is, but in a subtle, quiet way. Athletes unironically hate him.

He should listen to Speedfreaks FM while running around.

Big news for Joris Pain enjoyers: Grougalorasalar can inflict nightmares upon people. And personally, I want him to have done this to Joris. Repeatedly.

I have a lot of emotions about her...

I wish more people took her alcoholism as more than a joke. I think it's fucking depressing that she's around 20yo, already an alcoholic, doing the whole huppermage thing just because of her brother, and the pressure of other people, and the only other stress relief she has besides alcoholism, is Violence. Jesus fucking christ.

I will probably write many more words on this topic, when we get to the movie, or to a particular comic, — but that will have to wait.

[fallenclan]

Sorry I'm normal and perk up like a cat hearing a bird at any mention of Sunwish. (NOTE - need to think about 🧶 anon's ask some more rotate it in my head but i do concur largely and also am a little insane about it. Holding hands and skipping and singing tralala together as Sun & Scorch apologists respectively & wielder of them all)

IN FOCUS THOUGH. Ohh... I have to wonder about Sun and Morning's relationship. Sun wasn't amongst those openly mourning Morning, to my memory, but I have to think. I have to wonder. Morningbloom was strict and a good kitsitter; Sunwish was righteous and a good listener. Morningbloom was 19 moons when Sunwish was 12 moons - feasibly someone Sun would've looked up to, as an older warrior apprentice then warrior. Morningbloom was the first cat - the only cat, according to my notes - to die directly under Sunwish's paws as the clan's sole medic. (Nettlestem was found dead, I believe? Mauled on a walk.) (Though you COULD speculate she might've been found alive for drama, if you want - probably a case of Sun being in the wrong place, not having the right herbs, or just not being able to repair that kind of damage. Either way, she mourns her.) I have to wonder.

Did Sunwish aspire to be like Morningbloom, of who we saw little, but seemed a respectable warrior? Did Morningbloom appreciate Sunwish's company while she was in the medicine den with a broken spine; did she think her hard-headed righteousness was cute? Did Sunwish appreciate Morningbloom's, prickly* though she could be? For some reason Morning gives me the vibe of someone who's just nice company in general, good to sit with. Heart-rendingly, I can't help but wonder - if Morningbloom was a good kitsitter, Sunwish a good listener, did she tell her about the little cats she'd looked out for before** in those nights she was stuck on bedrest? Reminiscing, maybe laughing off some of Sunwish's dread at the prospect of having to see to some arrive safely someday as the clan's medic, smiling around some casual reassurance. Did Sunwish believe it? Did Morningbloom?

Did she still, as she laid dying under her paws?

[1/2] (- 🐈‍⬛)

THIS IS MAKING ME SO UNWELL WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN WTFFFFFFFFF

just. first of all. the final painful edition fucking FLOORED me. i literally stopped and put my head in my hands physically what the FUUUUCK thats so fucked up wtf. holy shit and that just makes me wonder if Oaktuft ever knew that Scorchstar was the one that killed Sunwish. and if they would have felt guilty about it. AUGH???

Morningbloom and Sunwish. oh fuuuck they are making me feel ILL. because i can look back at my drawings fairly easily i can tell you that Sunwish was NOT one of the cats to mourn Morningbloom but i am completely disregarding this bc like. could you fucking imagine. Morningbloom spent all those moons in the medicine den healing her broken spine. they HAD to have talked a bit, maybe even been friends? a little? and yeah Morningbloom grew a little crush on her but WHAT IF. Sunwish finally let slip how much she hated being a medicine cat. and Morningbloom promised once she got better she would teach Sunwish some battle moves or hunting moves. and maybe she DID. maybe the two of them in their spare time went out on faux patrols like Sunwish was a real warrior. maybe Morningbloom was the one to cheer when Sunwish caught her first prey. do you think that Sunwish would have finally grown some hope about her situation, and dreamed that one day she might be a warrior? do you think that when Morningbloom died, her hopes did too?

another thing you're right about is Morningbloom fr has haunted the narrative SO much. arguably more than any other clan founder??? i mean. Scorchstar, Nettlestem, Oaktuft, they were all old and relatively fulfilled when they died. Wildfang didn't really have time to leave an impact on the clan. Sunwish is obviously another story but MORNINGBLOOM. even though she died on only like moon 25 you can FEEL her impact through the story. she's haunting it. imagine how Sunwish felt. even if there WAS nothing she could do, i bet thats not what she told herself. hell, I bet that's not even what Scorchstar told her. even if Morningbloom's ghost didn't really haunt her. maybe all the sleepless nights... idk. i have thoughts.

but FUCK when Sunwish died????? and Morningbloom is like. There. yknow. the physical manifestation of your failure at the one duty you were permitted to do. the only path you were allowed to follow. the death on your paws. standing right in front of you and smiling???? unreal. i bet the first words out of Morning's mouth were assurances that it wasn't Sunwish's fault, it was never Sunwish's fault.

do you think they spend their free time in Starclan practicing hunting moves?

[jedi-enthusiast]

My Thoughts on Episode 2

I have now moved into my dorm and gotten more used to college life, so here is the post about Ahsoka episode 2 as promised---keep in mind, though, just like episode one these are just my thoughts upon first watching it. They may change or I may go into further detail on them in the future.

----------

Once again, the scenes just feel...so utterly hollow and flat.

There's no emotion exchanged when Sabine and Ahsoka talk---neither Ahsoka nor Sabine ever actually seem worried- (whether it's about Sabine or the map) -nor do they ever seem stubborn, defensive, irritated/angry, or anything else that you would expect.

Again, it's all just hollow.

----------

I'm gonna be honest, the villains are the singular interesting part of this show for me right now.

----------

LOTH CAT!!!

----------

So, even though other people have literally died by getting a lightsaber to the gut, Sabine is perfectly fine to be sitting up and working on a droid and moving around like...a day or so afterwards?

The fuck?

Even if her surviving is possible- (since other people have pointed out that it is, when taking other things into account) -she shouldn’t be all fine and dandy and moving around! That shit should hurt!

----------

Also, I've seen so many people point to Ahsoka telling Sabine- "no, you've done enough." -when Sabine says she can help as this badass line and saying- "yes, let Ahsoka be angry!" -but, ignoring the fact that there was no emotion whatsoever when she said that...

...how is it badass or "sticking it to Sabine" when she literally goes back to Sabine for the help she offered like an hour later?

----------

Again, Sabine should not be moving like that after getting stabbed with a lightsaber.

----------

"Yes, let's put this whole hospital full of people in danger because we can't be bothered to relocate, because of a timeline that we have not been very clear about---a timeline that may or may not have consequences, because we also haven't been very clear about why the timeline is the way it is or what will happen if it's not followed."

Wow, this show is just...really trying to make me not like or root for these characters at all.

I'm just...wow.

----------

I've said it once and I'll say it again, the villains are the only interesting part of this show right now.

Also, I fucking loved Baylan mentioning Jedi younglings and that little snippet of Jedi culture---the fairytales they were taught.

Although I do think it's fucking nuts that the Darksider, the villains, are giving us more insight into Jedi culture than the actual fucking "Jedi" of the show.

----------

CHOPPER!!!

----------

Someone else explained it better in another post- (I'll reblog and add it here once I actually find it again) -but the guy that's playing the "businessman who's only loyal to his investors- (aka he does things for greed)" -is an actor, who I think is Jewish if I'm remembering correctly, who is known for playing pretty much only Jewish characters...

...I don't think I need to explain how making his character one who does things only for greed is antisemitic.

----------

Again with the Sabine as a Jedi thing???

Non-Force-sensitives can't become Jedi---being a Jedi is being apart of a culture that is specifically centered around Force sensitivity!!!

And Sabine already has a culture, she's Mandalorian for fuck's sake!

Just-

I'm sorry, this whole fucking thing pisses me off---she better turn out to be Force-sensitive and Dave is just retconning that, because otherwise I'm going to lose my goddamn mind.

----------

"I heard your repairs were complete."

Except they shouldn't be because she literally got stabbed with a fucking lightsaber, it should take longer than just about a day to heal---with or without a bacta tank.

----------

I swear to fucking god-

Not this bullshit again.

Please, please, I'm begging, just retcon Sabine to be a little bit Force-sensitive and don't pull some "non-Force-sensitive Jedi can be a thing" bullshit. Please-

----------

"I'm a general, nothing's classified to me."

That's not how that works.

----------

CHOPPER AGAIN!!!

----------

I love Chopper so much istg, I'm at least glad my favorite homicidal droid is back in action <3

----------

LOTH CAT AGAIN!!!

----------

Ok, this scene is reminding me of it specifically, but why hasn't Sabine been wearing her armor? We literally never see her without it in Rebels and being Mandalorian is a huge facet of her identity, why has she not been wearing it?

Once again, I assume this'll be explained later, so I'm trying to hold back my judgement, but if it's not explained later then...honestly it's just confusing.

----------

Wow, so not only was the Jewish actor cast to play someone whose motivation is greed, but they also made him a bad guy...just...wow.

----------

*long sigh at Ahsoka calling Sabine "padawan"*

----------

Oh hey, the big evil bad guy station kinda fucks ngl

----------

I'm gonna be honest, Baylan---again, the bad guy---honestly shows more emotion at there being "so few Jedi left" than Ahsoka---who's supposed to be the good guy, and who's apparently just decided to take up the Jedi mantle again---does.

Also, isn't this show set before the Sequels?

So how are there "so few Jedi left" if Luke is building a new Order that's apparently successful enough to have Order 66 2.0 in the Sequels?