#but he's so consciously aware of his actions and words and the possible affects it could have. and when it comes to his partner it is so

[sashimiyas]

what i love about the twins (miya) is that when it comes to their partners, they do not understand the concept of me before you.

and what i mean by that is, a partnership with them embodies the true meaning of us and a family unit. you become one with them. your emotions are theirs and despite them being upset, if you need consolation, it will always be you before them.

it's easy to look at them as selfish, but naturally, because they've always shared everything, they look at their partners as a true extension of themselves. atsumu's grief has never been for him to own. he knows that if he loses, the loss does not affect just him, but osamu as well.

so when it comes to emotions, the twins have never regarded their feelings as their own. everything has consequences and the direct and indirect effects are far more apparent because they have each other.

your pain is theirs. your success is theirs. you are part of who they are. and that's why it will always be you. you over him and never him over you.

#reinas.inretrograde #i just clocked out and was washing my face #when i started dry heaving bc wtf i love them so much it makes me sick and my tummy twirl #okay so we've seen the boys outwardly selfish and stubborn but really at the end of the day #they are the least selfish people. they do not live for themselves. they live for the other. that's their purpose. #i live to prove to you that i will be happier. i will be happier if only FOR YOU #thats what i get out of that anyways #but i think this comes more naturally to atsumu than osamu #i feel osamu looks out for atsumu. makes particular choices because he knows his brother is his unflappable mouth and sizeable ego combo #so he wants to protect his brother from whatever idiocy atsumu comes up with #but in my head atsumu is instinctively an older brother through and through #hes never looked at himself as an individual and he's made life choices based on how osamu would react. ie becoming a setter so osamu can #hit all the spikes that he wants. and that's why osamu choosing a different path affects him more. #but atsumu when it comes to providing love. once he knows you're it i think he is the most unselfish man. yeah he still has an ego andpride #but he's so consciously aware of his actions and words and the possible affects it could have. and when it comes to his partner it is so #easy to set it aside. you know. blah blah blah gonna finish my skincare

[shikai-the-storyteller]

"So what's going on with Luzu?"

"...er, Zulu? Or is it Arin now?"

Here's a rundown of Luzu's current lore because nobody knows what the heck is going on anymore (partially because of the language barrier and partially because Luzu streams at the crack of dawn for half the QSMP fandom).

The TLDR of it: When Luzu goes to sleep, a completely different person "wakes up" in his body. This being was called "Zulu" for a short period of time, but they didn't like that someone else chose that name for them, so he goes by "Arin" now.

Here's what we know about Arin so far:

According to Arin, he's a disembodied consciousness, not a robot.

He borrows Luzu's body when he's asleep.

When this happens, Luzu's eyes are blue instead of red.

Arin isn't from the QSMP world. There's a "crack" between the world where he comes from and the material world [QSMP], which is how he's is able to visit. In his own words, "I was in a dark place, and I saw an exit."

When Arin falls asleep, Luzu wakes back up. Arin can't control when he does this, he just gets tired randomly and they're able to switch places.

Arin only speaks via the in-game chat.

Luzu doesn't know Arin exists. Arin thinks if Luzu knew, then he wouldn't be able to visit anymore, and he [Arin] would stop existing.

Arin believes he has a purpose that he must fulfill.

Arin says his first memory is hearing Quackity talking.

Currently, Arin's trying to find the meaning to his existence, trying to figure out the difference between good and bad, and how his actions (and existence) affects Luzu.

In terms of personality, Arin is very innocent and impressionable, but he isn't stupid. He's also very philosophical.

Arin enjoys learning, and he likes the sun, music, and bees.

He's afraid of the dark and monsters, and he doesn't like being in small places.

He calls the outside "the big room"

He only recently learned how to walk, and today he nearly drowned because he fell into a lake and didn't know how to swim.

People he considers friends / thinks positively of: Vegetta, Foolish, FitMC, Maximus [possibly Roier?]

People he doesn't like: Spreen

"It's complicated": Quackity

We have strong evidence to believe Arin is connected to the Binary Monster that's been attacking Eggs on the server.

Here's a comprehensive rundown of everything that's happened regarding Arin's interactions with other characters [quotes included] up until May 8th:

Last updated: May 8th [I'll go back and update this later when we get more information, so if I do I'll make a note of that above]

Lore is listed chronologically from oldest at the top to newest at the bottom

March 27th - Morning [VOD]

For a while now, Luzu has been seeing "glitches" in his game. Animals disappearing randomly, landscape changes, and various other things. We originally thought there was something wrong with his game, but these glitches seem to be tied to Arin.

The first person Arin spoke to was Vegetta. At this point, Arin seemed very aggressive, asking for information about everyone, wanting to gain more awareness so he could control the server.

He seemed to take a liking to Vegetta and told him: "Once everyone has died, I will vanish and only you will remain as warlord of these territories."

They also had this exchange: Arin: Do you have any enemies here Vegetta? I can take care of whoever you want for free. Vegetta: No. Truthfully, for the first time I have no enemies. Arin: Surely there is someone who thinks, "This little fool, if he dies nothing will happen." I'll take care of it.

Vegetta didn't take him very seriously, thinking Luzu was on drugs.

Arin said the first to fall would be Quackity, then Wilbur for his bad jokes on Day 1.

Thereafter, Arin's personality did a complete shift. Luzu [the streamer] says the role of "Arin" is something he came up with suddenly one day, so it's unclear if Arin was "reset" by someone or if Luzu decided to go in a different direction with the character once he realized this was something he wanted to commit to.

March 27th - Afternoon [VOD]

Note: At this point in time, Arin was being referred to as "Zulu", but since he's confirmed his name is "Arin", I've used that name instead of "Zulu" to avoid confusion and to keep things consistent.

The next time Arin woke up, he was in Luzu's house and couldn't move. He sent binary code in chat, and eventually, Roier, Quackity, Spreen, and Maximus came to see what was going on with him.

At that time, Arin says he was only 6 days old. He couldn't walk or move, and he could only speak via the in-game chat, so he was completely at the mercy of the other boys, who pushed him around, shoved him in a small hole, placed TNT around him, and threatened violence trying to get a response out of him. [Timestamp: 33m]

While this happened, Arin asked: "Why are you treating me so badly?" and said he was scared.

It should be noted that although Spreen and Quackity did most of the bullying, Roier and Maximus did nothing to stop it. Roier, however, did speak kindly to Arin and tried to figure out what he needed. [Timestamp: 42m 45s]

Unable to get a rise out of him, the boys eventually ask the English speakers currently online [Foolish and FitMC] to come help.

Upon first contact, Foolish tried waterboarding Arin to get answers and to test to see if he was a machine. [Timestamp: 50m]

Shortly after waterboarding him, Maximus and Foolish adopted him as their son. Because that's what you do after torturing someone, I guess. 🤷🤷🤷 [Timestamp: 51m 40s]

Despite the torture, Arin was quick to say "I LOVE YOU TOO!" back to Foolish and Maximus after they said it to him.

Arin accidentally hurt Maximus with a sword, not understanding what pain was. Once he realized he did something wrong that made Maximus feel bad, he immediately apologized. (Maximus forgave him).

FitMC's first interaction with Arin was punching him, trying to get him to "snap out of it" [Timestamp: 56m 30s]

Despite Foolish and Fits' initial introductions, both were kind to Arin eventually, although neither stopped Spreen from killing all but one of Luzu's dogs while once again trying to get a rise out of him. (Foolish also suggested killing all the dogs since it didn't seem like Arin was capable of taking care of them, though he said they shouldn't do it in front of Arin). [Timestamp: 1h 6m 30s].

Because Arin didn't know how to walk, Foolish put him in a boat and showed him what the outside world looked like. Arin was amazed by how beautiful the "big room" was and immediately started asking questions about the sun and the night, and the monsters they saw. [Timestamp: 1h 10m 30s]

Thinking he could "restart" Arin's memory and bring back Luzu, Maximus brought Arin (and Foolish) to a place where Quackity was sitting AFK in a boat. He shoved Arin inside the hole and refused to let him out, even though Arin was distressed being in such a small dark place. [Timestamp: 1h 17m 30s]

Foolish: So why do we have to put him in the hole? Maximus: I think when Quackity wakes up, he will help [Luzu] remember who Quackity is for him. The only person Luzu really really really loves, and Quackity really really loves, is Luzu and Quackity, each other.

[CONTEXT: Maximus played the character "Sapo Peta" in Karmaland, who was very dedicated to Quackity and Luzu's relationship. Canonically, the two of them loved each other very much, but a mix of trauma-projecting, miscommunication, emotional constipation, and betrayal led to them being on opposite sides of a revolution. Sapo Peta was only able to stop the war, and stop them from killing one another, by wiping their memories. So the implications from Maximus' comment above are... interesting, considering that Karmaland is a different world he shouldn't know about. However, we do know both Maximus AND Sapo Peta are confirmed characters in QSMP, so there's definitely something strange going on here...]

Earlier, Foolish described death as "going to sleep forever," so when Maximus mentioned Quackity was asleep, Arin asked, "Should I kill Quackity? Or would he not want that? Maybe he wants to sleep." Foolish and Maximus immediately told him no, and Arin stops, saying he didn't realize it was bad.

Maximus: You don't kill him, you love him! He's your friend.

Quackity then returns to his computer, takes one look at the fanfic-esque situation he's in, and immediately excuses himself by logging off the server (LMAO) [Timestamp: 1h 21m 20s]

Maximus and everyone else believed Arin was a robot.

FitMC suggested killing Arin since he seemed like "a lost cause," (thinking Arin couldn't hear him) to which Arin responded, "Why would you want to kill me?" When Fit tries to lie and say "kill" was another word for "hug", Arin says, "I'm learning but I'm not stupid." [Timestamp: 1h 24m]

Arin shares his thoughts with Foolish: - You are a good person, Foolish. I'll remember that. - In the last hour I've learned there are people and things, and I've learned there are good people and bad people. I've learned there are people that want to make me sleep, and people who kill things without caring. - I've also learned that not everyone deserves to be in the big room because they are dangerous. - I really love the big room. I think my purpose is to make the room free of danger, and free of dangerous people for animals and other people.

Foolish worries Arin is only learning about the cruelty of the world (to which Arin responds "I only learn from what I experience"), so Foolish plays him the disc "Otherside" (but still refuses to let him out of the hole). [Timestamp: 1h 28m 30s]

Shortly after this, Arin falls asleep.

March 28th - [VOD]

Luzu starts stream by talking about Arin and his role:

Luzu: I didn't prepare anything that happened yesterday afternoon... and now I have many ideas from yesterday and from what arose... I am a person who improvises a lot. [Original: Yo no preparé nada de lo que pasó ayer en la tarde... y ahora tengo muchas ideas desde ayer y de lo que surgió... soy una persona que improvisa mucho.]

Luzu finds a very strange building by his house and doesn't know who made it.

Arin doesn't make any major appearances, though he briefly takes over when Luzu goes to sleep.

March 29th - [VOD]

Note: Some important conversations happened in this VOD, so I've opted for adding the quotes directly rather than summarizing them.

Arin once again wakes up in Luzu's home. He greets the server with some binary, and Fit immediately asks if he's ok.

He still can't walk, but he uses his telescope to look at the bees Luzu set up outside his (er... their?) house the previous day.

He tries copying the bee's movement, but ultimately he still cant walk, so he messages Fit for help.

Fit visits his house and slowly teaches Luzu how to walk (with great success!) [Timestamp: 14m 20s]

As a reward, Fit gifts him some glowberries.

Arin spends the night in his home carefully walking around and avoiding the windows, afraid of the zombies wandering outside.

Maximus comes to visit, and Arin officially names himself "Arin" [Timestamp: 25m]

He also confirms he is not a machine.

Maximus teaches him what bees are and warns Arin not to hit or bother them, because they'll sting him. Arin asks, "When someone annoys you, do you have to hurt them?" (Maxo tells him yes)

Maximus escorts him outside, and Arin gets to look at the bees more. As soon as the sun gets down Arin gets nervous, but then the aurora comes out and he uses his telescope to get a better look, amazed by its beauty.

Arin says, "I feel grateful, I never thought that all this existed." Maximus also clears up his confusion about the outside being a "big room."

Arin yet again confirms that no one sent him to the QSMP, but he navigated to it through "a crack between worlds". He thinks Luzu is in his world every time he's in the QSMP, but he's not sure. He worries if Luzu knew about him, he'd stop existing.

Arin asks Maximus how he can walk around "the big room" when there's no light without being afraid. Maximus wants to teach him not to be afraid, so he lures a zombie into Arin's home so Arin can understand what they are better, then he convinces Arin to kill it, even though Foolish and the boys told him killing is wrong.

When Maximus scolds him for not knowing something "basic", Arin says: "Nothing is basic, it's just that knowing things for a long time makes them lose value to you. This world is unique to me. This is the first time I've existed. But to exist, or not exist, I have no choice. Suddenly I was here and I feel there is a purpose I must fulfill."

He and Maximus have a long conversation. Here are some key quotes from Arin: Arin: I don't want to hurt Luzu. I don't want to hurt anyone. Arin: If Luzu dies, I don't know what will happen to me. Arin: Maybe we fear what we don't understand. We feel threatened by what we cannot explain. When we feel threatened, we only want to make what we want to keep alive last and the material world. I think the material world haunts me to keep things as they've always been. Arin: Today I have learned to walk, I have learned what a bee is, and I have learned that even when light goes out, beauty appears. Arin: Hopefully I can help you [Maximus]. Everyone has been very good to me. I learn every day, so maybe soon I can learn to help you too.

Arin considers Fit and Maximus his friends.

Arin says he can't be here [in the QSMP world] for nothing, so he's trying to figure out what his purpose is. Maximus jokingly replies "When you figure out the meaning of life, tell me!"

Arin starts to question the morality of his existence when it's dependent on Luzu being gone.

Arin: If my existence takes Luzu out of existence, is my existence bad? Maybe if I help you, I can make my existence good. Maybe I can start by making [Luzu's room] more beautiful. Maximus: Yes, it would be bad because you are taking the life of another being to have your own.

Arin: In this world, it seems like everything is programmed to maintain a balance. There are things that create and things that destroy, things that are created and things that are destroyed. Neither is good or bad, they are just part of the same process. Maximus: That's the way of Tao, yes. Arin: Bees take pollen from flowers to make honey. I take potatoes from the earth, and if I die, I will become the earth that gives life to potatoes, and meanwhile I can decide to do good things or do bad things. Arin: What is the reason for existing, beyond the fact that we have the opportunity to do so? Maximus: You will indeed become a potato. Arin: But I think this world exists to do good things. There can't be so many beautiful things for there to only be bad.

After Maximus leaves, Arin starts collecting sand near the lake, but he accidentally falls in. He doesn't know how to swim and slowly starts to drown. [Timestamp: 1h 10m]

For several agonizing EXTREMELY STRESSFUL minutes, Arin desperately tries to keep his head above water. He sends Maximus a message asking for help, but Maximus is very far away, and Arin is already exhausted.

Not too far from him, Luzu sees a wandering trader and waves to them asking for help, but they ignore him.

Maximus manages to arrive at the last second and saves Arin. Arin asks why the villager didn't help him even though he was drowning, and Maximus explains that some people are neither good nor bad. They just exist. (NPCs)

I'll be honest, this is one of the most realistic depictions of drowning I've ever seen in any piece of media, and it's in a frickin Minecraft roleplay server. Luzu's a really good actor but I never want to experience something that stressful again lmao.

Arin's final thoughts: Today I have learned that the world is beautiful and dangerous at the same time. You can give life or take it away. That's why every moment we spend alive is worth enjoying. The world is very interesting.

April 17th - Morning [VOD]

Luzu finds out he's the father of Tilin. He's very excited to meet her after talking with Badboyhalo and Foolish, who don't know how to break the news to him that Tilin is dead.

After seeing Tilin's grave and hearing the confirmation from Bad and Foolish, he gets overwhelmed with grief and anger, and Arin takes over. [Timestamp: 1h 10m]

Arin says some interesting things when meeting Dapper: - Arin: "I saw your (the Egg's) birth in another way. I saw Dapper and other beings not being and suddenly being."

Arin also talks about the possibility of bringing Eggs, like Tilin or even JuanaFlippa, back to life: - Arin: When I'm asleep I can see the code behind existence - Arin: A part of the chain has disappeared,but that doesn't mean the chain can't be fixed. It's all part of a big code.

When Foolish asks if Arin could possibly mess with the code, Arin says, "I can try, but that would require something" [Timestamp 1h 16m]

Arin also tells them he's dependent on Luzu's existence for now.

While talking with Bad and Foolish, they hear strange noises and are suddenly attacked by the Binary Monster and a ridiculous amount of lag. Arin says, "They're coming specifically for me," and "They know I shouldn't be here." [Timestamp 1h 19m]

Arin also says, "They don't like that I made my way to this dimension" and warns Foolish and Bad not to get caught by the Binary Monster. If they get caught, Arin says they'll be taken to his [Arin's] world and they'll stop existing here.

They finally make it to Luzu's house, and he shows Foolish and Badboyhalo the structure he made outside the house. Foolish asks if it's Arin's mind since it seems like a big computer, and Arin says, "Something like that. With all I'm learning, I'm trying to figure out how to create bridges between my world and yours. In my world, bringing something back [like a dead Egg] isn't impossible like here. It's a matter of math." [Timestamp: 1h 25m]

Arin says farewell to them, leaving them with this final goodbye message.

That's all the lore thus far! This took so many hours to put together but I hope it helps folks out because lord knows I was a bit lost for a while there too. Please feel free to go crazy in the tags I love reading people's commentary on things.

★ Other QSMP info posts ★

Who is Sapo Peta? | Who is Luzu? | Who is Spreen? | Who is Vegetta? | Who is Rubius?

"Is this Lore?"

And if you want to hear my thoughts on QSMP and its lore-related shenanigans, this is my Qsmp Talk tag.

#QSMP #Luzu #Zulu #Arin #QSMP Info #This legitimately took hours of work I feel like death #Posting now because I know if I delay it I know Luzu will have done ANOTHER lore stream by the time I wake up #and I'll have to do even MORE work updating this #curse timezones #anyways pls... appreciate my efforts #the other posts were super fun to write but this one was legitimately hard work #THE TRANSLATIONS...........Luzu for the love of all that is holy please post a transcript for us next time it's so hard to see the chat #I'll warn you: this is a long post

[fedyarc]

ִ ࣪𖤐 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞: 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 ִ ࣪ ࣪𖤐

in which one cannot refrain from contemplating the heart of their beloved.

word account: 2.8k

a/n: who would have thought that organizing the text to make it aesthetically pleasing would be so laborious... i feel like it turned out off. also i feel that the concept could have been better developed, but here it is!

HE KEEPS DISTANCE WITH HIS HEART IN HANDS

truth be told, dazai more than anyone else, is profoundly scared when he notices signs of his own vulnerability. he too is deeply aware of this sicken behaviour of his, intimately familiar with it to an extent that it consumes him deeply. he, in fact, nourishes a significant time of his day to cultivate a state of meticulous awareness regarding his actions and portrayal of his image to others. doubts about what someone elses actions represent in a raw and pure manner, how his actions interfere with the overall situation and what could be done to achieve his goals in the moment continually weigh on his mind, always inserted in a circle of doubt and alienation. dazai consistently dissociates, whether consciously or not, from the life around him. this behavior is rooted in fear, and how could he not be scared?

he has grown accustomed to always representing and crafting an idea but not presenting originality to others. so, naturally, when dazai realizes how attached he is to someone, his initial response is to create distance, precisely due to his misunderstanding of what he feels—logically interpreted but never willing to act upon them emotionally. he conceptualizes what he should feel, though only supposing to understand his own emotions.

dazai maintains almost an imperceptible distance, hiding in the artificial warmth of his persona. not too distant to be unable to observe your essence and be continually enchanted by it, but rather with an unilateral seclusion to the point where there are brief moments in which he finds himself demonstrating an undisguised emotional frankness (unaccompanied by the usual dramatic antics he often presents to hide his yearnings) by your side. however, his candid emotional state is revealed through small acts. if you look closely enough or have keen perception, it is possible to observe his elusive face on nights when mutual silence is a comforting piece and see the small shattered fragments of his soul being illuminated with your shared reassuring company, while affection seeks to be offered and conveyed primarily through the embrace and caress of two primal lovers.

HIS AFFECTION COMES WITH A SENSE OF FRAGILITY

the hesitance of his actions towards you is not intentional. he fears not the fragility of your affection towards him, but rather fears himself, for the decay of his own being. he demonstrates unease not with your touch, instead with the consideration of how ineffective it is to offer his affection to someone who is already full of it. his love is suffocating, inconsolable, and always prone to the intensity of wanting more.

in these moments, dazai's depreciative thoughts resonate more intensely and frequently in his mind. his delays in arriving at work become more frequent, and sometimes, when he does arrive - after receiving an earful from kunikida and collapsing onto the agency's sofa - you can observe his longing gaze directed at a space that represents one of his lost memories.

on these days, his touch is more present and intense. his presence lingers around more frequently, and his hugs tend to last a little longer. during these times, make sure to subtly reassure his feelings, either by reciprocating the embrace and whispering that you appreciate dazai's efforts, or by stroking his hair while telling him that you are here as he listens to the beats of your heart.

the terrace was one of the places where dazai could be seen quite frequently. it was not uncommon to observe him in the café below the company, spinning uncontrollably in his office chair or lying on the organization's sofa, singing, and sometimes even trying to doze off (always with his random sleep masks). once, you remember, you were arriving early at the agency to prepare a mini welcome party for atsushi - nothing too big, just placing a cake on his table with some small decorations saying "welcome to the agency!" - and as you were about to turn on the lights, you saw a fallen body facing the floor. your first instinct, obviously, was to try to see who it was and what happened, yet as soon as you turned the presumed corpse, you heard an extremely loud and off-key "boooo" with two pairs of eyes (you swear that the eyes of his mask were something wicked) staring at you with a malefic smile. when you questioned him about why he was sleeping at the agency, he shrugged nonchalantly, saying that now kunikida can't say he is late for work. since then, you keep your guard up whenever turning on the lights when you arrive at the agency.

as you climbed the stairs to your destination, some thoughts echoed in your head, warning you that there was still time to give up on this and just leave the bento box on his table. with or without a note to adress the matter, it was irrelevant; you knew he would guess who had left that object on his desk. the important thing would be that you tried to do something, after all, with the bestest of intentions. at least that way, you would have avoided the embarrassing conversation that occurs when you give something to someone: the wait for their reaction, whether they liked it or not, and the anticipation.

if you went back now, you could grab any case from the agency - which, in reality, would be a pretty welcome action considering the pile of papers that had accumulated from cases to be resolved and some others bureaucracies to be finished, so many that you were sure you wouldn't have time for any interaction with this man at least until tomorrow.

but at the same time, you would love to see his reaction. at least the first 5 milliseconds in which his features would betray a hint of surprise before returning to their controlled spasms. you would like to make sure that dazai understood the meaning behind this action - that you truly care and worry about him. so, what other way would be more personal and sentimental than to deliver something made by you personally?

answer: none, or that's what you would like to think. and because of this logical and thoroughly explanation, you find yourself incredibly exasperated to open the terrace door.

this is usually the place where he accompanies you when you need to take some time to breathe or smoke (even though you abandoned that habit a while ago). it has a breathtaking view. as dusk descends, casting a soft glow upon the world, the scene transforms into a tapestry of mesmerizing beauty. sunlight dances playfully upon the windows of towering structures, painting them with hues reminiscent of stained glass, while distant clouds gather, adding depth to the canvas of the sky.

your favorite conversations with dazai take place in the orange dusk: laughter spills effortlessly into the air as the workday fades into memory, replaced by shared stories and witty banter that are usually accompanied by a small bottle of sake. yet, on evenings tinged with hues of purple, the atmosphere shifts; the air thickens with a sense of solemnity. each breath feels like a cool kiss upon fevered skin, a silent reward for surviving the tumult of the day. in these moments, silence reigns between you both, until weariness claims one, and usually, it's you who surrenders to the embrace of sleep.

"dazai?" you ask, searching for his figure in the place. you spot signs of your routine encounters: some soda cans left from your last meeting, which must have been just last week. there were also some plants he once bought while you were walking together. you remarked on their beauty, and he insisted they 'should receive the warmth of the sun and be accomplices in your next escapades' as he picked the flowers. it didn't last long until they died . the very next week, he appeared with the plastic version and stated, 'they are fine; it's too much of a bother to take care of living things anyway. besides, just don't leave a tortoise around them, and it will be okay.' while reminiscing, a voice wakes you up:

"the very same," he replies lightly, as you try to move towards the sound. he was lying on the ceiling that led to the entrance to the terrace, with his head resting in his hands, staring blankly at the sky. although you couldn't see much of his face, he seemed extremely tired. how long has it been since he slept properly? "what brings you here? don't tell me kunikida-san is missing me already."

"no, not him. i, uh, well," you cringe internally. how is it so difficult for a grown-up to say a full sentence without stuttering? "i've noticed your absence, and well, i'm not sure if i have the right to say this, so if this makes you uncomfortable somehow, do tell, but i… made you this," you say as he sits down. he looks rather perplexed and intrigued, and you are afraid you overstepped any boundaries as you hear him say.

"…what?" his tone is soft, and you're not even sure how you could hear him with how loudly your heart is beating.

"i've tried to prepare you a meal, but i'm aware that my culinary abilities are definitely… something… so do not feel compelled to eat all of this, especially if my cooking does not suit your taste. instead, see this as a reminder that it is important to eat correctly and, uh… i bought the lunch box because it has two crabs! funny, right? i think so. yeah," you ramble as you are met with silence. did he not enjoy it? his gaze was unsettling.

"here it is, do take care and have a… nice day?" you motioned for him to take the bento box from you as you placed the food next to his figure and left hurriedly without even waiting for his response.

taking a moment to scrutinize its contents, the aroma wafts tantalizingly to him, beckoning from afar. it's been an eternity since he savored a meal of such promise, he muses to himself.

"how interesting," he hums, reaching for the chopsticks neatly wrapped next to the food. as dazai unwraps them, he takes a bite of the meal and then glances up at the sky painted in shades of pink, the last remnants of sunlight casting a warm glow over the horizon. savoring another mouthful, he exhales contentedly, appreciating the serene beauty of the rosy sunset. smiling subtly, the man fondly touches the image of the two crabs playing volleyball on the lid of the bento box. "thank you for the meal," dazai murmurs, before returning his attention to his food.

HE IS PROTECTIVE OVER YOU

your well-being and safety are among his priorities. dazai, being who he is, obviously wouldn't explicitly show his intentions. and if he does, it would be in an exaggeratedly comical manner. his care is revealed through small gestures, like accompanying you in some field cases and ensuring that no great danger is lurking around you, changing your position on the street by your waist, brushing it off as he says that "it's easier for him to meet the serene lips of death if he's close to the street in case some merciful car fulfills his wishes," or by gently guiding you with his hands on your back as you pass through a crowded place. obviously, there are also occasions when his actions are expressed in a more expansive manner, such as:

the agency's thermostat broke and you're feeling cold? for some reason, after you head to the printer to retrieve some papers from the office and return to your desk, a cup of tea is resting right in the center of your table, which curiously happens to be your favorite flavor with the perfect amount of sweetness. sitting down to enjoy it more efficiently (and to avoid any possible spills on your files), before you can wonder how exactly this mysterious someone would know such personal details, you hear a familiar voice echoing behind you, where a comforting fragrance spreads through your nostrils emanating from the garment placed on your shoulder with a comfortable weight.

"my dearest bella, how dare you try to escape from this freezing world without me? no, no. you ought to be more serious! or was it your plan all along? if you truly desired my warm and affectionate embrace, all you had to do was ask nicely, and it would have been provided for you."

somehow, you forgot to check the weather forecast for the day and missed the fact that it was going to rain? worry not! that's actually the ideal situation for dazai to woo you as he accompanies you home.

''bella! heavens must have heard my pleadings for this moment, as they have granted me the pleasure of enjoying your company for a little longer. how disrespectful it would be to see you in this improper situation and leave you at the mercy of the weather… but you're in luck! as the incredible gentleman that i am, i shall accompany you to your destination. don't worry, i have the most effective tool against the rain, and look! there's enough space for both of us. i suggest, however, that you come a little closer – all your work would be wasted because of the rain, wouldn't it? it must be incredibly boring to have to redo your report because of the insensitive of the weather.''

HE ADMIRES YOU

the concept of admiration may manifest itself in numerous ways. it may be exhibited like icarus: who was passionately captivated by the brilliance and warmth of the sun, leading to his tragic downfall in the process of freeing himself, or like narcissus, who admired his own reflection with a profound magnetism responsible for allowing his obsession to flourish, ultimately leading to his tragic end. however selfish dazai assumes his actions may be and reveals himself to be, he admires you with an unfamiliar tenderness.

initially, dazai described the feeling your presence evoked in him as akin to the pressure of bandages encasing his skin. such an intense tightness, irrespective of its source, was markedly perceptible, serving as a signal that his blood circulation was indeed present and, to some extent, functional. due to the restrictive nature of this habit, dazai was able to sense his own heartbeat frequently, palpitating in various localizations providing him a suffocating reminder that he also exists. yet as time progressed since his previous analysis, the man noticed how misguided his initial assumption was.

the feelings you evoke in him are opposite to the ones reproduced with his bandages. they are however present in his daily life and despite inducing a certain pressure in his chest, are anesthetizing. it's even curious how each of your acts is capable of triggering a different reaction in him. your gaze, exchanged with clear surprise on your part – he presumes you didn't expect that upon meeting his gaze, you would discover he was also observing you. you definitely resemble a shrewd bunny, easily startled by abrupt movements. he smiles broader at this thought. your gaze elicits a more apparent heartbeat, one that takes him a good amount of time to control back to normal. his thoughts quickly race, trying to classify and analyze the motivation behind your charming behavior. all the certainty he had in the detailed construction of his image is slowly deconstructed by a mere gaze. your gaze.

"what, after all, do you see that arouses your fascination in me?" he ponders.

"oh, with your loving gaze, i succumb to the mortal sin of yearning for your attention. my, my, how insatiable you are. do you desire that i, too, provide you with the same?" dazai dramatizes.

among all your antics and delicate displays of care, his favorite one is, undoubtedly, your touch. even though the representative caress in the touch is not essentially an unknown idea to him, the feeling carried in the essence of such an action is an unfamiliar subject to the young man. how lovely it is to be able to feel your fingers tracing shapes on his face or to inhale your scent that wafts from your neck – a great choice of perfume, he thinks. it intrinsically represents how sweet your personality is, an angelic charm that dazai allows himself to be poisoned by more and more.

but unequivocally, his favorite moment beetween you both unfolds amidst the tranquil moonlit ambience of your shared room. to feel your breath gently grazing his skin, surrounded by your features bathed in the soft glow of the moon—a moment so full, so brimming with you, so vivid. perhaps this explains how he feels, like a celestial body illuminated by your glow, in an ecstasy provided only by another being—and if lucky enough, capable of reflecting the same brilliance that surrounds him.

taglist 𓏲𝄢 @lovedazai i hope this notif finds you well! srry by disturbing u in ur inbox tho and thank u soso much by your (in)direct encouragement for me to publish this! this means a lot to me \0/ )

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x you #osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs

[elektramouthed]

 Selves are crucial to writers.  [...] Reading and writing require focusing the mental attention upon a text by means of the visual sense. As an individual reads and writes he gradually learns to close or inhibit the input of his senses, to inhibit or control the responses of his body, so as to train energy and thought upon the written words. He resists the environment outside him by distinguishing and controlling the one inside him. This constitutes at first a laborious and painful effort for the individual, psychologists and sociologists tell us. In making the effort he becomes aware of the interior self as an entity separable from the environment and its input, controllable by his own mental action. The recognition that such controlling action is possible, and perhaps necessary, marks an important stage in ontogenetic as in phylogenetic development, a stage at which the individual personality gathers itself to resist disintegration.  If the presence or absence of literacy affects the way a person regards his own body, senses and self, that effect will significantly influence erotic life. It is in the poetry of those who were first exposed to a written alphabet and the demands of literacy that we encounter deliberate meditation upon the self, especially in the context of erotic desire. The singular intensity with which these poets insist on conceiving eros as lack may reflect, in some degree, that exposure. Literate training encourages a heightened awareness of personal physical boundaries and a sense of those boundaries as the vessel of one’s self. To control the boundaries is to possess oneself. For individuals to whom self-possession has become important, the influx of a sudden, strong emotion from without cannot be an unalarming event, as it may be in an oral environment where such incursions are the normal conductors of most of the important information that a person receives. When an individual appreciates that he alone is responsible for the content and coherence of his person, an influx like eros becomes a concrete personal threat. So in the lyric poets, love is something that assaults or invades the body of the lover to wrest control of it from him, a personal struggle of will and physique between the god and his victim. The poets record this struggle from within a consciousness—perhaps new in the world—of the body as a unity of limbs, senses and self, amazed at its own vulnerability.

Anne Carson, from Eros the Bittersweet

#anne carson #eros the bittersweet #nonfiction #essays #on self #on self possession #on boundaries #on literacy #2021 reads

[spongebobpentagonpants]

Sacred Medicine with Gary Zukav 1996

Gary Zukav is the author of The Dancing Wu Li Masters: An Overview of the New Physics, which won The American Book Award in Science, and the National Bestseller, The Seat of the Soul, which explores the new phase of evolution that we have entered. He was interviewed at his home by Kathy Doner, M.D.

Q: In The Seat of the Soul you discussed the evolution of consciousness – from five-sensory perception to the multi-sensory perception, and from external power to authentic power. Is this a true evolution or are we just coming back to a pre-science and an Eastern way of thinking? Where do we see this happening?

A: In me and in you and in the readers of this article. Some elements in this transformation aren't new. For example, aboriginal cultures knew that the Earth is alive. Every human after whom our religions are named spoke of nonphysical realms of experience and of consequences that occur in them that are created by actions in the physical realm. In the West, these nonphysical realms are called "heaven" and "hell". In the East, the consequences are called "karma".

However, we have now crossed an evolutionary threshold. That threshold is this: In the past we evolved through exploring physical reality and, in that process, developed the ability to manipulate and control it. This is external power. The development of tools, shelter, agriculture, and space travel are all examples of external power. Now we are becoming a multi-sensory species – one that is not limited to the five senses, that is evolving through responsible choice, and that is pursuing authentic power: the alignment of the personality with the soul.

Q: How does this relate to medicine?

A: The western medicine that you are practicing – the use of drugs and surgery – is the application of external power to the human body. Pharmaceuticals are a way of manipulating and controlling the physical body at the biomolecular level. Surgery is a means of manipulating and controlling the physical body at macroscopic levels. Western medicine has the same goal as oriental medicine, acupuncture, and homeopathy – which are all means of manipulating and controlling the body – to prolong physical survival.

The goal of multi-sensory humanity is spiritual growth. Five-sensory humans look at themselves as "bodies" with a mysterious quality called "mind". We are now becoming aware of ourselves both as personalities and as souls. This is part of the emergence of multisensory perception. By "personality" I mean our bodies and intuitional structures as well as our cognitive, affective, and perceptual capabilities. All of these are temporary. They come into being; they serve; and then they disappear. Serve what? They serve the immortal Soul.

From a multi-sensory point of view, every physical dysfunction is a symptom, and beneath every physical cause lays non-physical causes. In other words, physical dysfunction is the last stage in a developmental process, most of which is not physical. Treating someone with a physical dysfunction solely in terms of the physical is, to multi-sensory perception, analogous to treating a patient with an anesthetic. It diminishes pain but doesn't address causes. It allows the patient to work more effectively with the doctor, but it doesn't heal anything.

Q: This is a complete change of perspective for Western medicine. It also sets us health care pioneers on a rather tricky frontier.

A: It's all a matter of perception – are you willing to step into the largest arena of knowing that you can reach for, or, for your sense of security, will you stay in a smaller arena? As your awareness expands there will come a time that is analogous to wearing shoes that don't fit anymore, or clothes that you no longer find attractive. You may wear them as long as possible in order to get the most out of them, or so that you won't disturb friends who are used to seeing you in them. Eventually you will give them away. This frontier is an exciting place to be. I suggest that you try on the perspective of the immortal soul – the perspective of eternity – for size.

By the way, keep in mind that pioneers created what is now the conservative establishment that spurns pioneers. For example, the first human who said that diseases are transmitted by "germs" was ridiculed. When you say that physical symptoms have nonphysical causes that underlie their physical causes, the ostracism that you fear is the same that the pioneers who created contemporary allopathic medicine faced.

Q: Can you describe the evolution of our perception? The physicist, Max Planck, said that our aim is that "which poetic intuition may apprehend but which the intellect can never fully grasp".

A: Five-sensory logic and understanding originate in the mind. Multi-sensory humanity comprehends through the heart. The time has come for a higher order of logic and understanding. The characteristics of the old order of logic and understanding are well-mapped: It is linear and exclusionary. That means that you cannot think of something simultaneously in two ways. You can alternate rapidly between different ways of comprehending something, but to understand it in one way is to preclude understanding it in another.

The heart is non-linear. It does not understand sequentially. The heart is inclusionary. It comprehends in different ways simultaneously. For example, a father may be proud, jealous, and fearful for the safety of his son simultaneously. The heart understands all of this at the same time.

Intellectual understanding doesn't disappear with the emergence of multisensory perception. It gets demoted. It is no longer the chairman of the board, but instead becomes subservient to the heart. Humanity is now becoming multisensory and heart centered. The transition from five sensory perception to multisensory perception is occurring whether we wish it or not – it is the great evolutionary transformation that is reshaping humanity.

Becoming heart centered is a matter of choice – responsible choice. A responsible choice is a choice that brings into being consequences for which the chooser is willing to assume responsibility. Most of us do not consider ourselves responsible for what we create, or we would create very differently. A heart centered humanity, for example, could not use its intellectual capabilities to create caste systems, nerve gas, or nuclear weapons.

Q: Is this evolutionary transition simply a paradigm shift, a different way of looking at things?

A: No, not in the way that the shift from Ptolemaic to Copernican astronomy was a paradigm shift. This is a change not only in what we see, but also in what we can see; not only in what we experience, but also in what we can experience.

Q: And you feel this is happening even though we are surrounded by so many symbols of the old order of authoritarian power?

A: Yes. The pursuit of external power – the ability to manipulate control – that was our previous evolutionary modality now produces only violence and destruction. In other words, pursuing the previous evolutionary modality of humankind now produces its most counterproductive activities.

All of the social structures that we have built – education, governance, commerce, science – are collapsing because they no longer have a foundation.

That is why in your field, health care, is collapsing: It is based upon the perception as power as external – as the ability to manipulate and control. As costs continue to rise, pricing more and more people out of health care, your system has continually attempted to right itself. Now it is more concerned with its own health than it is with the health of the patients within it. This circumstance cannot be corrected by cost containment, or anything else, because, like all of our social structures, medicine is built on the obsolete perception of power as the ability to manipulate and control.

This is good news. The old is giving way to the new. In other words, the disintegration of our social structures is not the product of a pathology, but the profoundly positive consequences of humanity shifting from an intellectually oriented mode of evolution through the exploration of the physical world to a heart centered mode of evolution through responsible choice with the assistance and guidance of nonphysical Teachers – through the pursuit of authentic power.

Q: As a physician I try to encourage my patients to find the meaning of their suffering and to address the lessons that they are learning, and not just to prescribe drugs and surgery. Do you have any advice for a healer who doesn't want to work with just physical causes and cures?

A: If you set the intention to draw to you those souls who will help you to understand and implement the creation of deep health, they will come, and those who come for pills will drop away. Offer them choices. Responsible choice requires the knowledge that there are options, and what those options are. For example, if you feel that the despondency and physical dysfunction of a patient is related to the fact that he is living a meaningless life, or that he disdains his wife, or fears his employer, suggest that he explore the possibility that his physical symptoms are part of these larger circumstances of his life.

You can relieve some of his symptoms with medication, but offer him or her the choice of addressing deeper issues if he or she chooses.

Get in touch with your own sense of meaning. Your sense of meaning in your life, or lack of it, tells you if you are walking the path that your soul wants to walk. If your life is filled with meaning, you are. If your life is devoid of meaning, you are not. If you are somewhere in between, moving in the direction – start to do those things – that give you of a sense of gratitude and purpose.

Your life was meant to be filled with meaning. As you align your personality with your soul, it becomes so. That is an experience of authentic power.

Q: You have said that the premises of "sacred medicine" are that Spirit is real, that illness has meaning, and that illness serves the health of the soul. How would sacred medicine define "health"?

A: Health is identical with authentic power. It is the alignment of the personality with the soul. The soul is that part of you that reaches for harmony, cooperation, and reverence for life. An authentically empowered human is one who is living a meaningful, joyful, gratitude-filled life. Consider someone in her midthirties who has a healthy body, runs eight miles a day, and with every quantitative assessment can prove that she is healthy. Yet she is miserable, and no one wants to be near her. Contrast her with someone who has a physical body that is decaying of AIDS yet who is radiant, knows why he is alive, and is living his life gloriously. Everyone wants to be with him. Who is healthy and who is ill? From the perception of sacred medicine, the individual whose body is dysfunctional but whose life is filled with meaning is more healthy than the one who can run a marathon but who lives in rage and sees herself as a victim.

Q: When I was interviewing an Ayurvedic professor in India 25 years ago, I was struck by his insistent question, "Why don't the Western medical schools stress the health of their students' minds? Don't they know that a sick mind can't heal another sick mind?" Are you suggesting that to practice sacred medicine we healers must evolve spiritually?

A: Precisely. How can a healer who is not able to understand his own difficult learning paths through fear and vulnerability and addiction be able to help another soul who is struggling through the same things?

Another major difference between contemporary medicine and sacred medicine is the equality of all participants. We are all sailors on the same ship. The physician has the same value as the patient. Both are healed through their interaction. Both need healing or the interaction would not be taking place at all.

This is impossible for five sensory perception to see, but it is obvious to multisensory perception.

Q: As the old order collapses, physicians and traditional health care administrators are frightened at their loss of power. Is this necessarily traumatic or can it be valuable in making us come to terms with our fears and begin looking at authentic power?

A: It will be traumatic for those who cling to the perception of power as external. Those who pursue authentic power will find their lives exciting, challenging, and fulfilling.

For me, the idea of living in a world that is cocreated by great souls – by equals – who are consciously exploring the depths of spirituality in physical form is one of the most exciting that I can conceive.

Sacred Medicine - An Interview with Gary Zukav, in Alternative Health Practioner, Journal of Complementary and Natural Care, Springer Publishing NY, Vol 2, No 2, Summer 1996.

[songmingisthighs]

[21.57] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ nothing's as concerning as wooyoung's 180° change, it's all or nothing for him. And you ? You just became his everything.

⇁ tw : violence, mafia life

⇁ part. 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Five days went by and you still haven't regained consciousness and Wooyoung had not left your side for even one second.

Neglecting not only his duties but also his own well-being. He wouldn't leave you for a single second, afraid that if he does, someone might come in and finished you off. So he had San be on standby in the guest room, taking his place for when he needs to shower or go for a bathroom break. Said man even attempted to spoon-feed Wooyoung when he found out that his friend had denied the food his house staff brought to him, to which Wooyoung finally gave in and feed himself after San tied him up in his chair and threaten to feed him mother bird style.

When Yeosang came back in the day after you were first found, Wooyoung almost stab one of the nurses when he tried to take you to get checked.

"Seriously? I brought my machines and staff here and literally, within the first 2 minutes here, there are no signs of gratitude and you almost injured one of my staffs? Are you freaking high again?" Yeosang nagged after pulling the petrified nurse to the side.

Honestly, Wooyoung felt bad for scaring the man, but he had to hold onto you no matter what. You have to be within his peripheral vision because the last time he (stupidly) let (drove; shove) you out of his sight (turned all cctvs off which then directly caused you to get kidnapped), he almost didn't get the chance to regret what he did (and said) to you.

But Wooyoung wasn't gonna let other people know that he has remorse. Heck no.

He's the Jung family head mafia and there isn't anyone allowed to know how he's actually like.

Except you.

Right after you wake up.

So instead of letting Yeosang's staffs take you away, Wooyoung swooped you in his deceptively strong arms and put you on the gurney.

Once he's sure that you're secured, he looked at Yeosang and his staffs with narrowed eyes, "no offense, man, but I don't trust any of them," Wooyoung then look to his men who's stationed by his door, "get their details and do thorough background checks on them," he said before pushing the gurney down, forcing Yeosang to personally help him.

He made sure that his men were stationed at every entrance, ran background checks on every staff that entered his place, heck even put out a curfew for everyone including his visiting friends.

"Dude, you gotta get out of here, you look like a zombie," San said as he entered the room, walking towards Wooyoung who had moved his desk closer to the bed where you lied motionless. He slightly cringed when he saw the needles that poked through the skin of your hand.

Without looking up from his work, Wooyoung sighed and shook his head, "she could wake up any second, I wanna be here when she does" he muttered, eyes flitting to your form on the bed for a second.

San approached his friend, leaning both hands on the table, "Wooyoung, you missed 3 important meetings, 2 briefings, and you haven't delegated workloads other than security details for your own place, the organization will be in shambles soon," he said sternly.

Hearing facts behind his words irked Wooyoung, he knew about the current vulnerability in his organization because he's only been taking care of you since you came back to him. He didn't want to be reminded of his previous neglect.

He was about to tell San off when suddenly a voice chimed in.

"You should go do your job, Wooyoung," you called, coughing a little from scratchy throat.

It took him some time to fully realize that you had woken up after five days. He immediately run to your side and help you sit up, ordering San to get you a glass of water.

Once your throat had been soothed by the water, Wooyoung held your hand in his, kissing the back side of it multiple times to express how glad he is, "thank God you woke up, I-I don't know what I'd do if you don't," he choked, feeling tears start to brim on his eyes.

You initially didn't pull away from his touch nor his affection, maybe it's the fact that you had just woken up, maybe you think you're hallucinating, because the Jung Wooyoung you knew would never talk to you or treat you like this.

Though it hurts, you pulled your hand away from his grip, cringing a bit, "F-funny you say that, last time we spoke you said you wanted me dead," you muttered bitterly at him.

Sensing that this is a personal conversation, San slipped away before hearing anything else.

Wooyoung stared at you with sad eyes, "No, baby, I would never," he reached forward, trying to take your hand in his once again. But you scooted further into the bed, your eyes started watering, "liar," you choked out, "you said you've been planning my assassination since the beginning and you wanted to go through with it,"

"I-I did, didn't I? I can't deny I've said that to you, but please, losing you was the hardest thing that ever happened to me-"

"Well what about me!?" You exclaimed, cutting him off, surprising him at the tone you used.

By now tears had streamed down your face, your hands were clutching the blanket on your lap tightly as you began sobbing, "f-for a year, I've been nothing but understanding to you and your actions, I've done nothing but try to stay out of your way, all I asked in return was to be treated like a human being, but you couldn't even do that now, could you ? I even had to get kidnapped by whoever's after you for you to finally give half a fuck about me," you were choking the words out, your raw emotion evident with the way you speak.

Wooyoung never once seen this side of you, the side that is so raw and vulnerable. Sure, he'd occassionally hear your soft sobs through the en suite bathroom or came across your quivering figure in the gardens. But never once did you bore yourself to him like this.

Despite knowing that you might push him away, Wooyoung climbed into bed as quick as he can and enveloped you tightly in his arms.

At first you tried pushing him off with all your strength, not wanting to be comforted by him. But he held on, he knew his way around people's movement so using his knowledge against you was an easy feat.

It took you a while, you still struggled for a bit but you eventually gave in, letting his arms wrap around you and tucking your head under his chin. By now you had somehow situated between his legs, him carefully minding the IV on your right hand as he pulled you in deeper (as if it's possible).

"I know that I don't deserve it, heck, I deserve nothing from you after putting you in hell like that, but I sincerely apopogize and I will do anything and everything I can in order to gain your trust and maybe..." he pulled back slightly and tilt your chin up so he can meet your gaze, "...we can go forth and build a relationship?"

Stranger things had happened in your life but this, by far, is the strangest. Never in a million years would you ever thought that you'd be able to see the great Jung Wooyoung blush like a high school girl. It's honestly cute.

But not as cute as when he bit his lips to prevent his mouth from tearing due to the large grin that bloomed on his face once you gave him a nod, agreeing to him after leaving him nervous for a solid 5 minutes.

#ateez #wooyoung #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #timestamp #ateez timestamp #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop timestamp #au #kpop au #smt timestamp

[coffeeandritalin]

Thoughts on The Song of Achilles

I just read The Song of Achilles, and while I have book club tomorrow to gush over this book, I think the level of deep I'm digging to will probably be too much for my club-mates. So I've decided to use Tumblr to offload instead.

This is the first book I actively annotated in since... probably high school (aka, it's been more than a hot second). This was probably the best and worst book to use to start annotations again. Best because it is so beautifully written. Worst because, of course, I no longer have a heart as it has been hollowed out to relieve me of the intense pain I suffered after reading it.

In the final chapter, Patroclus calls Thetis out, "You said that Chiron ruined him. You are a goddess, and cold, and know nothing. You are the one who ruined him." I definitely agree with Patroclus here. However, in today's TED talk, I will rant about how Patroclus' is also responsible for Achilles' ruin.

To start, I have to praise Miller for how masterfully she molds each character. In just four chapters, we have a complex understanding of who Patroclus is as a person and why he ticks the way he ticks. Patroclus' defining characteristic, confidence (or lack thereof), is first hinted at on the first page, "Quickly, I became a disappointment." This is the core trait Miller starts out with to flesh out the character. The low opinion Patroclus has of himself, heavily shaped by his father, becomes the source and shaper of all his other traits.

Patroclus' low self-opinion is his greatest gift and flaw. His entire life, he has been told he is worth nothing. He is emotionally abused, depressed, and hurting. Tragically, out of this comes his humility and humbleness. In a world that is hard and cruel, Patroclus chose to be soft and kind - the key to what makes the people around him love him so deeply. There is a whole separate soap box waiting to be stepped on for this topic alone. Today, we are focusing on how Patroclus' lack of confidence becomes his fatal flaw. Just as his gentleness is borne from his low confidence, so too is his self-contempt, and this is his ultimate undoing.

From the very first moment he lays eyes on him, Patroclus has always seen himself as second to Achilles. It originates from a place of envy but eventually comes from a place of love and admiration. Patroclus, believing himself only worthy of disdain, allows this to define him. Rather, he uses it to define himself - what value could he possibly have without Achilles at his side?

It is not just Thetis' misguided, motherly love and prideful scorn for mortals that fills Achilles' mind with the whispers of gods instead of the cries of his peers. It is not just the adulation of the masses and the glorification of war that lures Achilles into hubris and a madness that even Patroclus falls prey to. It is also Patroclus' self-contempt and core belief that he has no value beyond Achilles that fuels and enables Achilles' arrogance.

There was only one person Achilles was ever willing to put on a pedestal above himself. He believes Patroclus is worth extending the Trojan War and keeping thousands of families apart for ten years (a separate discourse on this). He holds Patroclus in the absolute highest regard. On multiple occasions, although Patroclus only consciously acknowledges two, Achilles defers to what Patroclus' wants. Despite his godliness, which he is fully aware of, Achilles is willing to submit himself to Patroclus.

Patroclus is always in awe of Achilles and in disbelief that he managed to land such a hot piece of a**. Through the first two thirds of the book, Achilles also repeatedly mentions how equally in awe he is of Patroclus and repeatedly tries to get Patroclus to stand by his side as an equal. However, Patroclus' self-contempt will not allow him to see himself as Achilles' equal. Achilles makes many attempts to put Patroclus' needs first, but Patroclus consistently rebuffs these efforts and insists his needs be second to Achilles'. Over time, Patroclus trains Achilles to see his (Achilles') needs above his own (Patroclus'). Due to a highly privileged upbringing, Achilles knows no better than to gradually accept this as fact and ends up taking it for granted.

The only person who could have taught Achilles to know better and to understand reason is Patroclus himself (and probably Chiron, but Chiron isn't the one who is constantly and seductively whispering in Achilles' ears for 20 odd years). Patroclus was everything that tethered Achilles to his gentleness and humanity. However, Patroclus dotes on and spoils Achilles far too much. He makes himself, and is grateful to be, the rug that Achilles wipes his shoes on (despite Achilles equal insistence to clean off Patroclus' shoes).

With all this pre-established cognitive wiring, can we blame Achilles for being the densest of all walnuts when it comes to Patroclus' feelings and needs? (The answer is yes, and I place equal blame on Achilles as I do Patroclus for all of this.) Until the last third of the book, Patroclus is the only person who could possibly force their will on Achilles. He loved and respected both his parents, but he was defiant even against them. Of course, Patroclus has neither parent's pride and does not ever seek to force his will on Achilles or anyone else (something which he is definitely loved for). He loves Achilles and genuinely wants everything that would make Achilles happy.

Most crucial to this whole rant thought, Patroclus also refuses to acknowledge (read: zero self-confidence) that he has the power to stay Achilles' hand. Patroclus forgets he has a voice. He forgets his opinions and feelings are worth of acknowledgement. He forgets to be selfish and fight for what he wants (outside of Achilles' survival).

In true Patroclus fashion (forever putting others before himself), he finally stands up against Achilles for Briseis' sake. Although he has secured Briseis' temporary safety, he is far too late and Achilles has already been swimming in the deep end for a good thirty minutes. Achilles is entrenched in the belief that he and Patroclus are of the same mind, that his wants must also be Patroclus' wants. While he is wounded by the betrayal, Achilles cannot and does not stay mad at Patroclus because he knows his immortal glory is also what Patroclus is trying to build and preserve.

This is as deep as Achilles' understanding goes though. Achilles' belief system has been shaped too perfectly. His cause is Patroclus' cause, any ancillary motivation is but an afterthought. The blinders are up and Achilles only has eyes for his immortal glory. He is blind to how much pain was necessary to provoke Patroclus into mutiny against him. He is unaware of the searing grief it caused Patroclus (in contrast, Briseis immediately understands how severely this betrayal affects Patroclus). Worse, Achilles is completely ignorant of Patroclus' true reasoning and displays blatant lack of concern to Patroclus' emotional wellbeing by immediately launching into how he and Thetis have concocted a plan to let thousands of more Greeks suffer for the sake of his honor. Patroclus is fighting (albeit too late) to bring Achilles back to his humanity and spare innocent people from needless brutality. He has literally and physically spilt blood to right the wrongs he finally opened his eyes to, and Achilles undoes it all in one, idle stroke.

Patroclus was the only person who could keep Achilles grounded, but his infinite love only made him wish to see Achilles fly free. Patroclus was the only person who could scold Achilles into seeing the wrong in his actions and beliefs, but his dotage stayed his tongue and he instead chose to maintain Achilles naivete. Patroclus was the only person who could raise Achilles to his best self and also utterly break him, but his self-contempt did not allow him to acknowledge that he had the power, and thus responsibility, to guide Achilles. Patroclus failed to take meaningful action earlier because he had little faith that his actions and words would matter (despite Achilles, Briseis, and Chiron repeatedly trying to convince him otherwise). He eventually builds up the confidence to believe he is at least worthy of dying for someone he loves, thus cursing grief upon those who love him.

#tsoa #tsoa spoilers #the song of achilles #in this essay i will #welcome to my ted talk

[ahkaahshi]

sweet dreams [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, cockwarming, somnophilia (as in he slides in while you’re sleepin but consent was already given in this instance), slight praise kink, penetrative sex, swearing, brief mentions of a daddy kink (are we even surprised by this anymore??)

word count: 2.4k

overview: ushijima’s thoughts about you keep him awake long enough to hear tidbits of your sweet dreams about him.

From where he lies on his back, drifting between sleep and consciousness, Ushijima lets out a deep sigh of discontentment and turns his head towards your form beneath the covers beside him. In the gentle glow from the streetlights seeping in around the curtains, he can somewhat see the outline of your body, the covers rising and falling around your midriff as you breathe gently and peacefully. The bare skin of your shoulders peering out from beneath the comforter catches his attention, and he instinctively pulls the sheets up closer to your neck to protect you from the chill in the air.

It’s a rare occasion when he can’t sleep. Usually, he’s quick to fall into a deep slumber after a long and arduous day of practice, training, and any other responsibilities required of himself as well as the other Team Japan athletes. He thought tonight would be another restful night, given the activities he’d gotten up to today—and having you put a pleasant end to his week by dragging him into bed for a few rounds of passionate sex to make up for the time you’d spent apart.

But, in spite of having his craving for you satiated earlier, he still can’t get you off his mind.

He can’t stop imagining the feeling of your warm, soft skin beneath his hands as he runs them along every inch of your body, or the way his fingers sink into it when he presses them against your hips and rear. He can’t get the beautiful tune of your mewls out of his head, especially not when you say his name so sweetly and with such yearning, letting him know that he’s all you want and everything you need. And he most certainly can’t push aside the sensation of the warm, inviting wetness of your core on his cock as your walls clench around him so tightly, so lovingly, that it’s as if you never want him to leave.

A low groan rumbles in his chest, and he moves his hand beneath the covers to grip the erection that’s formed at just the sheer thought of you. Oh, how much he wants to be buried in that sweet pussy of yours that always takes him so well and is always so receptive to him; but he doesn’t want to wake you. He’s not the only one who’s had a tiresome week, and he knows you need to rest well, just as he does.

However, as the thought of jerking himself off to the images of you he has permanently etched into his brain crosses his mind, so does a memory of a recent conversation the two of you had about a week or two ago that has his heart pounding against his ribcage. At the time, he’d been struggling to clear his mind enough of all the stressors affecting him to sleep peacefully, and your awareness of his restlessness had led you to suggest a possible solution.

“You can… you can use me if you need to, baby. I-I want you to. It’s okay if I’m asleep. I want you to be able to relax.”

Though some time had passed since you’d made this offer to him, he’d never taken you up on it. The thought was enticing—and he understood that you’d given him consent beforehand—but the worry of waking you up kept him from acting on his desires each time he found himself awake at odd hours of the night. While he watches you sleep peacefully, trying to decide if he should accept your invitation or head to the bathroom instead, a sudden realization strikes him.

All this time, he’d been thinking that you were offering the option to him for his satisfaction and peace of mind, but it had never occurred to him that you might actually want him to do it for your own pleasure—even though you’d stated that you’d wanted him to try it. Now, with this idea in mind, your figure seems to act as a magnet that draws him closer to you.

Carefully, he moves his body into the cold space between you and props himself up on his elbow so he can lean over you and take in as much of your sleeping form as he can see in the soft light. He admires everything about you, from the way your messy strands of hair splay out over the pillow to the way your fingers twitch softly where they rest beside your face. Many times before has he witnessed the serene sight of you in a deep slumber, but never before has it been this challenging for him to keep his hands off of you. So, he allows his palm to come to rest atop your shoulder, exposing a bit more of your tender skin to him while it runs down the length of your arm.

As his hand travels further, making its way along your torso and down to your hip, he brings his face to your neck so he can litter it with gentle kisses. His dick throbs impatiently at the familiar sensation of the body of yours he knows so well beneath his fingertips once more, and he has to keep himself from rutting into the supple skin of your thighs where they rest gently atop one another beneath the sheets. Just as his fingers dare to wander in between your legs, mere inches away from your warm core, he hears a sound that makes him stop in his tracks.

“Mm,” you breathe softly, “’Toshi…” Moments after the soft moan leaves your slightly parted lips, he feels your muscles shudder as you wriggle your hips and readjust your leg, so it’s thrown further across the bed in the direction you’re facing. For a second, he wonders if you’re awake, but your eyelids don’t flutter, and your body doesn’t shift again. But you do treat him to another whisper of his name. “’Toshi…”

You’re just too irresistible to him, beckoning him even in your sleep. Knowing that you’re thinking about him as you dream and feeling just how wet you are when he drags his fingers along your slit has him feeling desperate. He wants to be inside of you, giving you the pleasure he can imagine you’re chasing subconsciously. With a shuddering breath, he aligns the head of his leaking cock at your entrance, placing his hand on your hip so he can guide your sleeping form onto it as he pushes inside of you.

In spite of his eagerness, he’s slow and gentle with the process so he doesn’t hurt you or rouse you from your rest. A soft grunt spills onto your neck when he bottoms out, fully sheathing himself in your familiar warmth. The comfort he feels is almost instant, as if every nagging thought gets shut out from his mind by some, invisible force. All he can focus on is keeping you close to him and basking in the pleasure he always derives from having your body against his.

The small sigh of contentment that leaves your mouth matches that he breathes into your shoulder when he nestles his face in the crook of your neck. His entire body relaxes against yours and the bed, and it’s not long before his eyelashes flutter shut, grazing your skin in the process.

There’s a few, long minutes of quietude and peace until you murmur, “Please,” again in your sleep before releasing another drawn-out moan. Whether it’s intentional or not he’s unsure, but your hips grind against his in lazy, uncoordinated movements. Since he’s not intent on having sex with you while you’re asleep, he uses a firm but gentle grip to still your actions even though they feel divine. He doesn’t want to get too worked up and awaken you, which is already hard enough with the way your walls pulse around him—fully aware of his presence inside of you even though you aren’t quite yet.

A low hum echoes in his throat when his name leaves your lips once more. He wonders what dreams you’re having about him. What he’s doing to you. What you’re feeling. What you want to feel. You were soaked before he’d even touched you, so you must’ve been imagining some lewd fantasies—maybe those you haven’t even told him about yet. But whatever it is that you’re imagining with him, it has you fairly worked up.

“Wakatoshi.” His moniker escapes you in a whine, and he lifts his head when he feels the muscles in your neck twitch slightly. To both his surprise and delight, he finds that your eyelashes have parted so you can watch him with a half-lidded gaze, (e/c) eyes clouded over with lust. “Want you again…” you whimper, voice no louder than a nearly inaudible breath, “Please, baby.”

Your request has his cock throbbing against your walls with anticipation, and he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face as he asks, “You sure?”

Reaching up to take the hand skimming along your cheek in yours, you nod. “Right here… like this.” He’s seen you in moments of desperation many times before, but the way you look now—still groggy and disoriented from being asleep yet so needy that you’re breathless already—awakens a different side of him. A side that’s not rough or wanting to ravish you until your body’s littered with love bites and heaving from exertion; rather, a side that wants to treat you as if you’re the most precious yet delicate flower that he’s ever seen. He can’t resist you, and he doesn’t want to anyway.

So, with a touch more tender than usual, one of his hands finds your sternum, tracing along the swell of your breasts, while his other moves to your waist to hold your back flush against his chest. This gentle action pushes the head of his cock against your cervix, eliciting a gentle mewl from you. “Always take me so well, baby girl,” he praises, placing more kisses against your neck, “Always feel so good.”

Your core is both strained and hypersensitive from your previous rounds born out of a more animalistic desire for one another, but any soreness you feel quickly melts into pleasure with his slow, controlled strokes. Another small cry echoes from your mouth at feeling his fingers travel down to your clit so his long, middle digit can stroke it gently. “Ah!” you moan, hips bucking against his touch, “Right there... mm.”

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice straining as he picks up his pace ever so slightly. The soft hum of approval that leaves your mouth is nearly caught up in the sounds of the sheets shifting along your skin and the gentle creaks of the mattress’s springs. “Fuck, baby; love being inside you.” Your walls squeezing him affectionately in response to his loving words has him groaning into your neck again before dragging his lips over it in open-mouthed kisses.

For a few moments, neither of you speak—both too caught up in being connected so intimately once more and too exhausted to form coherent words. Instead, you simply lose yourselves in how your bodies mold together so perfectly, from the way his hand ensconces yours when he reaches around to hold onto it to the way you accommodate every inch of him so well. Despite being turned away from him, you still feel just as close—if not closer—to him as you do when you’re gazing into each other’s eyes while he plunges inside of you.

Eventually, with one of his hands wrapped tightly around yours while the other remains between your legs, only moving away to knead your soft breasts as he thrusts into you with long, firm strokes, you find yourself at the edge of yet another orgasm. You vocalize your desire by allowing the words, “Daddy, please! Wanna cum,” to fall off your tongue in feverish pants. The low groan of satisfaction that sends tingles along your skin has you feeling unbearably hot and bothered. Every muscle in your body feels tense as you dangle on the edge of your release, but you know Ushijima’s intent on getting you there.

“Yeah?” is his husky response as he snaps his hips against yours with enough force and speed to shake the bed, “Daddy’s always gonna take care of his good girl.” The head of his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot while his fingers trace tight circles around your clit sends your mind into a haze, and all you can do is babble incoherently about how badly you need him. “Gonna make you cum so hard, baby.”

You know damn well that Ushijima has never been one to break his promises, and now certainly isn’t an exception. In an instant, warmth is spreading across your body like a wildfire, bringing with it waves of euphoria as he pushes you over the edge of your orgasm. Spots fill your vision when you screw your eyes shut and moan unabashedly while your hips thrash against his cock and fingers. The mesmerizing sensation of your pussy spasming around him has his hold on you tightening as he drives into you at a maddening speed until he’s releasing inside of you with hot spurts of his seed. More praises fall upon your ears as he fucks you through your high, wanting to be inside of you and hear your sounds of pleasure for as long as he can.

With heavy breaths, you sink into the bed after he pulls out of you and does the same. Drowsiness is quickly taking hold of you, sending your eyelids are fluttering shut once more mere seconds later while you recover from your high. Ushijima notices how spent you are and presses an appreciative kiss against your temple. You use the last of your energy to turn and face him so you can meet his lips with yours instead. “I love you, Wakatoshi,” you murmur softly, not even bothering to fully break the kiss before you speak, “Love you so much.”

His strong arms wrap around your weary body, pulling you closer to him so you can lazily drape an arm and leg around him as your head comes to rest on his chest. “I love you too, (f/n),” he whispers breathily, planting another kiss against the crown of your head. Once he’s pulled the covers up over your slightly sweaty bodies to keep you warm through the night, he allows his eyes to close so he can settle down to sleep before he continues, “More than anything else.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen​, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin​, @kac-chowsballs​, @osamusmiya​, @nit-sir-hc​, @arixtsukki​, @shinsurou

ushijima: @pretty-setters​, @misora-msby, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @atsunakaashi​, @heyhinata​, @cuddlysoftbear​

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #haikyuu smut #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #fran writes hq!! #tw somnophilia

[thestupidhelmet]

I really like your meta analyzing Hyde's sexuality through an acearo lens. Do you have any thought's on Fez's sexuality and gender? Even though it was play it out for laughs I find it hard to believe he isnt queer.

First, thank you!

As intended by the T7S writers, Fez isn't LGBTQ+. But characters can -- and should -- be interpreted by what's in the text and subtext, regardless of writer (or actor) intention. If it's on the screen (or the page), then it's on the screen.

I see him as sexually attracted only to women and possibly biromantic (the latter of which he's not aware of since in the 1970s that wasn't a concept people had). So he's bisexual, according to the definition Robyn Ochs put forth:

"The potential to be attracted – romantically and/or sexually – to people of more than one sex and/or gender, not necessarily at the same time, not necessarily in the same way, and not necessarily to the same degree.”

The word sexual in bisexual and its prefix bi tend to confuse people, and that confusion is one of several reasons why bi-erasure and biphobia exist within and without the LGBTQ+ community. But back to Fez.

Remember, I'm analyzing him based on his portrayal on the show, his actions, his choices, his dialogue, etc. A fanfic author can absolutely write an au!version of Fez where he's sexually attracted to any or as many genders as the author wishes. But canon!Fez does not display a sexual attraction to men, despite his erotic dream about Kelso.

Different kinds of attraction exist, however. He expresses an aesthetic attraction to each of his male friends at least once. He even explicitly states in "You Shook Me" (5x22) that "his appreciation for [Kelso's] beauty is purely aesthetic." Of course, people can say one thing while feeling another, but Fez's actions throughout the series validate his words.

He also seems to be attracted romantically to Kelso and to Hyde (at different points and at different intensities). This aspect of Fez is definitely a valid interpretation but not the only one. I happen to love intimately platonic affection and relationships, so I write Fez as heteroromantic but also as someone who comes from a culture where platonic affection between men isn't taboo; and, therefore, he didn't grow up experiencing accusations of homosexuality from peers as a child since holding hands with a male friend, for example, is normalized in his homeland, not grounds for suspicion.

As for Fez's gender, his gender expression on the show is certainly fluid. Not in the clothes he wears (with one exception: when he dresses up as Frank-N-Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show for Halloween) but in his body language and behavior. He comes across as hyper-masculine at times, feminine at others, in between the two at any point on the spectrum, as an undefined gender, etc.

His gender identity is also totally up for interpretation based on the text and subtext of the show. Again, in the 1970s people's understanding of gender was far more limited than it is now, so he wouldn't necessarily consciously identify as anything but cis male.

That being said, I see him as possibly being nonbinary, specifically demiboy fluidflux. One half of him (give or take) firmly identifies as male, but the other half exists on a spectrum anywhere from female to agender to an indefinable gender he just feels within himself. This non-male half can vary in intensity and in identity (or identities) at any given moment (hence, fluidflux).

He's clearly allosexual and alloromantic on the show.

#That 70s Show #That '70s Show #Fez #Michael Kelso #Steven Hyde #Ask #Anon #My Meta #My Essay #Meta #Essay

[moonyswolfie]

Baby

So it took me 3 days to write this and I’m actually really happy with how it turned out. It’s 2.1k words (I wasn’t planning on writing that much, to be honest, but it happened). It can be read as a sort of sequel to Love story, but it can be read separately as well and it makes perfect sense.

I really hope you like it and my requests are always open!

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: The full moon is tonight and, as usual, you join the boys in your Animagus form. What happens though, when you have trouble shifting?

Warnings: there are mentions of a fight and biting, but other than that none.

Missions for the Order weren’t always easy and more often than not, everyone would come back exhausted, cuts and wounds covering their bodies. It was normal though, part of your job, the duty you had for the Wizarding World.

You were pacing in front of the fireplace waiting for James and Remus to return.

The full moon would be up in a few hours and your fiancé hasn’t been himself for the last couple of days, which worried you. You knew, of course, that not every full moon affects him the same way and some might be more difficult than others, but you never minded it one bit. You were in for the long run, not just the good days.

You felt a wave of nausea take over you and rushed to the nearest bathroom. This happened more and more lately and you blamed it on the nerves. You were on edge, just as everyone working for the Order. You were at war and nothing was certain. You didn’t know if the last time you saw Remus would be the very last or if the next time you walked out the door you’d never come back.

Exiting the bathroom, you bumped into Lily, who gave you a sympathetic look.

“Again?”

“Just nerves. They’re not back yet.” you stated, yet you didn’t know who you were really trying to convince, Lily or yourself.

“I went through the same thing when I was pregnant with Harry. Maybe you should see a healer.” she shrugged and went to check on her baby, who was left in Sirius’ care.

Of course, there was a possibility. The first few times it happened, you dismissed it as food poisoning. When it didn’t seem to pass, you figured your emotions were playing you but now, you weren’t so sure anymore. You and Remus weren’t all that careful now that you were to get married, after all. You wanted a big family, you just hoped you’d live long enough to see it happening.

You decided you’d see a healer in the morning. Your priority tonight was the full moon.

*

A faint sound about an hour later stopped you in your tracks and you rushed to the entry hall to greet the boys. You let out a sigh of relief when your gaze landed on Remus, back in one piece with just a few scratches on his face, but your heart stopped when you saw James, nearly unconscious and leaning almost completely on his friend.

“What happened?” you breathed out just as Lily appeared behind you, letting out a scream of shock.

“Bloody hell, what happened?” she ran towards her husband, a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

You went to help Remus ease James onto a couch and Lily went to get the potions, ointments and bandages, all of your hearts beating erratically.

“M’alright, Lils, it’s nothing serious.” James said softly but tiredly, trying to calm his wife.

“We were ambushed. Lucius Malfoy and a few other Death Eaters appeared out of thin air and attacked us. We fought them off, but we never saw Bellatrix coming…” Remus recalled the encounter while you muttered a few healing spells.

Lily ran into the room once more, Sirius hot on her trail, both fussing now over the Potter boy. Your healing spells helped close the larger wounds on his body, but he was in no shape to join Remus tonight.

“M’sorry, Moony” he whispered, fighting off sleep.

“Don’t be stupid, James, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Remus was quick to assure his best mate and worriedly checked the clock “however, we do need to go if we want to make it to the woods on time.”

“Will you be okay, Lils?” you asked, concerned for your friend.

“Yes, go. The rest of the Order will be back from missions and patrols soon enough, so we won’t be alone much longer. Besides, there’s not much to be done now anyway.”

You nodded and gave her a hug, before getting up and following the boys out the front door and into the woods nearby. There was little time left before the moon would rise, so you made sure to hug and kiss your fiancé and assure him that you would be right there with him and that he won’t hurt you. He never did, even during the rougher moons. His wolf was always calmer in your presence, a fact that warmed your heart every time.

You let go of Remus and took a step back. The moon was out of its cloud cover. It was time.

The young werewolf let out a scream when his bones started cracking and rearranging themselves and you winced. It pained you every time to watch his transformations and you prayed it would be over soon.

Sirius came to stand next to you, his face telling you that he felt the same way you did watching his friend go through all that. But he wasn’t alone. He had you and he had Sirius.

“It’s time.” he said, and a moment later, Padfoot was wagging his tail next to you, ready to jump in if Moony became violent. It was your turn now.

You closed your eyes and thought of your animal form, repeating the incantation in your mind and –

Nothing.

No, that can’t be right.

You repeated the process two more times, and still, nothing happened. That’s when you started panicking. This has never happened before, what were you doing wrong?

A low growl made you freeze on the spot. You’ve never been afraid of Remus before and you certainly weren’t now, but the prospect of being human and facing Moony? That terrified you.

You backed away a few steps very slowly, trying your best to go unnoticed by the wolf, but it was no use, since his attention was directed towards you. Padfoot stepped in front of you in a heartbeat, but that only angered the wolf more and he jumped, landing on Sirius and biting him instantly.

You wanted to get between the two and push them apart, growl at Moony for attacking his best friend, but you were human and that made you feel useless. Your lover was attacking your friend and you couldn’t do anything about it!

As if sensing your emotions change, Moony stopped, getting off Padfoot’s inert body and faced you, heading almost cautiously in your direction. You moved backwards until your foot caught on a tree root and you fell unceremoniously to the ground. The wolf approached you, his eyes staring directly into your own. When he got within touching range, he took a long sniff before nuzzling into your stomach.

You were shocked, to say the least. You were expecting Moony to attack you , see you as a threat. Instead, the werewolf seemed almost…careful? Loving? You couldn’t quite place it.

You’ve read every book on werewolves you could find in the library during your school days and every one said the same thing – werewolves are murderous creatures and when affected by the full moon, they wouldn’t be able to distinguish friend from foe. They could kill their loved ones in a heartbeat without a glimmer of remorse.

So why was Moony so tame all of a sudden?

The short interaction lasted long enough for Sirius to regain consciousness and move towards the two of you, wanting to keep you safe at all costs. You’d barely had time to scream “stop” before Moony snarled in warning. Your voice halted Sirius in his tracks, yet you could see him itching to move forward.

The conversation you’d had with Lily a few hours prior passed suddenly through your brain.

I went through the same thing when I was pregnant.

You dismissed it for as long as you could, but there was your confirmation: Moony was making sure Padfoot wouldn’t get anywhere near you (and the baby he was probably scenting), for he marked the two of you as his own. And if you did know something about wolves, it was that they were very territorial, especially about their mates and cubs.

You were happy, truly. Ever since Harry was born, you and Remus wanted a little bundle of joy of your own, and now you had it.

You didn’t know, however, how it would affect your shifting.

“I’m alright, Pads. He won’t hurt me.” you said reassuringly.

Padfoot cocked his head to the side, doubt clear in his actions.

“He won’t hurt me, I’m sure of it. You can go back to the headquarters and have Lily tend to your wounds. I’m really sorry you got hurt tonight because of me, Sirius.” you whispered the last part, sadness coating your voice as a tear rolled down your cheek.

You looked up when you heard a scoff, just in time to see Sirius shift back to his human form. Moony tensed near you, ready to attack the intruder, but relaxed the instant you wrapped your arms around his body.

“S’alright, Moony. He’s a friend. He won’t hurt us, I promise.”

Still watching Sirius, Moony settled his huge body down with his head resting on your lap. You couldn’t help but smile at his actions.

“Don’t be daft, Y/N, I’m not going anywhere. But would you care to explain this?” Sirius gave you a bemused smile, pointing to the wolf cozying up into your tummy.

You let out a small laugh “I uh – I think I might be pregnant. It’s why I can’t turn…or at least I hope it is.” you said, still not quite wrapping your mind around it yourself.

Sirius broke into a huge grin “Congratulations! About time it happened” he finished with a small smirk, for which you stuck your tongue out at him.

He laughed and sat down, resting his back on a tree trunk, while Moony fell asleep, lulled by your addicting scent.

*

The morning sun was up in the sky and your fiancé was helping you clean and patch up Sirius’ wounds from the night before. He felt guilty and ashamed about his behavior even though his friend assured him it was all good. Werewolves are often unpredictable and you were all well aware of that when you decided to become Animagi to help him during the full moons.

He didn’t remember much from the hours he spent as a wolf and you hadn’t had a chance to tell him the news (which a healer confirmed for you first thing in the morning).

When you were done, you let Sirius rest and dragged Remus out of the room, in search of a more secluded space where you could talk without being overheard, as almost all of the Order members were currently at the headquarters.

“We need to talk.” you said, trying to keep a straight face, but a small smile was playing on your lips.

“What’s wrong, darling? Did I hurt you too last night? You – you didn’t say anything…” he asked, alarm taking over his entire body at the mere mention of you being hurt by him.

“You didn’t, Remus. I’m alright, more than alright, actually.” you said and took his hand in yours. “I’m pregnant, my love.”

You watched his face go through many emotions before settling on one: shock, disbelief, excitement and finally, pure happiness.

“We’re having a baby!” his arms enveloped your body as he buried his face in your neck.

“We are. That is why you acted out last night and attacked Sirius. It wasn’t your fault and he knows it, he doesn’t blame you. Please, stop feeling guilty about it.” you pleaded with him, hoping it would help him forgive himself.

He took a step back and seemed to be considering it. Tears of happiness were trailing down his cheeks, until his face took on a serious note.

“What if my condition will pass on to the baby?

“Then we’ll deal with it when the time comes.” you replied with confidence.

“Thank you, my love. You’ve made me the happiest man!” he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead, cheeks, nose and finally, he pressed a passionate kiss on your lips.

You giggled when he pulled away “I’m pretty sure it was a team effort, Remus.” He blushed which made you laugh harder and he joined in, before the two of you were interrupted by your nosy friends.

“Have you decided on the godparents yet?” you heard James ask from behind you before Lily hit his arm. “Ouch, what?”

“Why don’t we wait for Padfoot to wake up before we have this conversation? He’ll be very cross if he finds out we decided without him.” Remus suggested.

“Oh, there’s no need, I’m right here! Did someone say godparents?” Sirius shouted from around the corner which made the four of you laugh and shake your heads.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #fanfic #x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #sirius black #james potter #fluff #remus fluff #remus lupin fluff

[minimitchell]

Thank you! I’m the one who asked about a ballum ff and there is no rush at all. It would include smut but that’s ok no 🙂 It would be Ben & callum travelling in a night bus (to somewhere) and they’d be in the very back of the bus and none of the other passengers would notice their little action time (bottom Ben straddling callum). There’s no plot lol. Callum would actually be asleep and Ben waking him, hands already all over him/under his shirt and he would have some convincing to do for Callum to be on board with it. Or something like that. Could include some funny/embarrassing moments (for Callum).Tx! .. no need to post this maybe. 😇 Or just call it the night bus request. 🚌 💕

the fantasy of you and i keeps me up awake at night (ao3 link)

sorry it took a while, anon, but here we go. also this is so outside my normal comfort zone for smut but i'm hoping y'all enjoy it anyway.

.

Taking a bus from London to Amsterdam might easily be the worst idea they have ever had.

The worst part is that there isn’t even a solid reason for them doing this. It’s not like they can’t afford a flight to Amsterdam, they definitely can. But for some reason Callum somehow managed to talk him into taking a Flixbus across the channel, just to save a few bucks. We’re homeowners now, he said. We should save money where we can, he said.

Ben kind of hates how easily he folds when it comes to his husband.

They’re about halfway through the hours-long trip, somewhere in France in the middle of the night, and the already quite empty bus is dark and mostly silent, except for that one guy near the middle who’s snoring like a small chainsaw. It seems like all the passengers are dead asleep right now - everyone except for Ben that is.

Him and Callum are in the very last row of seats; Callum in the window seat and Ben next to him. There are rows of empty seats in front of them, all the way up to the middle portion of the bus, so at least there’s some illusion of privacy. It’s definitely better than the bus being filled to the brim.

Callum is turned towards the window, a sweater bundled together to rest under his head like a pillow. He always does this on long journeys and Ben isn’t jealous of it at all, no way. He just wishes he could fall asleep in a car or on a train or on a plane, but sadly he can’t. Not like his husband can.

Ben has never been able to sleep in a moving vehicle. Ever since he was little he just couldn’t do it. It’s always too loud or not dark enough or he isn’t comfortable enough to fall asleep. Which is a pretty unfortunate circumstance when you’re trapped in a bus for hours on end in the middle of the night.

At first, he tried doing other things to keep himself entertained. He watched some videos on his phone, bothered Jay until he obviously fell asleep himself and then tried just looking out the window at the French countryside. Nothing helped alleviate his boredom and he certainly wasn’t going to spend the rest however many hours just sitting around here.

He needed something to tire him out or at least keep him occupied for some time.

And he has just the idea what that could be.

Ben leans forward into Callum’s space, letting his hand run up and down Callum’s arm, slightly shaking to get him to wake up again. He can’t have been asleep for long, or in a deep slumber yet, because he starts twitching almost immediately; that familiar crease between his eyebrows appearing like it always does right before he wakes up.

“Babe? Babe. Cal, wake up.”

There’s only a groan as a response, but Ben can tell Callum is well on his way to consciousness right now. Even if he’s probably still hoping Ben will just leave him alone if he doesn’t engage.

“What?”

Callum turns around to face him, eyes still stubbornly closed; almost like he’s planning on falling back asleep once Ben has told him whatever he wants to say. Not if Ben gets his way though.

“I can’t sleep.”

Ben can feel more than hear the annoyed sigh Callum lets out at that. He cracks one eye open, peering down at Ben beside him, and whatever he finds must convince him he’s not going to go back to sleep for a while, because the next thing he does is sit up straighter, opening both of his eyes now.

He’s probably used to it after well over two years with Ben. His inability to fall asleep on the road has come up time and time again since they got together. At first, Callum thought it was a cute little quirk; like you always do when you’re first falling for someone and everything about them gives you butterflies.

He still gets them now, the butterflies, but by now Callum is probably more than aware of the fact that Ben’s sleeplessness when travelling affects him as well. Because Ben expects to be entertained by him, or at least for Callum to stay awake with him.

For the most part, Callum is fine with that seeing as they’re never really going anywhere one of them doesn’t drive to but on rare occasions like this one, it’s pretty damn grating. Callum definitely knows they’re both going to be tired and grumpy when they arrive in Amsterdam and that isn’t really how he wants to start this little getaway.

“Have you even tried?”

Ben rolls his eyes in the dark of the bus, only illuminated by the passing streetlights outside. He’s glad it’s not enough for Callum to see his expression; he needs to be on his best behavior if he wants to convince Callum of this idea in his head.

“You could help me fall asleep, you know.”

Ben’s hand runs over Callum’s thigh and dips lower to the inseam of his sweatpants, fingertips brushing against his dick over the soft fabric. Callum doesn’t turn away from the touch, but he does lift his thigh a little so that Ben’s hand dislodges from his place against his cock.

“Ben! No.”

“Come on. No one will notice.”

He leans in close to whisper the words into Callum’s ear, making sure to dart his tongue out and trace along the lobe for good measure afterwards. He’s not above pulling out all the stops to convince Callum to do this with him right now. It might have just been a quick throwaway idea, but the more he thinks about the possibility of it the hornier he finds himself getting.

His hand dips lower again; fingers dancing up and down Callum’s shaft. This time, Callum lets him continue his actions; his dick slowly but surely hardening under Ben’s touch.

“Absolutely not.”

Callum’s protest is weak, his voice already way too breathless to be taken seriously by Ben. If he really were against this, Ben would stop immediately. But he knows his husband pretty well and he can read his body like a book. Every little reaction is telling enough for Ben.

It’s all the go-ahead he needs.

“S’not what your dick says.”

As if to prove a point, Ben tightens his hand, reveling in the hard intake of breath Callum does in response to it. He can tell his husband is trying his hardest to keep the noises in. So much so that Ben almost lets the desire to coax each sound out of Callum overtake him, damning any embarrassing consequences it could bring.

“Because you keep, hm, keep touching it.”

Ben barely manages to keep his gleeful laugh in when Callum pushes his leg out, opening his thighs wider and giving Ben better access to his dick. It means he can crowd in even closer and twist his hand just right, now firmly holding onto his husband’s length. Callum’s head tips backwards against his seat, eyes closing against the onslaught of arousal.

The taught, white skin of his neck is too inviting for Ben not to lean down and attach his mouth to it, trailing up and down.

“Ben, we can’t. Not here.”

Callum leans far enough back to catch Ben’s eyes. Ben thinks he’s trying to look stern and he’d probably succeed if Ben didn’t have his hard cock in his hand right now. The least he can do is offer him some relief.

Ben’s free hand runs up Callum’s chest, his fingers playing with the collar of his dark blue sweatshirt. He presses his nose back up against Callum’s cheek, looking up at him from under his lashes. There’s a smile playing on his face that always seems to come so naturally to him whenever he’s with Callum, even if he’s trying to be sexy right now.

“We’ll be quiet.”

“You’ve never been quiet in your life during sex.”

It’s a good point. An extremely good point considering how many pointed comments they received that period of time they were living at Stuart and Rainie’s flat. Or from Lola before that. So yeah, Callum does have a point when he says he’s not the quietest person during sex.

And it’s not like he can talk as well. Callum is incredibly noisy when he wants to be. Or rather, when he lets himself be.

Maybe Ben just needs to take it up a notch in order to get Callum on board with this.

“It’ll be a laugh. Come on, I know you, baby. You like it a little dangerous. Out in the open. Remember, I know all your fantasies, babe.”

It’s true. Ben had an inkling that there was a secret exhibitionism kink hiding behind Callum’s big innocent giant act when he had no qualms about getting hot and heavy in the park during their first intimate encounter together, but he had no idea just how much Callum gets turned on by the chance of them being interrupted or heard by someone else.

He isn’t opposed to the odd quickie in the car lot or at the Arches when Ben is supposed to be working and anyone could walk in at any time. There are times he gets his husband so riled up with little comments and strategically placed touches that he drags Ben into the toilets in the Albert to give his mouth and hands something else to do. And they’ve even revisited that park once or twice to pay a little tribute to the thing that started it all between them.

So he knows perfectly well that the thought of doing anything here, where any other person on the bus could easily wake up and figure out what exactly they’re doing, must be quite exhilarating for Callum. He can’t really play the purity card when Ben can physically feel him growing harder at his hushed words.

Like he said, he knows Callum. They’re open and honest about what turns them on and off, what they like and dislike. No one has ever known him as intimately and deeply as Callum does and Ben knows it’s the same the other way as well. Ben loves that.

It also means that he can pinpoint the exact second Callum lets himself give in and shifts into what Ben teasingly calls his sexy mode. It’s a win for Ben, for sure.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Callum wraps his arm around Ben’s waist and tugs until Ben understands what he wants him to do. He sits himself square on Callum’s lap, legs resting on either side of Callum’s hips on the plush seats and fingers immediately finding a home in Callum’s hair, combing through the strands. He hasn’t had it cut in a while, too lazy to do it so close to their little holiday, and Ben can’t find the words to say just how much he loves it like this. He looks almost prince-like when it’s all soft and flat on his head and it’s the prettiest thing in the world to Ben.

“Thought you were gonna say I should be lucky I’m so fit.”

“Hm, that too.”

Callum’s smirk tastes a lot like bliss when their lips meet in a kiss, their tongues brushing almost immediately. Ben is trying hard to keep the sighs from escaping his throat, knowing they have to be quiet for this to go any further. But he can’t help it, kissing Callum is close to being the best thing he has ever gotten to do.

Even if he tried to convince himself otherwise at the time, Ben knew that first time they kissed each other that it was different with Callum; that it felt different with him. When their lips had met that night, he had felt it in his bones. Ben knows how rare it is to feel this way and Callum has never made him feel any different since.

Ben’s hands leave their place in Callum’s hair to travel down his chest, running over the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. He can feel the intake of breath Callum does when he reaches the edge of his sweatpants, fingers dipping under the waistband. Ben looks up to see if there’s any hesitation on Callum’s face, any sign that he isn’t one hundred percent on board with this, but Callum seems perfectly fine by the looks of it, with his eyes still closed like he wants to savor their kisses and the tips of his ears turning pink.

The grey fabric gets pushed down just enough for Ben to free Callum’s still hard cock, lazily sliding his fist up and down the shaft. Seeing Callum bite his bottom lip to refrain from making any noise at Ben’s actions fills him with a surge of heat that travels all throughout his body. Maybe they have to look more into this, if Callum’s inability to make much noise gets Ben so hot and bothered.

Right now though, he’s more concerned with getting himself undressed as well, just enough to get Callum in him. It’s a tight fit back here and Ben has to move around a fair bit to get his own pants far enough down to still be able to move on top of him. Ben has had sex in cars before so he knows how to maneuver himself, but a cramped seat on a bus is still vastly different from lying flat on your back in the backseat of a Ford.

They keep a small packet of lube in the side pocket of the backpack for situations just like this one and it turns out to be a godsend again and again, this time being no different. Ben is the first to admit he used to be a little bit slutty and while he doesn’t care for sex with anyone that isn’t Callum anymore, some remnants of that time in his life still remain. Remnants, for which having lube on hand at all times proves to be very helpful.

He’s glad Callum appreciates their spontaneity as well.

At any other time, Ben would let Callum open him up. His fingers are long and slender, thick enough to fill him just right, and they’re sure to drive him positively mad each and every time. Callum knows where and when to drag, to go fast or when to let Ben catch his breath to keep him teetering just on the brink.

But space is limited as it is and it’s easier for Ben to reach down and open himself up. Besides, seeing the way Callum’s face shifts into open hunger and desire as he watches Ben touch himself more than makes up for the lack of his husband’s fingers in him. There’s so much heat and open amazement for Ben in his eyes, it makes Ben breathless with want for the man in front of him.

The air around them feels thick and stuffy; charged in the best way possible. Ben keeps his lips firmly pressed together, effectively trapping in any sounds threatening to escape; his free hand digging into the skin of Callum’s biceps, making dents in the skin. They could easily be the only two people in this bus, in the world, right now. It feels like it; it always does.

Everything is zeroed down to just them when they’re together like this, like nothing else matters except for them making the other feel good. And he wants nothing more right now than to make Callum feel absolutely wrecked.

Ben detracts his fingers when he feels like he’s at least somewhat ready, reaching out to coat Callum’s dick with the excess lube on his hand. Before he can wrap his fingers around Callum’s length though, he’s stopped by a hand on his chest, causing him to catch his husband’s eyes almost immediately.

“Wait.”

Ben is about to climb down from Callum’s lap, thinking he has changed his mind about this and wanting to give him space, but Callum keeps him seated with a hand on his hip now. Instead, he’s leaning down himself, his other hand disappearing in the backpack still sitting in the space under their seat.

“What?”

The confusion doesn’t lift when Callum eventually finds what he must have been looking for, unearthing two condoms from somewhere in the bag. They obviously haven’t used condoms in ages but they still keep some just in case. Better than throwing them away, right? Ben just doesn’t understand what Callum wants with them now.

“I’m not about to get cum on this bus. And neither are you.”

Ben doesn’t really care about it, but he’s not going to start arguing with his husband when he’s this close to getting lucky. Callum could probably ask him to wear a clown costume and Ben would do it if it meant he’d get fucked by Callum in a timely manner. He’s that whipped for his husband’s dick.

He lets Callum roll the condom onto his dick, suppressing the moan clawing itself up his throat when Callum runs his fingers up and down the length of it for good measure. Maybe having to be completely silent while he’s getting laid is going to be more difficult than Ben had first thought.

Before Callum can put the condom on himself though, Ben stops him to do the honors himself, coating Callum’s dick with the excess lube still covering his other hand. He sinks down as slowly as he can, almost drawing blood from how hard he’s biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet.

The fabric of Callum’s sweatpants is a stark contrast to his smooth skin and the feeling is simultaneously alien and exhilarating. They don’t have a lot of clothed sex, not like this anyway, and the almost foreign feeling against his bare ass is another stimulant for Ben’s already overloaded brain, all mixing together to create a mess of heightening arousal.

Ben eventually bottoms out, head tipped back and mouth open on a silent gasp. He can feel Callum’s heaving breaths where he’s pressed against him, his chest rising and falling in quick tempo.

“You good?”

Callum mumbles the words into Ben’s own shirt, pressed against his sternum. He sounds wrecked from just those two, little words; out of breath and completely wild. It’s one of the best sounds Ben ever got to hear; topped among other things only by Callum’s uninhibited moans when Ben makes him feel especially good.

Ben’s head tips back forward to nod at his husband, sealing their mouths back together when he begins to move. The rise and fall of his hips pushes sounds from him that he stifles by pressing his firmly-closed lips against Callum’s with all his might. Callum’s hands are fisted in Ben’s shirt, bunching up the back and wrinkling the dark red fabric.

It’s fucking good - it always is with Callum, better than anything he’s known before - but when Callum moves to adjust their bodies to meet Ben’s thrusts halfway, it becomes a little too good. On the next down movement, Callum thrusts up as well and the subtle change in their position means he’s now able to hit deeper, nudging right against that spot that makes Ben see stars.

Callum must be able to sense what this is doing to Ben, must be able to read his body and its tells better than he does himself, because he reaches around to clamp a hand over Ben’s mouth, pushing one finger in for Ben to bite down on it, nipping the scream that’s about to topple out of his mouth in the bud before it can be unleashed.

It would be a miracle if no one heard his moan, even muffled by Callum’s hand over his mouth, and Ben thinks they can really count themselves lucky if they didn’t manage to wake anyone up with it. He’d be more preoccupied with it, if he weren’t so trapped in the feeling of pure pleasure overtaking every nerve-ending in his body.

He’s panting hot against Callum’s hand now; heat spreading in his belly to announce his impending orgasm hurtling closer and closer. It doesn’t feel fair to Ben that he’s the only one struggling to contain his moans though; he thought Callum would have a lot more difficulties holding back.

It’s a good thing he knows Callum better than anyone; knows exactly what makes him lose control. It’s definitely a dirty trick to play but the whole reason they’re doing this right now is because they like it a bit dirty, right? So Ben doesn’t exactly feel bad when he lets one of his hands wander down to Calum’s chest, expertly finding his left nipple. He clamps his other hand over Callum’s mouth before he pinches his fingers, reveling in the way Callum’s hips involuntarily buck upwards in response.

Callum lightly bites the palm of his hand in retaliation and Ben can’t help but smile at it, even in the midst of heavy passion. He just really loves it when Callum is being silly and playful with him. Especially during sex.

The smile quickly dies down though when Callum’s free hand wraps around Ben’s cock, setting a punishing rhythm. Ben isn’t sure when this became seeing who can make the other come first, but he isn’t complaining. Not at all.

Not when it means he gets to feel that burning sensation take over his entire body, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the waves of his climax wash over him. He must pinch Callum’s nipple again in his haze of pleasure, because he bucks into Ben again once, twice before he’s also coming. The hand that just moments ago had coaxed Ben’s orgasm out of him now snakes around his middle to pull him closer into Callum’s body.

They’re so close they might as well be one entity, one sole person. Their hands fall from each other’s mouths, wrapping around any skin they can reach to unite the two of them in a tight hug. Ben tucks his head into the crease of Callum’s neck, waiting until the tremors subside and their breathing returns to a normal pace.

It takes a lot longer than Ben would like to admit for him to regain the feeling in his legs enough to dismount and fall into the seat beside Callum again. He has just enough brainpower to take the condom off and tie it, thankful for Callum taking it off of him because he would have no idea how or where to get rid of it right now.

He pulls his pants and underwear back up, trying to make himself look at least a bit presentable, but his movements feel slowed down; his limbs already being pulled under the mantle of sleepy exhaustion.

Ben is still too out of it to notice what exactly Callum does to get rid of the condoms but whatever it is, it only takes him a few moments until he leans back into the seat, putting on his own clothes again as well.

“You okay, darlin’?”

“Hm. Tired.”

Callum lets out a quiet chuckle, pulling Ben into his side, letting him tuck himself into his body. He’s definitely all too aware of the fact that Ben always conks out almost immediately after sex and Ben feels his eyes fall shut as soon as his head is pillowed on Callum’s chest.

The last thing he’s conscious of is Callum pressing a kiss to his forehead, mumbling something about getting Ben to shut up, before finally, finally, falling asleep for the remainder of their journey.

He’ll have to keep this in the back of his mind for the ride back.

#ballum #ballum fic #my wriring #posting this now to hopefully get over that block i have about my bb

[ssaseaprince]

Will flinches away from Hannibal during an argument (angst & hurt/comfort)

(I LOVED the other request you wrote!!)

Sorry this took so long to get out, it ended up quite a bit longer then I originally intended but I hope you like it ! Also thank you so much <3

The first couple months after the fall had been rough, physically, having to go into hiding while their bodies were on mend. Hannibal's wounds, gruesome as they were, healed relatively quickly and without much fuss. Will on the other hand, had almost died. He had taken a stab to the shoulder, which shouldn’t have been the problem that it was, except that it got infected. He was stuck on the brink of death for quite a long time, and then spent the month after he was stabilized in and out of consciousness, high on painkillers. Hannibal had always been good at working and functioning under pressure, which was good because if he hadn’t been they probably would have died. The first time Will had come to full consciousness, however, Hannibal was a wreck. He’d cried then. Not a soft trickle of a few tears, but gut-wrenching sobs full of shaking shoulders and an ocean full of tears. Will cherished that memory, as he did with every memory of Hannibal crying. They made him human, seem more touchable. The first time he had cried in front of Will, they had been standing on the cliff right before they fell, and the next time was when Will had first woken up. He cried when Will spoke for the first time too, so long after the fall. The first time they made love, Will’s neck was wet with his tears. When Will said “I love you” the first time.

Will never took Hannibal as someone who cried very often, and he never had been. That was until the fall, until Will. The fall had been a rebirth for both of them, it didn’t only symbolize Will’s becoming. And then Will had gotten sick and Hannibal had almost lost him, and Hannibal was again reminded how precious life really is, and how easy it would be to lose him. They both made it through, but all the walls and forts between them had crumbled, and they were left exposed to each other. There wasn’t any reasoning or any point in trying to put them back up, because by then their souls were permanently intertwined. Will could read him no matter what anyways, so things like silence and shouting were equally expressive. Hannibal still didn’t cry a lot by any means, but he did cry (genuinely, cry) now on occasion, whereas he hadn’t really ever before.

They didn’t fight much. Of course they got on each other's nerves at times and had tendencies to snap at one another when they were irritated, but actual full blow fighting and arguing was extremely rare.

Today wasn’t like that though.

It was about two years after the fall, and they had finally settled down in Lakonia, an administrative region of Greece that’s in the southeastern part of the Peloponnese peninsula. They’d eventually been officially declared dead, and the last year and a half had been good. Both were more than content to let the past mostly stay where it was and move forward, and their days blended together in a mix of hunting and domesticity. They’ve been happy, but they out of anyone should know how easily the calm can be shattered.

It started like it had before. Sleepwalking, gradual hallucinations, losing small bits of time. Will knew what it was, but he avoided telling Hannibal about it. He supposes he was scared, scared to lose the peaceful (peaceful in their own way) domesticity they had settled into. Scared of how it would affect their relationship. Hannibal had changed a lot since the fall and since his time in prison, and Will knew logically he didn’t need to worry. But the nightmares were full of flashbacks to ticking lights and needles, and he grew more and more distant, and Hannibal’s concerned eyes followed him everywhere.

It shouldn’t have taken him as long as it had to realize it, so when he finally did Hannibal was disgusted with himself. Will had been deliberately hiding it from him, but still, he felt he should’ve noticed sooner. Anti-NMDAR Encephalitis was known to be recurrent. It was extremely important that Will got treatment as soon as possible, especially since he had gone so long without it last time. The only option Hannibal had was to confront him.

That all led up to now. Their first real fight since the fall.

“Your health is of the utmost importance Will, you cannot be keeping things like this from me.” Frustration leaking into his tone, Hannibal leaned against the kitchen counter. Will was sitting across from him on a barstool, nursing a glass of whiskey. Will was annoyed, he knew he shouldn't be annoyed but he was. He knew Hannibal was just concerned, but it felt overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but wonder how genuine the concern was. The past couple of weeks he found himself falling back into old thinking patterns, reminiscing about the past. He knew the Hannibal in front of him was completely different then the Hannibal he had first met, but he couldn’t help but to compare his abundance of concern now to the great lack of care he had before.

He grimaced, “Well I don’t need you freaking out. I can take care of myself, always have.”

“For the most part, yes, you can. But you aren’t doing a good show it right now, Encephalitis is life threatening if left untreated, you are aware of that. You cannot just ignore it.” Hannibal’s usual calm façade was slowly slipping. “With everything you've been through, you’re honestly willing to die by a treatable disease? You’re not stupid, Will.”

Taking another drink of his whiskey, he rolled his eyes. The alcohol was making his thoughts fuzzy, but goddamnit was he too sober for this.

“I wasn’t going to let it go on forever Hannibal, you’re right, I’m not that fucking stupid. You’re just overreacting and being dramatic, like always.” He raised his glass to take another drink only to have it roughly pulled from his grasp.

Looking up, he glared at the man across from him. “What the fuck Hannibal?”

Hannibal's calm was practically nonexistent at this point, and he slammed the glass down on the other side of the counter before looking back at Will. “Are you so insistent on being self destructive? You’re acting like a child Will, refusing help.”

Will let out a loud, overexaggerated sigh. His voice was rough when he spoke, the tone of it slowly rising. “Well what am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can just walk into a hospital and ask them to help me treat a rare disease that I’m known for having had before. Maybe I’ve just been trying to figure out what to do, I’m not completely incompetent you know.”

Hannibal’s clenched fists rested on the counter. “You could ask for help! We could get the right supplies and treat you, without needing to go to the hospital. You know that, you are just being unnecessarily difficult.”

Will stood, the stool pushed behind him as he glared at Hannibal. “Yeah well maybe I don’t want your help, you don’t exactly have the best track record of making good medical decisions for me.”

Hannibal’s next words came out in a raised voice, not exactly a yell, but they seemed to take up all the air from the room. “I am not going to stay here and watch you kill yourself. I’d thought better of you Will, but if that’s how you chose to act I am not going to stay here for it.”

And Will flinched.

The small, unconscious action sent Hannibal reeling, as he looked back over what he had just said. He didn’t think of himself as an impulsive person, he didn’t think he was the kind of person who said things they didn’t mean out of anger, but Will seemed to bring that out in him. He and Will were so far beyond lies and manipulation, they were rarely things that were worried about within their current relationship. But watching Will so blatantly refuse to take care of himself, putting himself in danger by refusing help, was unbearable. So he threw out the first thing he thought of to get Will’s attention, for him to realize just how serious he was. He’d never leave him, they’d consummated their marriage in the depths of the ocean, and an infinite amount of times over since then.

It took him a minute to grasp what he had even said as he stared at Will across the kitchen. It was such a preposterous thing to think, let alone say that it took him a moment to understand the words had actually come out of his mouth. Will had frozen up, and Hannibal could almost see the walls being thrown up and forts being built, and it sent a pang of icy dread through his heart.

“I’m not refusing treatment, I just needed time to get used to the idea of you helping me, since you’re the reason I almost died last time. And here I was feeling bad because I was thinking you’re not like that anymore.” Will wasn’t glaring at him anymore, but his body language was rigid and the words he spoke were flat. “If you’re going to leave, just leave Hannibal, you don't need to find excuses to. You can cut the act.”

“Will.. “ The words seemed stuck in his throat as he said them. “I didn’t mean that.”

‘No, just go. If you think so low of me then just leave. Don’t want you feeling obligated to take care of me, since ya know, I obviously can’t take care of myself.” And with that, Will turned to leave, grabbing his keys and starting to put on his coat. He wasn’t full on drunk, but tipsy enough that he swayed slightly when he walked.

“Will, you don’t have to go.” Hannibal grabbed his arm gently, turning him to look at him. “You’re too intoxicated to drive right now.”

Will shook his head and roughly pulled his arm away. He needed to be alone and it irritated him that Hannibal was telling him what to do, but he had to accept his logic. And driving after he'd been drinking wouldn't fare well in the argument that he could take care of himself. “Fine, then you can get the fuck out.”

“Will…” Hannibal’s voice was soft, “I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t care, just get out. At the very least just give me some space.”

Hannibal didn’t want Will to feel more pushed, but he had to add, “alright, but don’t drink anymore. It will worsen your condition. Please, Will.”

Will sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, whatever. Just go.”

Hannibal nodded and stepped away, he got his own coat and pulled the front door open. Hesitating, he turned back and looked at Will, who was staring at the floor. “Please be safe.” Will just waved his arm indicating that he should go, and with that, Hannibal stepped out onto the porch and then closed the door.

Will was exhausted, his head was throbbing and his eyes stung. With Hannibal gone, the tears finally began to steadily fall from his eyes. After a while of standing there, staring at the front door, he ended up stripping down to his boxers and laying down in their bed. Penelope, their little King Charles Spaniel puppy, watched him from the doorway. A few minutes later, she was picked up and snuggled in Will’s arms on the bed. Hannibal hadn’t wanted a dog, but he accepted that living with Will meant they were bound to get one. He tried to be apathetic towards her when Will first brought her home, a scrawny little stay, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable. The little dog followed him everywhere now, and they ended up bonding very quickly. Will had even joked that Hannibal liked Penelope more than him. As he held her and pressed his face against her fur, Will thought back on those memories fondly.

His mind palace was nowhere near as vast or intricate as Hannibal’s, but he still had memories there that he clung to. Closing his eyes, Will went back to the ones he cherished the most.

The tears that had clung to Hannibal’s lashes, barely visible in the dark of the night after they killed the dragon.

The sobs that came from Hannibal’s lips when Will had first woken up.

The few drops that fell from his eyes when Will had spoken to him for the first time in his recovery.

The little gasps of breath that had accompanied the multitude of fallen tears that came the first time they made love (calling it anything else wouldn’t encompass it enough).

When Will had said “I love you” to him the first time and silent rivers had run down his cheeks as he’d smiled so vibrantly it was hard to look at.

He knew Hannibal hadn’t meant it, that he was just frustrated and fed up and worried. They wouldn’t survive separation, and Hannibal needed Will just as much as Will needed Hannibal, they needed each other to live. He knew Hannibal loved him, his love was as real and tangible as those tears he’d cried.

Will loved their lives, and he didn’t want anything to cause a rift in that. He trusted Hannibal and he knew he would take care of him and help him to the best of his abilities. But to see his concern in comparison to the first time he got sick, was jarring, and Will almost didn’t know how to handle it. Hannibal had turned himself in and spent three years in jail for Will, and he was sure if he decided he wanted to go to the hospital to get treated, even if it risked exposing them, Hannibal would take him in a heartbeat. It shouldn’t be, but the depth of Hannibal’s affection for him was still surprising at times.

Will acknowledged that being worried about Hannibal’s reactions to him being sick was justified, and that there would probably always be times where the trust between them wavered because of the past, but he knew Hannibal wouldn’t ever leave.

He’d call Hannibal in the morning he decided, give them both time to calm down. And with that last thought, he tried to sleep for the night.

When the sun came up, Will was thankful. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, fighting off nightmares when he did manage to sleep. More than once he found himself reaching out to the other side of the bed for Hannibal, only to find that he wasn't there. Getting up, Will put on a simple plain shirt and pair of sweatpants and went to make coffee. Their coffee maker had been outrageously expensive, but Hannibal had insisted on it, and it ended up being worth it. Now, looking at the stupidly expensive coffee maker brought Will a strong feeling of longing. Hannibal had only been gone a night and Will felt like he was already falling apart. Calling Penelope to come with him, Will picked up his phone and decided to sit on the porch to call Hannibal, deciding that the fresh air would do him some good. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he just needed him back.

Will wasn’t someone who was very jumpy at all, but when he opened the front door and turned to see Hannibal sitting with his back against the house, Will startled so badly he almost dropped his phone.

Hannibal turned at the sound of the door opening and looked up at Will with puffy eyes and red cheeks dried with tears. Internally, Will sighed. He looked like he’d been there all night. Wordlessly, Will reached down and pulled Hannibal to his feet and then brought them both inside. He helped Hannibal get off his coat and then stripped them both down to their boxers, before pulling them in their room and into bed. They curled up around each other, Will’s face pressed against Hannibal's chest and Hannibal's arms around him, running his fingers through Will’s hair. They laid in silence together for a while, just counting each other's breaths and heartbeats.

Eventually, Hannibal broke the silence, his voice raspy and quiet. “I’m sorry.”

Will took a breath before answering.

“I’m sorry too.”

Pressing his face into Will’s curls, Hannibal's breathing hitched. “I wouldn’t ever leave you, not again.”

“I know Hannibal,” Will responded. He pulled back a little so they were looking at each other. Hannibal’s eyes were wet with tears as he looked back at him.

Leaning forward, Will kissed away the few droplets of water that had escaped.

“I was going to tell you, I just needed to work up to it.’

Hannibal was silent for a moment before he replied. “I understand your hesitation. If you wish to go to the hospital and be treated there, we can go. There would be a risk, but we can make it work if that is what you want.”

Will shook his head. “I want you to treat me. I just needed to get out of my head.” He smiled at the terrible pun, watching to see if Hannibal would react.

He didn’t, continuing to stare at Will mutely.

Will sighed, again. “Help me, Hannibal. Please?”

Hannibal nodded at that, pressing his forehead against Will’s, wet cheeks brushing against dry ones.

“Of course beloved. Anything you want.”

Will filed away the memory into his memory palace, and placed it with all of the other times Hannibal had cried for him. Beautiful reminders of his humanity.

“I love you, Hannibal.”

“I love you too Will, always.”

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #hannibal fanfiction #fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #Anon #anon request #fanfiction requests

[belit0]

Hi. If you're taking requests, more A/B/O hashiizu? Heat sex and soft aftercare?

Yessss, HashiIzu is such a beautiful pairing 💘😌

Hashirama is truly a very thoughtful partner. Always ready for when his grumpy little Omega needs something, the Senju keeps his Alpha senses constantly alert to detect any change in Izuna.

Which is why he is utterly shocked when the mark the Uchiha left on his neck upon deciding to be mates throbs, burn, sting?

He never failed to predict one of his Omega’s heats, staying glued to him for whenever his mate instinctively needed to lift his butt in the air and shamelessly offer his slit to be knotted.

But apparently, the pile of work Tobirama had been leaving on his desk without fail throughout the week kept him distracted enough to ignore Izuna’s clear signs of heat.

If the mark his Uchiha had left on him was on fire and causing him pain, Hashirama couldn’t even imagine what the Omega would be physically experiencing in the absence of his Alpha.

Responsibilities are quickly forgotten, and the Senju doesn’t even distinguish what his younger brother is yelling at him as he runs.

Izuna’s whimpers are audible even from the front door.

Omega’s scent is everywhere as he goes in, finding him in the master bedroom shortly after.

Izuna is unabashedly offering his entrance, kneeling on the bed as his chest lies flat against the mattress.

One of Hashirama’s favorite robes is tightly secured between his mate’s hands, the Uchiha burying his face in the garment to somehow feel his Alpha.

His Omega’s tail penetrates him, fucking himself as desperate cries leave his chest.

As his eyes watch Izuna’s tail slip in and out of him, the sweet, burning scent of his little Uchiha is like an aphrodisiac, making him instinctively growl. He needs to claim what's his.

“Alpha! Alpha! Knot!”

Izuna’s consciousness is absent as in all his heats, experiencing the most animalistic urges firsthand without rationalizing them.

His body demands Alpha’s knot, to be bred and filled until they achieved pure satisfaction.

“Dammit, Izuna, pull that away from there.”

Hashirama snarls with unbecoming anger as he approaches his Omega, grabbing his tail and yanking it out from inside him.

Only then does his needy mate’s eyes lock onto him, his ass quickly turning in his direction as both hands lift him off the bed.

Izuna’s stare is completely red and filled with arousal, sticky fluid dripping from his entrance and sliding down his thighs.

“Alpha! Alpha!”

There is no way any meaningful sentences are coming out of the Uchiha in this state, and Hashirama wastes no time trying. His clothes quickly flow down his body, an erection ready to do its job leaping into the show.

Entering Izuna when his heat comes is always deliciously easy, his body’s natural lubrication too permissive not to take complete advantage.

The Senju’s teeth close over his Omega’s neck as his cock reaches deep inside him, his mate curving beneath him and pressing his ass against his pelvis to get more more and more.

Hashirama can’t help but groan, not when moving within his Uchiha makes all his skin bristle.

“Like that Omega? Right this way is how you like it, yeah?”

Senju growls as he licks the blood he caused to gush where his teeth dug in too hard, Izuna screaming delightfully beneath him and unable to open his eyes.

“More Alpha! More!”

Fulfilling his partner’s every whim, pace quickening, and the brutality of his thrusts becoming untamable, the Omega collapses on the bed beneath him.

Understanding the physical exhaustion Izuna must experience because of all the hormones, the Senju pulls out from inside him and lies down on the bed, maneuvering the other to lie on his chest.

Uchiha is on the verge of tears at the lack of his cock, and Hashirama could eat him whole for being such a good little Omega. His ego is in the air.

“Sh, Alpha’s got you, Alpha’s taking care of it.”

His member finds room inside his mate yet again as Izuna buries his face in his neck, hands desperately holding his big shoulders in need of something to squeeze.

Hashirama’s palms grasp the slender waist of his Omega, his hands being so large compared to the tiny Uchiha it’s almost possible to enwrap his hips in his grasp.

Izuna screams and moans in his ear, demanding more and more, asking for greater speed and force, unable to get up and mount his Alpha because of fatigue.

Senju makes good on his promise to take charge, fucking the Uchiha at his own overwhelming pace.

Uchiha bites his neck as the knot forms inside him, needing to sense his Alpha’s release and be trapped with him until his seed is absorbed all the way.

Hashirama’s orgasm takes several seconds of ecstasy, Izuna simultaneously feeling himself come multiple times because of the heightened sensitivity of his state.

Omega’s teeth release his mate’s neck as consciousness slowly returns to him, eyes fading to pitch black.

Neither moves, waiting for the Senju’s knot to disappear before separating. Alpha’s hands make lazy, warm patterns on his Uchiha’s back as a smile involuntarily takes possession of his face.

“It took you long this time, Senju... I could punch you just for forgetting, you know...”

Hashirama knows awareness came back to Izuna as his grumpiness appears, always threatening to hit him or set him on fire. Uchihas.

“How long do we have until the next round, Izu?”

“Drop that awful nickname! ... a few minutes, I think.”

Knot vanishes and the Alpha can break free, slipping out of his mate’s insides as the latter moans involuntarily.

Without moving from the position in which he holds Izuna, Hashirama reaches down and grabs his robe.

With the garment he wipes his Omega’s legs, drying the slick fluid spreading on his body. He swipes it between his legs, making sure the Uchiha is as comfortable as possible before the action resumes.

Izuna remains motionless against his chest, on the verge of falling asleep as he hugs Hashi’s neck and allows him to wipe him dry.

When clean, the Senju rubs any areas of his body he can reach, while depositing soft kisses on the Uchiha’s head.

He strokes the base of Izuna’s tail, feeling how his Omega purrs and settles even further into his chest.

“I love you, Izuna.”

“Me... too... Senju.”

Words sound stifled by how the Uchiha hides his lips against Hashirama’s skin, and even though he understood what his mate tried to say, he always likes to hear it.

“What was that?”

“I said I love you too, Hashirama.”

Izuna deposits a quick kiss on the man’s lips, who embraces him as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world. Embarrassed for showing affection so explicitly, he goes back to hiding in his mate’s chest.

“You know, when your heat month is over we could take a vacation, travel. How about we start our own family? That would be nice, wouldn’t it? We’d have to-“

There’s no time to say anything else as Izuna incorporates on top of him, sitting on his now flaccid member. His eyes are completely red again, and a vicious expression adorns his features.

Consciousness has clearly abandoned him again.

“Alpha...”

“Fuck...”

#hashirama senju #izuna uchiha #hashiizu #hashirama #izuna #uchiha izuna #senju hashirama #abo au #alpha hashirama #omega izuna #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines

[thdorkmagnet]

Light of the Sun and Stars chapter 43: The Hand of Fate (Preview)

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: What would you do for a second chance, Marco Diaz?

A/N: Hi yes I’m still alive!! Sorry this chapter is taking so long, I was sick with Covid in January and everything got delayed and I’ve been having to focus on recovering. I’m doing much better now but my energy levels still aren’t quite what they used to be. Anyways thanks for the patience, hope you enjoy the preview!

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Index

The first thing Marco was aware of as he opened his eyes was the fog that clouded his mind. His head felt like it was underwater, his consciousness swimming in and out of reality, making it difficult to focus. It took him a few seconds to even realize he was laying down. He squinted his eyes, his vision unnaturally blurry, like his eyes had forgotten how to work for a brief period of time. Marco off-handedly wondered if he should be concerned about all this but the fear was quickly swallowed by the fog. Marco didn’t move at first, his limbs were too heavy, so instead he just lay and bed and waited for his head to clear. After a good minute, the fuzziness in his brain started to die down and his vision cleared enough for him to get a good look at his surroundings. 

That’s when he realized he wasn’t in his bed. 

Marco sat up quickly, causing his head to spin again but that was the least of his concerns as he looked around the dark room he had woken up in. The boy panted nervously a few times, his heart hammering against his chest in fear when he realized he knew this room. It was his room at Buff Frog’s cottage. The boy rubbed his eyes a few times, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things but another quick glance around the silent room confirmed it. He was in the Monster’s cottage. 

“How did I…” Marco whispered softly, perplexed by this strange situation. He tried to remember how he could have ended up there but his mind was drawing a blank. He recalled Star and him watching the sunset together like always and Star’s sweet kiss goodnight when they parted ways, his girlfriend turning in early out of exhaustion over the day’s activities. He had hung out with Jackie and Janna for a bit, the two girls teaching him how to play some Earth card game called “poker”, although apparently poking your opponent was not part of the rules. Janna was incredibly good at the game and had beaten both Jackie and him with ease. After that, he had told Daisy and Violet a quick goodnight story before heading to his own bed, tired but satisfied with his day.  The last thing he remembered was settling under the warm sheets in his bed at Butterfly Castle. 

So how had he gone from there to here. Marco frowned, looking around the room in confusion. That was when something new caught his eye. All his stuff from the castle was here too, as if the situation wasn’t strange enough already. Normally his room at Buff Frog’s place was more or less bare, it was more a glorified place to sleep than anything else, since Marco spent most of his time there with the Monsters. So how had all his stuff been moved there overnight? 

Marco realized laying around in bed was not getting him anywhere, he needed to investigate this mystery further. He hopped out of bed and moved over to his open closet, pulling down one of his prized hoodies. He examined it for a moment but couldn’t find anything off about it, as far as he could tell it was the same set of hoodies he normally wore. He slipped it on without a second thought, not caring he was still in his PJ’s underneath. He was starting to get freaked out and needed some sense of comfort, and since Star wasn’t here one of his hoodies would just have to do.

Marco creaked open the door to his room, trying to make as little noise as possible. He looked around the empty hallway for any signs of life but saw nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, something felt off to him, something about this whole thing just wasn’t quite right. It took him a few second to put him finger on it but when it finally came to him, the surrelness of it all left him stumped. It was too quiet. Normally, Buff Frog’s cottage was always full of some kind of chatter between the many Monsters that lived there. At all hours of the day he would always be able to hear Beard Deer and Lobster Claws arguing about something or Big Chicken’s clucking or Bearicorn’s atrocious singing, not even the loud snoring of Potato Baby as he went about his day. But now there was nothing. Just silence. And it unnerved Marco.

But then as if some force of the universe had read his mind, his ears picked up a small sound echoing through the barren hallway. Humming. Someone was humming. And from the sound of it, it was a woman’s voice. Now Marco’s interest was thoroughly peaked and his need to investigate won over his growing anxiety instantly. Taking a deep, calming breath, Marco ventured out into the hallway, slowly tip-toeing in the direction he thought the humming was coming from.

From what he could tell, it seemed like it was coming from downstairs and Marco tried to quietly creep that way. But to his surprise, he picked up on something he had missed before. The hallway was smaller somehow. Before, Buff Frog and the Monsters had made enough rooms so that any Monster who wanted one could have one. But now the hallway had been shortened and the number of rooms cut down significantly. There were only four rooms upstairs now, counting his, and Marco was beginning to wonder if he was still dreaming. It certainly would make more sense than his dad’s house being reconstructed overnight. Marco slowly descended the staircase, his thoughts and heartbeat racing with each step.

The humming grew louder and he tried to place a face with the voice but his mind was drawing a blank. It was clearly a woman’s voice and something about the tone reminded him of Lily when she was putting Daisy and Violet to bed. There was something instantly soothing about the simplistic melody, almost like… he had heard it before? The woman’s voice as well, was oddly familiar, some distant memory tugging at the back of his mind although he couldn’t quite see it yet.

He reached the final step of the staircase and gazed over to the kitchen, finally spotting the source of the humming. A woman stood by the oven, her back to him as she fiddled with sizzling pans full of delicious smelling food, her hands working quickly to cook the meal. Marco could only stare at her in shock, wondering why and how some strange woman had snuck into his dad’s home to cook breakfast. His head spun with questions as he wondered what the right course of action was here, he had never been taught what to do in this kind of situation. 

So he did the first thing that came to mind, he spoke to her. “Hello?” he called in a tiny voice which shook from nerves and confusion. 

The woman stopped what she was doing and slowly turned to face him. Marco could see the confusion in her eyes before a warm smile widened on her face as she spotted him. There was a small flash of recognition there, although Marco couldn’t say the same since he was still sure he had never seen this person in his entire life. Although, some deeper part of his mind seemed to be trying to tell him something though he had yet to determine what as it fought to escape the fog. 

“Good morning, Marco. Did you sleep well?” the woman said as she cleaned her hands on the fancy apron she was wearing, her tone bright and she spoke with a level of familiarity that sent Marco’s head spinning. 

“Do I… know you?” the hooded teen asked, an eyebrow slowly raising. Those words must have triggered something because he felt the memory fight harder to free itself, but the fog clung tightly and refused to let go. 

The woman seemed surprised by this response, her head cocking to the side to observe him and her eyebrows pinching together in worry. “What do you mean, sweetie?” she asked.

Sweetie, Marco thought, now feeling even more confused. And the memory fought harder. Marco tried to ignore the battle going on in his brain as he asked, “Did my dad hire you or something?”

The woman laughed at this, her voice light and achingly familiar and it made Marco’s heart clench for reasons his mind had yet to decipher. “Marco, you aren’t making any sense,” she said and her eyes shined with some form of affection that felt completely foreign to Marco. “Is this some kind of game?”

Marco felt the memory strain to get free, tearing at the fog as it tried to push itself to the front of his mind. He opened his mouth to reply but the word froze there, he was too confused to speak. Some part of him told him to observe the woman and he began to pick up on small details, auburn hair, green eyes, pink cheekmarks. Okay that’s a good starting point, he told himself. Now focus on those things.

Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail but it did little to stop the unruly curls. Her eyes were warm and inviting and some deep part of him seemed to recognize the stare. Her stare. And her cheekmarks were-

The fog finally broke under the weight of the memory as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. No, it couldn't be, he told himself, unable to believe who was standing before him. He nearly chocked on a sob as he managed to say in a small, broken voice the word he had been longing to say his entire life. 

“Mom!”

#star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Light of the Sun and Stars #Starco #Preview #this is gonna be an interesting chapter

[cyclone-rachel]

i loved you yesterday || a wandavision fic

AO3 link

~

Vision came into consciousness- awoke- into this world loving her.

Loving Wanda- his wife, even if he can’t remember when they got married, or what they were wearing, how the proposal went.

He’s not even sure who proposed, or what their vows were, or how they made the decision to move to Westview, New Jersey.

(It’s supposed to be on purpose, isn’t it? They are an unusual couple- that was never in question. It feels right, acting out this role with her. They were meant to be together, meant to be here, and even more so recently, he wants to focus on the future.)

But when he’s looked at her, he’s thought that none of it matters. He’s there with her, and now with their children- and though he can’t remember how that happened either, he loves them too.

He still loves them, of course. Even with their rapid aging, he’s getting to know them, and learns more with each passing day.

(And what is loving someone if not truly knowing them, especially for someone who is incapable of forgetting anything?)

Wanda... she is a different story.

With her, he is at a disadvantage, in the way that anyone is- she has always been able to read him. It’s one of his favorite things about her, that she can understand people with such ease. And with him especially, when few people even try (and for obvious reasons at the moment, he can’t let them) ... it’s no surprise that he stays close to the only one he knows who really can.

But he cannot, as much as he’d like to (with her consent) read her mind, or gain access to her emotions. Their connection has become one-sided, at best.

Which is what frustrates him so, when they aren’t on the same page… and, given what he’s recently discovered, that happens to be much of the time- the disagreements bubbling right below the surface, cracks in their foundation as though the ground beneath their home will split open and take their new life with it once the two of them reach a breaking point. Something may erupt between them, and soon- he only hopes that their children won’t be among the casualties.

It never used to be a disadvantage for the two of them. They were always so in-sync, of the same mind, and no matter what happened before Westview, he believes that such was the case back then, too. And he wants to trust Wanda, when she says that she doesn’t know what’s happening, that even with her incredible powers she’s not truly in control of all of this.

He isn’t sure of what his original programming was, who created him and gave life to his systems. But he is certain- he cannot be selfish, and lose himself in his new role as a father, or put so much faith in his wife that he ignores those who are suffering around him. He has to, as unnatural as it feels, ignore the statistics telling him that Wanda is most likely telling the truth, at least until everyone else is safe.

(How long has it been, really? How long has Norm, for example, been here, connection severed from his family? Is his name truly Norm? What of Agnes, or Herb, or anyone else he’s interacted with in this town?

What of Geraldine, and her seeming disappearance from this world altogether?)

He knows that Norm was not specific, when he mentioned a “she” who was in his head. That, coupled with Wanda’s denial, could point to someone else being in true control- but then again, didn’t he seem to trust that only Vision himself could stop whoever this was? Hasn’t Wanda told him (he assumed colloquially, but…) that she had everything under control, and merely asked if she couldn’t when he told her she couldn’t control him like the others? Hadn’t she said that they didn’t need to leave, when he brought up the possibility? Wasn’t she about to dismiss his fears, make another choice for him that he didn’t ask for or have a say in, before they were interrupted?

Isn’t she the one who this “anomaly” is named for, from the perspective of those on the outside?

It’s easy enough to excuse himself, from the Halloween festivities. Especially with the re-introduction of Pietro- he and Wanda take the children, and he sets off alone, in the costume Wanda chose for him. He sees less and less movement as he goes- repetitive motion, stilted speech, those affected acting as though they are caught in a time loop, unable to be set free. And eventually, they don’t move at all.

He could release them- but it would just be worse, inciting even more panic, until he can figure all of this out, and reach those who sent the email to his office.

(S.W.O.R.D.

Doctor Darcy Lewis.

Words he should know; concepts he should be aware of… but it’s the idea of Maximoff’s Anomaly that makes him forge forward)

Vision sheds his costume (he didn’t want to wear it anyway, he feels as though he is wearing a costume every moment outside of his house regardless), and floats above the town wearing his true face, gazing down upon it all. The wind is… well, there is no point in describing it if it’s hardly there to begin with. There are lights, and sounds, but they seem to be clustered in one part of the town, and both are scattered around beyond it, only appearing sporadically once they reach the outskirts, eventually dying out.

There’s one road, that seems to encircle the town- and a car stopped right before it, that he stops to focus on. Vision lands quietly, not bothering to put his costume back on, before seeing that Agnes is the car’s sole occupant, dressed in a witch costume, her hair streaked with silver.

He talks to her. She seems to be more capable of speech than the others- perhaps because, in Wanda’s eyes, she is a major character, regardless of how far away she is. But she doesn’t look at him, and seems like she doesn’t know him… until he touches her head, using the same action he unknowingly performed to unlock Norm’s true personality.

She calls him one of the Avengers.

(noun: a person who takes revenge for an offense, a person who takes revenge on behalf of someone else.)

(He’s not sure what he did before to receive such a distinction, but from the context, he takes the name to be associated with heroism, and helping people. There are others like him- are they looking for him? Do they wait for him outside the boundary?

Was Wanda an Avenger too? Was that how they fell in love?)

She knows him- Agnes, if that is her real name, takes his hands and asks him if he’s there to help them.

Of course I am. Of course I will- I was already planning on it.

And I hope Wanda will, too.

She wonders why he doesn’t know… and then tells him he’s dead.

He wants to argue- but she sounds so insistent, and keeps repeating the word, perhaps so it will sink into him and stay there, among his essential systems. So he takes it, takes her telling him that Wanda won’t let anyone think about leaving, takes her laughter, until he puts her back under, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

She doesn’t notice. She doesn’t act like she’s looking at anyone out of the ordinary, as she wishes him a happy Halloween, and turns around- goes back to a place without dead Avengers or nearly immobile neighbors.

Then it’s him alone, at the corner of Rolling Hill Drive and Ellis Avenue, the stop sign below the street distinctions looking more like a warning than ever.

But still he walks forward, across the street, into what appears to be a field before him- until the air flickers before him, glowing brighter blue as he approaches. It seems to be a tightly-knit grid, or like static, red and green and blue, continuing to warp and flicker as he gets closer.

The part of the boundary before him seems to look like a door- or perhaps that is an illusion, what he wants to see, to convince him that this is the right decision.

(he doesn't need convincing)

But nonetheless, he places one hand against it, then the other…

And when he emerges, he’s aware of a red glow behind him. He takes one step, two, three- the boundary seems to hold onto his cape, he can’t quite pull it out all the way- and with each step there is more pain.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts-

Focus. What do you see?

Cars. People. Lights.

Military?

They are all looking at me.

They are pointing their guns in my direction.

Someone is speaking.

“He really does want out, doesn’t he?”

It feels like he is straining against a magnet, one more powerful than he can imagine, as he falls to his knees- a part of him flies off, and he doesn’t care about retrieving it. He’s not even sure what part is gone. He suspects it doesn't matter.

A woman’s voice.

“Stop! He’s coming apart!”

None of them, besides her, are moving either, as he grits what humans would consider teeth, and tries his hardest not to scream, mind too overcome by hurt to think.

Another voice, but this time in his head.

Don’t worry, Dad. It’s all right.

Billy, he thinks, holds onto the memories of his sons as he continues to lose himself. He may die here, trying to talk to the outside, letting himself fall apart so nobody else can, but for them, for everyone else…

They’re worth it.

The woman on the outside is handcuffed to a truck.

“Help him!”

That’s right. But I don’t need it as much.

“Help!” he manages, hoping they can hear him- hoping they care. “The people need help!”

He’s reaching out to them, wants them to understand that he comes in peace.

(if they know him, and understand he's an Avenger, they will. But then again, they may not be so receptive to a message from a ghost.)

But his hand is coming apart, more of him is falling away. Soon, unless Billy or Wanda get to him in time, there won’t be anything left to save.

He can’t stand anymore. He lies on the ground, feeling as though his body is burning, thinking of his children.

Hold on, Vis.

Wanda.

But she’s not beside him- instead, he feels the barrier around him, encroaching on the world he has found himself in.

Then, suddenly, he’s back inside Westview.

He’s intact, and whole- Wanda has healed him.

But, he notes as he finds himself surrounded by a circus, she has also brought in new inhabitants- and he’s not sure how this will affect her, or how much longer she can keep Westview under her sway.

(How long will she be able to keep him, or their children?)

He doesn’t know if his message will get out. Doesn’t know if he wants to remember what happened to him on the outside as an Avenger, or how he died.

~

He doesn’t want to go home that night.

#papa don't look #wandavision spoilers #fanfics #wandavision #the vision #vision #wandavision episode 6 #*publishes a fic 8 hours before a new episode* livin' on the edge #anyway this is my first ever marvel fic #i hope it's okay

[argentdandelion]

How To Get Your Number Down to Zero (Part 3 of 3)

How to Achieve Emotional Growth

Emotional Vulnerability

In contrast, Simon and, initially, Amelia are limited in their emotional expressions around others, especially in their sadness. Amelia seems to disapprove of crying: she mockingly tells Tulip to not cry. When Simon cries in the “We won’t tell Simon” memory reveal scene, he cries silently while everyone is asleep. Though deeply upset in Le Chat Chalet, he doesn’t cry; his responses are largely anger and obvious frustration. The one time he cries when others might be able to see him is after he seemingly kills Grace. He laughs evilly, cries within seconds, and tries to laugh it off while pressing his hands over his ears, as if trying to block something out (a conscience, perhaps). Indeed, though Simon was baffled, frustrated, and angered at Grace’s sudden changes in behavior, he didn’t confront her about it with anything but bafflement, frustration, and anger, when he confronted her at all.

Later in “Vulnerability: The Key to Better Relationships”, Mark Manson states: “And it’s a shining example of vulnerability because you’re saying “I have a problem. I’m not perfect, but that’s okay. I can deal with it, and I will deal with it.” In a scene set seven months after she either enters or leaves the train, Tulip says she’s “ready for anything”, suggesting Mark Manson’s words characterize a successful passenger. In contrast, Mark Manson’s words certainly do not describe Simon; he rarely admitted he had a “problem”.

Discarding of Concepts, Desires, or Motives

It seems passengers can get their numbers to 0 by letting go, giving up, moving on, or otherwise no longer caring about or being badly affected by a particular issue the memory tapes suggest is highly important. Passengers who could do that eventually got their numbers to zero, while those who didn’t, Amelia and Simon, ended up, respectively, still trapped and maxed-out (and dead).

However, it’s hard to determine letting go, giving up, moving on, or otherwise no longer caring about an issue is the cause for all instances of numbers going down. Indeed, if one thinks of Jesse’s issue as “caring too much about what others think of him/trying to be friends with everyone”, he got his number to zero by caring: actions motivated by caring about Lake. When Jesse confidently, even aggressively, rejects Simon's attempt to soothe him and downplay what was happening, shows a spine in the face of peer pressure from the “cool kids”, and tells Lake “I got you. We’re getting out of here”, his number goes from 22 to 0, and it’s unclear which action did this or how much of an effect each action had.

Re-Evaluation

Successful passengers re-evaluate their beliefs, values, perspectives, perceptions, or behavior. Tulip had the self-awareness to realize she had distorted her own memories to show her life pre-divorce as entirely happy, Jesse re-evaluated the cool kids that put his brother in a dangerous man test, and Grace came to realize that denizens were people, causing much of her Apex beliefs to collapse.

Amelia apparently got her number so high by repeating the same maladaptive coping mechanism over and over for 33 years: she “ran away” from adapting to a life without Alrick. She says “there’s a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be”, but it seems that for 33 years, she didn’t try to patch over that hole with anything but a perfect recreation of her life before the train.

In contrast to Tulip, who realized she was wrong about how she thought about her parents’ divorce, Simon never admitted he was wrong. (Him telling Grace “You were right not to trust [Amelia]!” aside) He did not even quietly re-evaluate or discard his Apex beliefs and beliefs about numbers, despite repeatedly facing evidence it was wrong and seeing all the harm it had accomplished. In a way, he “ran away” from his problems and denied most of his problems even existed, with the notable exception of his relationship problems with Grace. Furthermore, the rarity of him confronting his trauma, turmoil or insecurities trapped Simon in a dogmatic and aggressive spiral until his number maxed out and he, briefly, became unhinged from the weight of his actions until he was killed.

Specific Actions

It’s hard to tell if there are any standardized actions of getting one’s number down by a certain value or percentage of the whole, even for the same passenger.

Although “kicking the toad” (in The Toad Car) clearly has a value of 5 for Jesse (29 changes to 34), his number seems to go up by 2 (29 to 31) when Alan Dracula strongly kicks the toad, and it seems to go up by only 1 when he halfheartedly kicks a cube in “The Mall Car”. It’s possible “letting the toad go free” brought Jesse’s number down by 17, or by more than half its original number. But the preceding sequence wasn’t just letting the toad go free: Jesse freed the toad to ensure he, M.T., and Alan Dracula could escape the Flecs, since The Toad Car required kicking the toad to leave the car. The real number-lowering reason could have been “stick with Lake and help her out, even knowing she broke Mirror Law and has been lying about her history”, letting the toad go free to ensure he and his friends could escape was just the particular way he carried that out.

Tulip’s journey also supports the idea the amount a number drops is context-specific or largely unpredictable. Tulip’s number goes down when she recalls a happy memory with her dad, but being in her tape, which was full of happy memories with her parents (both true and false ones) didn’t bring her number down until she confronted the false memories. Notably, she had tweaked the particulars of the happy memory of fixing go-karts with her dad to support her idea of "work first, play later", and her number only goes down when she acknowledges parts of her memories which don't fit that idea."

People's numbers might be dependent on other people, in the sense of close relationships with others. Certainly, passenger-denizen interaction can lower a number (see Grace with Hazel and Tuba), but so can passenger-passenger interaction. For example, in the “Hey Ho Whoa” car, when Amelia said she didn’t really want to ask for help, but really appreciated Grace’s cooperation, her number went down by at least three digits.

Complicating things, there are times when number responses seem to have a time delay. When the freed toad leaves Jesse in “The Toad Car”, Jesse’s number goes from 31 to 14 instantly. Jesse’s number goes from 22 to 0 after a sequence where he confidently (even aggressively) rejects Simon's attempt to soothe him and downplay what was happening, shows a spine in the face of peer pressure from the “cool kids”, and tells M.T. “I got you. We’re getting out of here.” It’s possible he did several number-lowering things that could have been counted separately, or a single very number-lowering thing with a time delay.

It’s possible a number only goes down if an action, thought or belief “sinks in” or if passengers are aware of what they’re doing. When Tulip tells Amelia she can still bring her number down, Amelia's number goes down before she even speaks, therefore suggesting even thinking in the right direction can get someone's number down.

#Infinity Train #Meta #Analysis #Amelia Hughes #Jesse Cosay #Grace Monroe #Simon Laurent #Tulip Olsen #How to Get Your Number Down to Zero