#he's contemplating how he's going to continue to bring us joy

[formula-swift]

You ever see a lot of zippers and wanna pull on them all at once?

This is that opportunity.

Pull on the zippers!

Shiny zippers that make zipppppppp sounds when they go up and down.

Yeh, I really like zippers.

#taz skylar #This is not about the zippers #he wears those zippers well #the zippers are a distraction #look at this beautiful man #he's contemplating how he's going to continue to bring us joy #like does he realize he is the bestest and sweetest

[earlgreyflowers]

Charles marking you as his.

This request has been in my head rent free for like 3 days but I needed to make it unique, hope you enjoy <3

------------------------------------------

You were gorgeous, Charles knew it, and frustratingly, so did everybody else on the grid. Charles loved having you by his side for races, but he couldn't stand to see how everyone eyed you like a piece of meat. Your long legs were tanned with your recent time in Monaco over the summer, your long hair pinned out of your face. Your eyes sparkled with joy as you laughed at something Pierre had told you, and Charles' blood boiled. Your hand coming up to touch Pierre's bicep briefly as you giggled. That was the last straw, Charles saw red. He marched over to the two of you, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you away from Pierre without a word.

"Charles, what are you doing?" You squealed, your legs barely keeping up with his large strides. He doesn't say a word, continuing to haul you through the Ferrari garage, a stormy look clouding his features. He slams the door to his drivers' room shut, staring you down like a hunter who's caught his prey. You swallow thickly, contemplating your choices.

"Do you like pissing me off Cherie?" Charles asks, narrowing his eyes at you. "What are you talking about?" You mutter quietly, intimidated under his stare. He laughs, a deep rumble in his chest. "Are you stupid?" He asks, incredulous. "I'm talking about the way you shamelessly let Pierre flirt with you like that, you're mine."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes fluttering shut with the touch. "Mine to touch," He places a kiss below your ear on your pulse point. "Mine to kiss," He continues the journey of his lips, feeling the way your pulse jumps with each touch. "Mine to use," Charles whispers, his hand resting on the centre of your chest, fingers wrapping around the golden pendant that sits above your breasts. "You wear my number, mon amour, not his." He tugs you closer using the necklace, "And I'm going to let everyone know."

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, feeling a pulse develop between your legs at his dominance. "Do you want that? Do you want everyone to know who you belong to?" Charles whispers against your lips, sticky with red lip-gloss. "Please." You whimper, puckering your lips against Charles', leaving a mark of your own. Charles pushes you down onto the couch of his room, hiking up your skirt and removing your underwear. You moan out as his deft fingers swirl around your clit, missing the one place you need him most. You groan, bucking your hips into his touch as he slides a finger inside you.

"So tight, gonna bury myself inside you." He groans, curling his finger before adding a second. You moan out his name, arching your back as his other hand forces your hips down. His thumb begins to stimulate your clit and he just watches you squirm, writhing in pleasure. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth parted with pretty little moans of his name. He can feel the way your walls begin to grip his fingers as your moans increase in pitch. Charles removes his hand, smirking at the way you whine at the loss. "If you cum it will be on my cock, you know this Cherie." He tells you, pulling himself out of those sinful white cargos that had you down on your knees for him that morning.

He buries himself inside you slowly, feeling the pulse of your walls with each inch. You moan his name, begging for him to do something once he's seated to the hilt inside you. Your back arches with the first thrust, his cock hitting places that no-one else has been able to. His large hand comes to rest on your chest, forcing you back down as he pounds into you. The sounds of his thighs slapping against yours fills the room along with both of your moans and groans. You begin to feel a small pinch on your chest, the stinging sensation bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, my girl loves a little pain doesn't she?" Charles coos, watching the way his cock slips in and out of you so easily. "Want you to cum for me, can you do that?" He asks, pushing harder against your chest.

"Yes, god please, make me cum Charles, wanna cum." You ramble, uncaring of the volume. He laughs at your desperation, the sound shooting to your core. One swipe of his thumb against your clit timed perfectly with a hit to your g-spot sends you tumbling over the edge, a loud moan tearing from your throat as you soak Charles. "There we go, so good." Charles groans in your ear, collapsing over you as his own orgasm follows yours. You whimper in sensitivity at the feeling of his cum filling you up, whining even louder as he gently pulls out. His cum spills out of you, staining your thighs as he pulls your underwear back up. "Can't let it go to waste honey." Charles explains, placing a gentle kiss to your hair.

It's only when he removes his hand from your chest that you remember the stinging from earlier, looking down to see a deep mark in-between your breasts in the shape of a '16'.

He had branded you, marking you as his, and you wore the mark proudly for the rest of the day.

#f1 smut #f1 x female reader #formula one smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #ferrari #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 smut #cl16 x reader smut #formula one x you #formula one x reader

[spicycinnabun]

pt. 1 2 3 4 5 6 💐

When Steve got home, Robin had soup waiting for him. He was beyond grateful for a nice warm meal at the end of the day. He had been short with her during their shift—Steve could be a real grump when he was sick—so he apologized for being a dingus.

While they ate, Steve put on their favorite show: Head of the Class. Robin told him he'd make a good teacher every time they watched it. Maybe he would've considered becoming one if he had gotten into college.

The next day was Sunday, and the store was closed. Finally, a much-needed day off. Steve’s plan was to stay in and help Robin pack up her entire life—again. He’d helped her move into his apartment after she’d graduated in the spring.

They both knew living together was temporary, but that hadn’t stopped Steve from getting used to how things were and not wanting them to change.

Robin had spent most of the time they were living and working together trying to convince him to come with her. Instead of living in the dorms, she suggested they get an apartment in the city together. That way, they’d still be there to support each other and could afford it by continuing to split the rent.

If only Steve wasn’t running his mother’s dream business. He couldn’t bring himself to commit to Robin’s plan. He wanted to, but mostly because it would feel even more like hell in Hawkins without her. Besides her, all Steve had left were the kids, and they would eventually go off to college, too.

When it was official that he wasn’t going to go, Steve put up a flier to find another roommate.

He’d been relying on Robin too much. With her and Nancy gone that fall, maybe he could get a life of his own. As much as he’d miss them, he was in too deep to abandon the shop and his mom.

He’d come to love his job. He never thought he’d love anything about working, but he’d found something he was good at—something that most days didn't even feel like work. He was helping people and bringing joy to others. He liked taking care of flowers, too; seeing them grow and bloom and then go off to finish their purpose.

Back in Robin’s room, she was going through her bookshelf, contemplating every single book she had and throwing most of them in a box that would go with her. Steve didn’t know how he was going to lift it to his car on moving day.

“Robs, I’m pretty sure you won’t need any of your books. You’re going to a big school full of nerdy, smart people just like you. Of course the place is gonna have a library. Although… I’m not sure that they’re going to have this book.” Steve looked at it, brows raising suspiciously. There was a muscular man standing proudly on the cover. Kinda feminine, with long flowing hair. He was embracing a woman with a very ample bosom.

Robin snatched the book from him, face flushing, and dropped it in the box. Steve didn’t get an explanation, but they continued to chit-chat.

Random objects kept triggering Robin’s memory, sparking tales that Steve listened to intently. He laughed when she read out loud from her diary the passage about her massive crush on Tammy Thompson.

Steve sang like a muppet, interrupting her just to get her to laugh with him while he arranged her clothes so neatly it was like they were the most complicated flower arrangement he’d ever crafted. Getting every piece of clothing into her suitcase almost felt like Tetris. It was satisfying when he got it closed. Luckily, Robin wasn’t a stereotypical girl with a lot of clothing anyway.

When she went to pack up the bathroom, Steve was so focused that he nearly missed the phone ringing. There was one in his bedroom that was closer than the one in the kitchen, so he got up and ran into his room to catch the call.

Still being sick, Steve was breathless by the time he was able to grab the phone. He sat down on his bed and took a deep breath before he answered. He wasn’t sure who it could be, but his eyes widened as he listened to the person on the other end. The name made him pause: Eddie. Oh.

That was familiar, wasn’t it?

He was about to speak when a sneeze snuck up on him. He pulled out the hanky he’d been favoring ever since it had been given to him. He blocked the receiver, cursed softly, and blotted his nose as it hit him: it was the hanky giver himself on the other end.

“Hey, Eddie! Yes, this is Steve from Harrington Floral,” he replied, smiling a bit. He was chomping at the bit to find out if Eddie’s uncle had gotten engaged. “Did your uncle pop the question last night?”

Forget that Eddie was calling him to find out about his roommate vacancy—he had to know if there was any good news. Steve laughed excitedly when Eddie confirmed that it did indeed happen and that his uncle had visited the flower shop that morning.

“Oh! Your uncle is Wayne? He is the sweetest guy! I didn’t know he was going to propose. He damn near cleared us out of roses! At least now I know it was for a very good reason!”

If Eddie had a nickel for every time he’d heard someone call his uncle sweet, he would’ve been broke. Most people judged Wayne by his surly exterior, just like they judged Eddie by his style and taste in music.

It made Eddie like Steve more, and he could feel a genuine smile stretch across his face. “His fiancée loved them, man. I can pretty much guarantee they’ll choose you to flowerise their wedding. And he’ll be back to buy another bouquet from you as soon as those roses wilt.”

He’d seen the determination in his uncle’s eyes. Wayne wasn’t the type to back down from his words. Kathleen was going to be getting bouquets for the rest of her life. They wouldn’t all be as extravagant as the first one, sure, but she would be spoiled as much as Wayne was able.

“I really appreciate the business,” Steve said, “and because you came on the same day, it just shows that you’re both equally sweet and thoughtful. Happy to hear that he’ll be a repeat customer. Maybe you will be, too?”

Eddie ducked his head. If he had a nickel for every time someone had called him sweet, he would be double broke. It was likely just a salesman’s tactic, but the flattery was pleasurable regardless.

He wondered if Steve would be put off by him if he knew Eddie hadn’t given the flowers to anyone and had kept them for himself like a loser.

“I’ll be back,” he confirmed. And not just because he had a quickly escalating crush on the man in charge. Those Black-eyed Susans on his mother’s grave still looked as fresh as the day he’d bought them. Eddie coiled the phone cord around his finger. “So, turns out I really didn’t need that free bouquet.”

“Guess you didn’t.” Steve was giddy about the news. He loved that the shop's flowers were a big part of the proposal. “Even better that you didn’t pay for them.”

Steve wondered if Eddie had given them to the bride. Given how impressive the ones his uncle bought were, probably not. Maybe Eddie had someone else to give them to.

Steve had nearly forgotten why Eddie had called until Robin appeared in his doorway. He gave her a glum look at the reminder. “You called about the room, though, right?”

Despite having the flier up for almost two weeks, Steve hadn’t had a prospect for a roommate until then. It was kind of a relief to get an inquiry from someone he’d at least seen in person.

“Yeah. I live with Wayne right now, so I’m going to be cramping his style pretty soon if I don’t skedaddle, what with his new bride and all.” Eddie laughed quietly, tapping his fingers on the table.

Steve made a noise of understanding. “My roommate is moving out next weekend. She’s going off to college... You’re the first person who’s called me about it, so if you’re free today, you can come see the place?”

Eddie’s fingers tapped harder. The prospect of being in constant close quarters with a guy he was into was somewhat dangerous. It would either be fun or complete torture.

Or both. Probably both. Eddie had to go for it.

“I can come see it today. What time and where?”

He remembered what area the apartment was located in from the ad, but he couldn’t remember the street name.

Eddie stood up, spinning in a circle to try and find a pen and paper. Of course, there was nothing close by, and he ended up getting tangled in the phone cord instead and had to spin in the opposite direction to unwind himself. Idiot. “Hang on, just let me grab something to write down the address.”

“No problem.” Steve waited patiently, chuckling a little when he heard noises on the other end of the line. Sounded kinda chaotic.

It took way too long, but Eddie eventually found a ballpoint pen in one of Wayne’s jackets. He rushed to grab the phone again. “Sorry, sorry, I’m ready now.” He uncapped the pen with his teeth, using his arm as a notepad to scribble the address down. “Alright, got it. I’ll see you soon.”

🌷🪻🌻🌹

co-writing this with @batty4steddie 💕

#fic #wybmb #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie au #florist au #florist!steve harrington #and then they were roommates #🚪 #❤️

[buckttommy]

I hope ABC continues to let Ryan do press because he is the most insightful and articulate cast member. I'm always blown away by his comments

i just. oh my god, okay. let me try to, like, wrangle my thoughts together. sorry. you did not ask for Anything i'm about to say (i agree with you, btw) but i'm in my feelings so here we go because, like. like.

he is. so beautiful to me. so thoughtful, so insightful, so, like. you know how we say that, like, when we're contemplating our blorbos, we're rotating them in our heads like a rotisserie chicken? that's what hedoes. you can so clearly see that he takes so much time, and attention, and care with eddie diaz, and who he is, and how he thinks, and it makes me so, like. i am literally tearing up (again!) as i type this. because he is so emotional, and so full of depth and awareness and gentleness. eddie diaz is who he is, in so many more ways than we realize, because of who ryan is. and i just love to read his words and hear him talk and listen to him probe the depths of this character that we ALL (him included) love so much. it's so, like. i remember years ago, we'd laugh because his Hypermasculine social media persona was so incongruent to who/how eddie is, we were like "how the fuck does this guy make that guy happen?" but overtime, he's allowed us the honor of seeing more and more of himself, and he's just. he's so soft, and he's so genuine, and so sincere and i can so, so fucking clearly see how ryan makes eddie work. he's precise in his thinking and curious and hungry to make the things that don't make sense, make sense, and i'm just so. i'm so fucking grateful for this opportunity to peak inside his head, and hear his thoughts, and really, like, bask in the love and care he has for this character that means so much to me.

seven seasons in, it would make sense for him to have so many conflicting or negative thoughts about this character and the choices he makes. i've seen it happen before where actors become... encumbered by their characters' existences rather than remaining in the joy of keeping them "alive." but ryan loves eddie as much now as he did the day he was created, if not more. and as someone who loves eddie, and as someone whose healing journey has (in part) been shaped by and tied to eddie's, it's very... i don't want to say healing... but, like, comforting to know that this character - this character who is so much ME in so many different ways - is treated with such great love and respect. like. god. i can't even describe how many of my favorite characters have been shafted by the writers and/or the showrunners, leading to an absolute apathy in the actors themselves. but this is the first time where a favorite character of mine has been Treasured by all people responsible for their existence and i'm just. so grateful. to everyone, but to ryan especially because he's the one who brings him to life. i'm just. yeah. yeah. no parasocialism but i just want to reach through the screen and thank him and maybe get tears and snot all over his clean shirt because what the hell, he made me cry, dammit!!!!

#ryan #god. i'm just #fuck. i love him so much #um. anyways. yes. i hope they continue to let him do promo because this article was such a fucking gift #jack answers mail

[thengrace]

24 things I learned at 24.

Thank God, continuously thanking God is so important, it moves us from the earthly perspective into a heavenly perspective, it shifts our entire minds to be reminded of how powerful God is, how far He has brought us, what He is going to do.

Trust your gut, what it's telling you, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, the reality is that it's usually right.

It's okay for friendships to end, it's okay that things didn't work out, sometimes seasons change and with that, comes the end of certain relationships.

You shouldn't strive in a relationship, and this goes for friendships or romantic relationships; it shouldn't feel like a chore to make plans or talk, it should feel natural, and easy, that doesn't mean there won't be conflict, but it should feel like both people are equally invested. And if not, it's one-sided.

Always wait for what you deserve, whether that be a friendship or a romantic relationship, we shouldn't compromise because we are lonely or bored, that's not going to fulfill you.

Sometimes God has us wait to teach us patient and to depend on Him, instead of asking Him to hurry up, ask yourself, what can I do in this waiting period to prepare myself for what He has for me?

It's okay to feel all your emotions, the good, the hard, it's important to let yourself go through the cycle of emotions, learning to sit with your feelings is healthy, no matter how uncomfortable it is.

If something still bothers you after many days, that's a sign you should speak up and tell the person that hurt you how you feel, you'll feel so much better afterwards.

Conflict is necessary, and healthy, and no matter how much you hate it, you cannot avoid it. Conflict will help you grow in many ways.

Sitting in the silence with God is so important, the enemy wants nothing more than for you to be distracted, but God is calling us to deep contemplation of His Word and to sit at His feet and listen to what He has to say.

Tell others how you feel, what you're struggling with, don't let your story be, "I was alone and didn't have anybody," but instead, "I told that one person I trusted and there was healing."

Everyone makes choices and you can't save everybody, once you realize that, it'll change the way you show up in relationships. We have to let God work too.

Jesus is Savior, not me. I'm not responsible for someone's choices or sinfulness, I can pray for them, but at the end of the day, God simply wants me to be a vessel of His mercy, He alone has the power to save.

True friendship will survive long-distances, changing seasons, and once you find that, hold onto it dearly.

We're never alone, even when we feel at our lowest, cry out to God, tell Him exactly how you feel, no matter how scary or dark it may be, God is listening to us, and wants to be our Comforter.

Worship changes things, when we simply get to that secret place and worship the Lord, there's a change in our hearts and in the heavenly places.

It's okay to live a simple life, to not make the most money or be the most "successful" person in your family, as long as we are doing the work of the Lord, that's successful in the eyes of the Lord.

Pray unceasingly, when you wake up, when you're driving somewhere, God is a Friend, and He is always available and can be found in the everyday moments like driving to work or going to the gym.

It's okay if your prayers sound like, "God, I don't know what to do." God can take it, no matter how "ugly" it may be.

God is a Provider and a God of completeness, and if He brings you through one part of a trial, why wouldn't He stand with you until it's completed?

There are so many prayers that won't be answered for years, but God is still working, no matter how long it takes, be faithful in prayer, God will bless your faithfulness.

Remember the old things you loved to do, and continue to do them. Don't forget what makes you joyful, like an old skill or hobby that you used to find comfort in, those things will still bring joy even years later.

Don't spend too much time on things that might bring out the worst in you, like social media, it's wisdom to know what is your weakness, and to abstain from it.

Above all, trust God. Trust that He has good intentions for you and that He is going to get you through whatever infirmities, internal struggles, and relational issues you are dealing with. We have a good God.

#mine #personal #d #birthday #hope this encourages someone <3 #happy birthday

[defleppardfan1]

Love Bites: Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Y/N and Joe realised how close they stood near each other and quickly moved apart. However, it wasn’t quick enough by the smirks on the two bassists faces as they looked on at the position they found their lead singers in.

“We wondered where you both got to.” Sav raised his eyebrow at them.

“Just coming.” Joe said, a pink hue invading his cheeks. Y/N and Joe didn’t spare each other another glance as they walked back to the makeshift dressing room, the tension painfully high. 

Ultraviolet were on first so the four of them were huddled together, sharing the nerves between them. Little did they know that they were being watched by the other band in the room, the look of understanding on all their faces, remembering their first shows.

“You okay Y/N/N? You seem quiet.” Johnny asked the girl as she was taking a few deep breaths. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just nervous I guess.” She told him, knowing that it wasn’t just the thought of performing making her feel that way.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” He told her reassuringly, rubbing her arm as they all got ready to perform. 

Behind Johnny, Y/N could see Joe watching her. Shooting him a small grin she got a nod in return and she felt all of her nerves melt away for a moment. She internally scolded herself for thinking of another man that way whilst in a relationship. No matter how unhappy she was. 

*

The first show went great for Ultraviolet. All of them gained congratulations from the lads waiting for them. The adrenaline rush that was surging through them felt electric. They quickly made their way back to the dressing room feeling sweaty. There were showers in the back that the bands could use so they all made their way through to clean themselves up.

When Y/N finished getting redressed, she saw that Tammy was waiting for her. 

“They’ve gone to watch Def Leppard perform. You coming?”

Y/N nodded her head and followed her through the back corridor of the building, the sound of ‘Photograph’ being played brought a smile to Y/N’s face. She had heard it on the album but now the song only brought on good memories from when they filmed the video on Sav’s birthday.

The song got louder as they got closer and Y/N noticed the grin on Tammy’s face. Since Ultraviolet found out that they would be touring with Def Leppard, they had listened to ‘On Through the Night’, ‘High n’ Dry’ and ‘Pyromania’ on repeat and all four of them became fans. The two young women met up with Johnny and Benji, who were completely enamoured with the performance they were witnessing. 

“They’re brilliant aren’t they” Johnny shouted as soon as he saw the singer and bassist approach. 

“Absolutely.” Tammy agreed.

*

A few weeks passed on tour and all of them were having the time of their lives travelling from place to place performing. Ultraviolet were becoming more and more well known as they continued to open for Def Leppard. The album that had been cheaply put together a few months prior was starting to sell and the band couldn’t be happier.

However, despite all the joy going round so far on the tour, there were moments Y/N wished didn’t have to happen. The phone calls home to Doug were emotionally draining. Every phone call consisted of arguing and shouting, nearly bringing Y/N to tears each time. 

Tammy was there for her after each phone call and usually they would talk about it for a few hours. Y/N knew that she had to break up with him. She knew that she could not stay with him whilst he was treating her this way, but a part of her couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not over the phone at least. 

The last show of February was happening in Bristol and after Ultraviolet performed, Y/N decided to call Doug and get it over with. After she had spent extra time in the shower, contemplating what she should do, she dialled the number she was all too familiar with. She felt the feeling of dread fill her stomach as she tried to prepare herself for the shouting match she was about to compete in.

“Y/N?” She heard Doug’s voice filter through the phone almost as soon as she finished dialling, he must've been waiting by the phone.

“Yeah it’s me.”

“It’s about time you called, I’ve been waiting ages.”

“I’ve just come off stage, I called as soon as I could.”

“Couldn’t you have called before?” 

Y/N took a deep breath, trying not to let the anger inside of her rise.

“I had a soundcheck and to get ready, Gavin has us on a tight schedule.”

Doug didn’t answer and instead changed the subject, frustrating Y/N even more.

“You've been spending a lot of time with those men?” He asked her with an evident growl in his voice, causing unpleasant goosebumps on her skin.

“Of course, all of us have spent a lot of time together. We are touring together.” Y/N told him.

“You slept with any of them.”

Y/N was shocked at the accusation. Doug didn’t need to know about the tall lead singer that had been plaguing her mind since she met him. But the fact he didn’t trust her hurt.

“Of course not. Don’t be absurd.”

“Is that why you haven’t called? You've been whoring yourself around.”

“No Doug, I haven't slept with any of them.”

“You sure about that.”

“Yes. I can’t believe you would even suggest that.”

“I wouldn’t shock me with you.”

Y/N gasped audibly when she heard that. She hadn’t realised that Def Leppard had finished their set and that none other than Joe Elliott was standing behind her.

“I’m going to hang up now. Goodnight.” 

Y/N could hear Doug telling her to not hang up on him but she didn’t listen, slamming the venue payphone back on the wall. She wiped away the tears and turned around, noticing Joe for the first time. 

“Are you okay?” He asked her softly. For a moment, Y/N wanted to say yes. Tell him that it was just a small misunderstanding and that she would be fine.

But instead all she did was shake her head and let even more tears fall. Joe wasted no time wrapping her up in his arms. Cooing gently in her ear and telling her that it was going to be alright. When she managed to calm down a bit, Joe moved them to a small room with a few chairs in it. 

“Talk to me Y/N.” He told her, not unwrapping her from his arms as he sat down with her. She told Joe everything. Everything about her and Doug, about how she was no longer happy with him and how she wanted to leave but didn’t know how. 

Joe sat and listened to her as she spoke. He felt his heart breaking for the girl shaking in his arms. He knew that her relationship wasn’t perfect but he didn’t know that it was that bad.

“He doesn’t deserve you Y/N/N.” Joe told her, putting his hand gently under her chin and lifted her head up to look at him. He got lost in her eyes, the most beautiful eyes that he had ever seen.

The two didn’t realise it but they started leaning into each other. Before they knew it, their lips connected for the first time. They both knew it was wrong but neither could pull themselves away.

Y/N felt Joe’s tongue ask for entrance, which she granted immediately. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently earning herself a moan. Smiling gently into the kiss, Joe explored her mouth whilst wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer. 

They don’t know how it happened but Y/N ended up on Joe’s lap. His lips started to trail down her face and neck before landing on her shoulder. He pushed her t-shirt to the side and started to gently suck, grazing his teeth along her skin.

When the two eventually pulled apart, they found themselves breathless. Gazing into each other's eyes the reality of what they did started to settle in.

Taglist:

@genxrocker

@elliotts-personal-property

@friccinfricks

@i-love-def-leppard

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💖💖

#joe elliott #joe elliott x reader #def leppard #ellen's fic #love bites fic #love bites chapter 6

[egg-emperor]

I think Gamma provides precedent for how Eggman treats Sage in Frontiers. He calls Beta Gamma's big brother.

Calling Sage his daughter is definitely a step further but it is still an example of assigning familial roles to his creations.

He says he's proud of Gamma just like he does with Sage

And he says he's counting on Gamma in their last scene together (I find it funny this line is different in the other characters story modes)

I think the thing with Sage is we never get a chance to see her really fail Eggman and how he'd react to that. All the times of Eggman mistreating and dismissing his creations are when they fail him in some way. Sage never does in the story of Frontiers. The closest she gets is this scene where he does still throw a little hissy fit over her suggestion.

IF Sage ever did actually fail Eggman, how would he react? Frontiers simply doesn't answer that question.

I've been thinking so hard about Adventure as one of the prime examples of him treating his creations like shit lol and yeah this is another of the reasons why it bothers me in Frontiers, how they got so close to going in the right direction but playing it up for "the feels" in the English dialogue in particular really changed the context and made it OOC. And how people try to treat the exact same line as "development" of the dynamic in Frontiers, even though he said it in Adventure while still being the biggest bastard ever and still treating them like shit, sparing Gamma only for being useful to him. But the unused mission fail scene shows he would immediately call him a "useless machine" too if he can't deliver, just like he easily harshly discards the rest.

Presentation changes everything, the casual approach works in the way I described for liking Japanese Eggman Frontiers dialogue too. Adventure doesn't treat it as a big deal of "omg Eggman is assigning family roles, he must care!" Because it's very clear when it would make him a terrible "father" as he punishes the E-Series brutally. It just makes it worse, how he's like "this is your brother btw I'm pitting the two of you against each other and throwing away the loser lol :)" then "I'm going to fucking MESS UP all your brothers because they couldn't bring the right frog" and Gamma finds out what he did and is so disturbed and broken he has to kill all of them and himself lmfao

That's why I wouldn't have a problem with Eggman saying Orbot and Cubot are like brothers to Sage, though I can't see him calling them his sons because he can't fucking stand them lol, which would also make him a very bad father if he somehow did. But that's why I also feel saying robots are siblings doesn't always mean he wants to take a blatant father type role. But I also never had a problem with him actually calling himself Metal's daddy because I want him to call himself daddy Archie Eggman was still a twisted bastard around the time they introduced it and continued to be and it was even casual and subtle with IDW Eggman, the way he acts with him as his real self as opposed to Tinker has a nice difference showing it's casual and lacks the same deep care as his real self.

So if they had wanted to introduce it to game canon in a casual way in a similar manner to Archie/IDW, that would've been fine by me. A running joke about how his pride and joy in a creation as a creator can be like the pride a father has in their child doesn't take away from his evil, if you don't frame it in a wholesome or deep sad way that tries to make him seem like he cares for them sincerely. They fucked up when they've got fans acting like he's the next Bowser and even contemplate if he's going to lose his villainy entirely and that's what happens when you try to make it serious and sad for "the feels" that just seem like a "we didn't care to develop this but look this is so sad please cry". As a cheap lazy way to try to get people to like it.

I'd say it's not just when they deliberately fail as he also just has a really short temper and if they say the wrong thing or get in the way, he will insult and hurt them. But yeah when they fail or betray, or even if they just do something that mildly annoys or displeases him, like saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and how he was pissed at the E-Series just for bringing the wrong frog when he still got what he wanted, then he's relentless and punishes them with physical harm, repurposing, discarding, or destroying them. He did get pissed when Sage suggested teaming up with Sonic and about Cyber Space but she was spared because she still seemed useful and she's a particularly impressive creation in terms of being advanced.

Maybe it can stop him from punishing Sage in some circumstances, as I'm sure he would've mistreated and punished other creations for the ways she annoyed him. But sparing her shouldn't imply genuine sincere care, it should be due to still having a use and being an impressive example of advanced skill of creating life in a way he finds far superior as it involves his genius. I'd imagine there has to be some kind of a limit before he snaps and mistreats and punishes like any other if they understand he won't take that lightly, no matter what kind of attachment to level of impressiveness or prior usefulness. Make him see red and tip him over the edge enough and it's over. Can't trust a man with such an explosive temper.

But yeah the way they handled it in Adventure is good and it turns out the Japanese version of his role in Frontiers is careful to keep accuracy to his character too with it being very toned down and feel more casual, so it feels more like him. It shows how they got pretty close with getting it right in the English version too, aside from OOC phrasing in the memos that was changed in the Japanese version despite the memos being one of the only faithfully translated parts (which is really saying something), and those ending scenes that bother me the most, where it was rephrased in the Japanese dialogue in a way that changed the context of them for the better.

Adventure and the Japanese Frontiers' way of handling such a dynamic in any way and amount is how you do it right. It's not that it isn't possible for it to exist at all and still make sense, as they almost acknowledged that well enough in the English version too, except the dialogue was too much there like it wanted it to be much deeper and more sincere on a caring empathetic level. It bothers me as that's obviously just not the kind of guy he is, especially because it actually even contradicts other things he said in the same game that proved that aspect of his character hasn't left or suddenly changed. And the much better differences in the Japanese dialogue also further support that too.

I'd be intrigued to see how much he could take and how far Sage could go before he decides enough is enough. Because any amount of attachment in the dynamic shouldn't be beyond the selfishness of his pride in his creation for being a manifestation of his genius, how impressive and advanced she is to the point of being life-like for the same reason, and for how she can be genuinely useful and competent in fulfilling her function. But disappoint and anger him enough and I think the most believable way for him to react would be to punish her in ways he would with any other creation or completely erase her or something. If not, then it makes sense to keep her around.

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #sonic frontiers #my post #analysis

[dyhayc]

Hurt and Butterflies

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Shy!Reader (fluff, light angst)

Summary: A scenario that explains why this series is named Skirts and Mary Jane

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Marijuana/Smoking

A/N: This extra takes place later in the series (though I’m not entirely sure when, I haven’t completed a concrete timeline yet), but I think it’s a good window into what the dynamic between Eddie/You will be once you become friends.

This can be read independently!

Series Masterlist

You’ve spent a lot of time at Eddie’s home. After he confirmed you were friends, you felt more comfortable hanging out with him. It felt like he wanted you there. Like you weren’t some intruder in his life.

Sitting on his bed, you’ve listened to him play his guitar, ramble about DnD, recreate his latest shows with his band, and more. It’s always exciting and fun, even if you don’t understand what he’s talking about, because he’s fun. He puts life and joy into his passions.

Right now, you’re not having so much fun, though. Sitting cross-legged at Eddie’s headboard, your elbows are resting on your knees, and your hands are holding your face. You’re in a daze thinking about music. Honestly, you’re tired of listening to songs you don’t know.

Every time you’re in his room, he plays music. You don’t want to be rude and ask him to change the song. It’s not your room. You have no business what kinds of music he can and can’t listen to. But still, you wish that you could listen to some of your own music sometimes.

While thinking, you begin to pout, though you don’t notice. Eddie certainly does. He flips from his back to his stomach and tosses the magazine he was reading to the side. Copying your posture, he rests his elbows on the mattress and his head on his hands, beginning to pout too.

“Why are we pouting?” he asks. His voice breaks you out of your daydream, and you realize he has mimicked you. Looking into his big brown eyes only makes you pout more.

“We always listen to your music,” you respond, giving him puppy eyes, too, hoping he will be swayed to voice the words you’re too embarrassed to say.

He drums his fingers on his face and squints before saying, “Next time, bring some of your cassettes over. We can listen to them.”

You can’t stop the wide grin that takes over your face or the excitement that shines in your eyes, “Really?”

He mimics your smile, “Yes, really,” then he flips onto his back and snatches the magazine back to continue reading.

The second you get home, you contemplate what you should bring. There are some safer options, ones that Eddie would expect you to have. Singers like Cyndi Lauper or Madonna. Or you could pick artists you really enjoy, like Marilyn Monroe or Blondie. You could even go wild and choose bands like REO Speedwagon, Wham!, or The Beatles. Bands that you like, but you’re pretty sure he’d hate.

Out of all the tapes you’ve scanned, there’s one that keeps invading your thoughts. The one tucked deep in your dresser drawer, despite how often you use it— the one that you recorded yourself to repeat one song over, and over, and over. On nights when you missed Eddie, you’d play the tape and flip it, and again, and again, and again, until you fell asleep.

You know you can’t bring that cassette; you’d die on the spot. However, you glance at the original. There’s hesitation, but you still grab it and put it in your bag with all your other tapes.

You walk over late in the day on Friday. The air is cool now that the sun is setting beyond the trees. You have the entire weekend to hang out. You lied that you’d be spending the night at Robin’s house, something you’ve been doing a lot lately.

Eddie’s uncle has already left for work, which means you’ll be alone together for the night. The thought makes your heart flutter, even though you know nothing will happen.

He opens the door with a joint in his hand, but you’d expected it. His smile is bright when he lets you in. You return it with a warm smile of your own. “So what music are we listenin’ to tonight?” he drawls, moving his face down towards yours as you both stand in the doorway.

“You’ll have to wait and see, Mr. Munson,” you reply, pushing his shoulder gently so you can walk past. He shuts the door and trails you to his room. You set your bag on the ground to go through your cassettes again.

Eddie tries to look, but you cover them with your hands and frown at him, “No peeking.” He huffs but doesn’t argue as he walks away. He takes the tape he had been playing out of his cassette player and puts it back in its case while you ponder your choices.

It’s obvious which one you’re leaning towards. Your fingers keep grazing the edge of the case. It doesn’t help that you know for a fact it’s stopped right before the start of your favourite track.

With your decision made, you go to his cassette player. Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Tom Petty? You can do better than that, baby.” You can see him standing in front of his bed from the corner of your eyes.

He only uses that nickname when he’s high. It sends a sadness through your veins but a warmth in your chest. Even when he isn’t trying, he affects you. Nervously you lower your head and twirl the cassette between your fingers, contemplating whether or not to tell him why you’ve brought it.

You look up at him and smile softly, though you’re unsure if it reaches your eyes, “It makes me think of you, this one song.”

He seems genuinely baffled for a moment before he asks, “Really, why?” You’re not even surprised he doesn’t ask which song, he always forgets to ask the important questions, but an idea pops in your head because of it.

Putting the cassette into the player, you say smoothly, “Because your defining character trait is smoking weed.” His eyes widen, shocked you would say that, and definitely not missing the irony of him being currently high. But then, he sees the mischief sparkling in your eyes and knows you’re only trying to mess with him. You break eye contact to play your music, the intro of Mary Jane’s Last Dance filling the room.

Well, two can play at that game. “If my defining character trait is smoking weed, then yours is wearing skirts.” Your jaw literally drops as you turn to look at him. He’s wearing a stupid shit-eating grin on his face.

“Eddie! I can’t believe you just said that!” you exclaim, laughing, and lightly smack him on the chest. Even though your touch shouldn’t have hurt him, he flops back onto his bed like he was just sucker-punched.

You follow him and bounce onto his bed before sitting cross-legged next to his head. He takes a hit of his joint and blows the smoke out of his mouth, looking thoughtful. “Skirts and Mary Jane, huh,” he ponders, suddenly quiet and low-energy, “what a duo we are.”

“We’re unique,” you remind him gently, “it makes our bond special.” You smile down at him and hope that it’s comforting. He closes his eyes and reaches his free hand up, and rests the back of it on your knee. You place your palm on his, and he rubs your wrist gently with his thumb.

The pang in your heart is only matched by the butterflies in your stomach.

------

Btw, I totally mixed up the release dates of American Girl and Mary Jane’s Last Dance in my head, so can we just pretend that Mary Jane’s Last Dance was released pre-1985? I am kinda dumb </3

#stranger things #skirts and mary jane #samj extra #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #fluff #light angst #my writing #series

[emotionflowsworld]

New experiences? here we go..

On a Saturday afternoon, Tom and I found ourselves in front of a sex shop. I say “I think I am getting cold feet Tom” and look up at his tall frame. I had read stories and watched videos about the things I wanted to explore, but actually living them felt like a whole different thing.

He looks at me smiling,” I know love it is overwhelming and it’s okay you don’t want to buy anything but we can go look around to tame your curiosity a bit” I contemplate the offer and nod. He holds my hand and I move ahead with him behind me.  A woman around in her mid-40 smiles at us. I return the smile and start to look ahead. It had 2 floors. 1st floor for the stuff for women and 2nd for men. The women’s floor was divided into lingerie and toys. I move ahead feeling Tom behind me, he asked “what are you thinking y/n?” I went back to our conversation on Thursday. We were sitting on the couch eating pasta and I asked “Do you ever think about having some more toys for some extra stuff?” blushing and hiding my face while drinking honey lemon iced tea. His eyebrows shift up “I would love for you to be a little bit more specific.” I smile and say “I have had fantasies, with handcuffs, nipple clamps where you tie me up and use that stuff on me.” He puts both of bowls down and brings me into his lap, holds my waist and tightens his grip. He says “Bringing your fantasies to life is one of my greatest joys darling ” He kisses down my neck and continues, “ So when do we have to go shopping?” I fake frown “You look like someone who would have tried and tested all these fantasies.” He chuckles “You would be surprised to know how much I still yearn to learn new things about you everyday even if they are stuff like loving pizza and Friends(show).”

He wraps his hand around my waist and I start moving through the aisle of lingerie thinking ‘have enough of that’ and moving on to the aisle of vibrators ‘not what I am looking for’ and then comes the aisle for BDSM toys ‘let’s go’.

There were masks which seemed too fishy, then there were handcuffs, I smiled at him and started looking for something that I wanted. Metal cuffs, leather cuffs, soft cushion cuffs, going through them I picked one with the gold chain and showed it to him. He mouths “Perfect” I smile and take the metal ones, he chimes” those are great for role play too” I huff and say “exactly what I was thinking” he chuckles and takes them analyzing them around his wrist and then taking mine. He looks at me inquisitively and I say “Works” I move ahead and see paddles and floggers, my mind wanders. He says “Take your time love” then my eyes fall on the nipple clamps. There were ones with chain in the middle, ones that were just clips, pendants hanging the clips, ones that had ball gags attached to it. I go through the chains in the middle ones and then the clip ones. I see him concentrating on the clip nipple clamps with butterfly hanging on them.  I ask him “Do you like them?” he answers,” Just imagining you in them does things to me.” I took them and said “That is it, I want to try them as soon as possible.” He grins widely and we walk towards the cash counter.

The lady checks the two handcuffs and the nipple clamps out and says “hope you had a good visit and please do come again.” In a surprisingly calm tone

  We reach home and make dinner. After finishing it we were having dessert and talking about his appearance in the D23 expo. He says” it felt so good to be revive  that character  in front of those people, they seemed very excited.” I exclaim” Tom! Who fucking isn’t” He laughs and takes a bite from my chocolate ice cream. I widen my eyes and went” Oh you didn’t “he did it again and said “oh I think I did love.” Going for the next time and I take my hand behind and spill the remaining all over my night t-shirt. I groan and he laughs. I stand up to clean myself but he takes my hand and pulls me to straddle his lap, and starts licking my neck, I say “Haven’t you had enough” as it tickles where he licks. “I can never have enough of you” and removes my t-shirt completely leaving some ice cream spots above my breasts. He eyes them hungrily and starts licking them ferociously. I moan above him and feel myself get wetter. He picks me up and takes me to the bedroom and lies me down, he keeps going until not one drop of that ice cream is left, then he removes my shorts with my panties and comes near my ear an says” stay here for me, will you?” I nod and he smiles and goes away and brings back the bag of toys from earlier. I smile and he also brings his tie with him. My excitement is peaked. He comes over and kisses my cheek gently. He asks” can I blindfold you baby?” I say yes and lift up my head for him, he ties it and rests my head “is this okay?” I nod and he kisses down my torso and I squirm beneath him. He takes my wrists and ties them with the leather ones with gold chain. “Try them love, are they comfortable?” I do and say “yes Tom” “good girl” I grin widely and he chuckles as he lifts them up above my head and kisses down my neck,  licks my collarbone, he goes down and licks my right nipple and I hiss above him, he massages my left breast with his palm. And then licks my left nipple as he pinches my right. I rub my legs together as I feel all those sensations right in my pussy. He comes up “do you want to use the clamps today?” I nod enthusiastically and then I hear the rummaging through the bags and then he gently caresses his fingers on my nipples and licks them. He touches what I think is the butterfly on the nipple to make me familiar with it and then he opens the clip and shut the it around me. I sigh heavily “are you good love, should I keep going?” I smile and say yes almost out of breath. He repeats the same process with my other nipple and I feel myself getting very wet. I arch my lower back as the other clamp is around my nipple.

 I feel him kissing my shoulder and then my upper arm, my earlobe as he whispers” only if you could see yourself right now, you look divine.” I say “take a pic for me then.” He brings his phone and I feel the light of flash on my eyes. He comes back and kisses my lips gently at first and the getting rougher. He dips his hand between my legs and sigh around my lips “oh fuck, you are so, so wet.” I moan at his declaration and arch my back towards him a bit. He put a finger inside me and I moan loudly as I arch my back which leads to my clamped nipples to touch his chest and the pleasure increases to a whole new level. He fucks me with his fingers and every single stroke makes my nipples and my clit more excited and I mange to say” please fuck me Tom” without saying a word he angles my hips and thrusts inside my and fills me up to the hilt in one go. I grunt loudly as he kisses my neck a licks at that spot. He moves in and out of me slowly and after a few strokes he gently rubs his fingers around my nipples through the clamps as if admiring them. I moan as every single sensation there just brings me closer to the edge. I clench around him harder, “I am so close Tom” he moves his fingers and massages my mons and gently flicks my clit, which makes me jerk my hips harder towards him. He grunts above me as he fucks me harder circles around my clit faster and I moan loudly “Fuck yes, yes I am coming Tom.” I scream his name as he fucks me through it and kisses me roughly and keeps going until he goes extremely hard inside me and explodes, I kiss his neck as he bites my shoulder as his thrusts become slower.

We stay there for a minute and then he kisses on my cheek I say ”That was out of the world” he sighs and I feel his smile on my skin before he removes himself from me and takes off my blind fold, I say “Hi” he returns “Hi” and then I chuckle as he removes the handcuffs and slowly takes off the clamps and I sigh and hiss heavily, feeling sensitive and satisfied.

He brings towel and a glass of water, “Thank you I think I was going to pass out” he says” I am equally consumed love, but in the best way.” He lays on the bed sideways looking up at me and comes up to blow over my nipples, I suck in a large breath as it soothes me completely “you are making me crazy baby.” “Not even close to what you do to me” I keep my water aside and snuggle with him under the blankets as my sleep takes over.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddelston loki #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddlestonxreader #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x ofc #loki #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki show #lok #loki smut #tom hiddleston fics #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddelston icons #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston perfect #loki season 2 #loki season one #loki stan #loki fuck #loki fangirl #loki fandom #loki fic recs #loki feels #loki laufeyjarson #loki loki loki

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for February 26, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for the Day Devotional Scripture: Proverbs 10:1:(KJV): 1 The proverbs of Solomon. A wise son maketh a glad father: but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.

Thought for the Day

This verse compares a wise son to a foolish one and how their actions affect their parents. A son who follows the Lord in wisdom brings his parents joy and rest. A foolish, rebellious son grieves them. Around the world, a breakdown between the generations has occurred. Whenever a generation fails to follow God, a national moral decline begins. The sins that one generation tolerates, the next one practices in the extreme. The younger generation soon forgets the God of their fathers and a breach occurs between the young and old. The generation just before the Second Coming of Jesus Christ will come under a terrible curse unless God intervenes and heals the division of the generations (Malachi 4:5-6, Luke 1:17). We are approaching that time; ours could be that generation.

Today Satan tries to destroy families through the sins of the fathers as well as the sins of the sons. Families will be mended only when both fathers and sons turn back to God. ("Fathers and sons" encompass mothers and daughters as well; I believe it also includes "church fathers" and their "spiritual sons" since there has been much division in the church as well.) God desires both families and churches to walk in His love and unity. The curse of strife and division can be mended, if we seek the Lord and walk in His love and forgiveness. "And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just; to make ready a people prepared for the Lord" (Luke 1:17).

According to Malachi 4:6 and Luke 1:17, healing must begin with the fathers. Being more mature, parents must reach out to rebellious children with forgiveness, prayer, and love. God will show us how to mend broken relationships as we seek Him. We who are parents must have patience and faith that the Lord will bring our natural and spiritual children back to Himself. God promises that our children will be delivered and blessed: "Though hand joins in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished: but the seed of the righteous shall be delivered" (Proverbs 11:21). "I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread. He is ever merciful, and lendeth and his seed is blessed" (Psalm 37:25-26).

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for Your love and watch care over us. Lord, today we pray together for all the families and churches that have suffered from division and broken relationships. Lord, forgive the selfishness of those who are in rebellion and have refused to maintain fellowship. Give all of those who have been wounded by rebellious children, the grace to forgive, and to continue to pray, to love, and to reach out. Lord, also heal those who are hurting because of church splits and lacking spiritually. Lord, bring reconciliation and deliverance. Deliver those who have been deceived and taken captive by the enemy's lies. May Your love and truth prevail in our relationships. Lord, show those contemplating divorce that You can bring healing and restoration to their marriages and discord within the church. Thank you for the needed miracles that will turn the hearts of fathers into children. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.

From: Elder Steven P. Miller Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeper-watchman https://www.facebook.com/Parkermiller/ Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, @StevenPMiller6; #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981 Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956 & Gatekeeper306 URL: linkedin.com/in/steven-miller-b1ab212From

[email protected]

[childrensbread]

How to Please God: Enoch's Story

💜 By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death: “He could not be found, because God had taken him away.” For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God.

And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him. ~Hebrews 11:5-6 ✝️

Devotional

Have you ever wondered whether you are pleasing God? Today, we are stopping to consider what pleasing God actually looks like.

Imagine a beautiful mosaic, resplendent with color. Note how the disparate pieces combine to make a spectacular picture. This is how Hebrews 11 works.

Hebrews 11 is the "Hall of Faith". It shows us, through human precedent, what it means to live with radical faith in God. It's not a theological exposition of faith. It's an illustration of it: a painting. As the chapter recounts inspiring stories of ancient saints - hyperlinking to other narratives across the Bible - it compiles a meaningful mosaic. Through its roster of examples, people as flawed and complex as we are, the scripture paints a comprehensive picture of what fruitful faith can look like for normal people. It's a God-breathed treasure trove of formative faith tools.

Today, we are contemplating Enoch. Enoch was Adam's great-great-great-great grandson. We read about him in Genesis and again in Hebrews 11. Although not much is said about Enoch, the little that is recorded causes us to pay attention.

Enoch's most spectacular claim to fame is being one of only two people in Scripture who appears to go straight to heaven without experiencing death. It's impressive! Yet we hardly know anything about him!

The glimpse Scripture does give us, though, is profound. It gives us all the information we need, as if God wants to make this point as clearly as possible.

In Genesis 5:24, the Bible simply says: "Enoch walked faithfully with God." Then, in today's passage, we learn Enoch was "commended as one who pleased God" (verse 5), followed by the explicit statement "without faith it is impossible to please God" (verse 6). Are you putting the pieces together? The picture is clear: Enoch was treasured by God because of his faith.

Faith pleases God. Let that sink in. This is our second truth about faith for the week! The principle almost seems too simple to be true. So don't miss it! God is pleased by your faith. Not your works. So you can stop feeling like you have to "impress" God or panic when you let Him down. You can focus on trusting Him instead.

How does that thought impact you?

Your continued reliance on God in tough times thrills Him. Your decision to do the godly thing under pressure brings Him joy. Your resilience to not give up because you are holding onto His promises delights Him. He smiles at you. Every time your life reflects your relationship with God, He is pleased. That is faith!

So be like Enoch today. Resolve to walk faithfully with God. One step at a time. He is real and He rewards those who seek Him. He is pleased with you!

Source: Glorify App

Image: Google

Photo Editor: ChildrensBread

My Glorify Referral Link: https://share.glorify-app.com/MRSPINO777 ✝️

#jesusfreak #bibletruth #godislove #jesusisthelightoftheworld #jesusneverfails #godisgood #bible reflection #follow jesus #biblescripture #bibleverse #bible reading #biblestudy #christian motivation #christian inspiration #christian faith #god is our rock #our daily bread #god is real #godgotus #god is my salvation #god is my strength #god is faithful #god is love #god is great #jesustakethewheel #jesussaves #jesuschrist #jesuslovesyou

[umbralsound-xiv]

I went... Outside. To collect my thoughts. Not far. Just the Lavender Beds.

No sense endangering myself for a simple walk.

...To collect my thoughts, and...

Crumble. Just for a little. Out of view.

Bexy Amalaryssia gives a long, slow sigh. The dull roar of the waterfall flooded her ears, as darkened, weary eyes stared on ahead. Her gloves remained in front of her on the railing, bare hands grasping the wood, fingertips tracing over the texture of the grain. She had heard none approach; but the cool air that often clung to her gave signal to anyone who knew her how she might have been feeling.

Mattisaux Baschet stepped off the ferry and into the serene gardens of the Lavender Beds. As was typical, his face knit mildly though there was no apparent frustration on his part. His reason for being here was supposed to be amiable, for the most part. After a mind-clearing deep breath to settle from the ever-quaking wakes of the boat, he set off for the company house he had sights on... though not without a look around the area. His first stop were the large falls that greeted the Beds the moment you reach it, taking yet another breath before stamping his boots over the planks of the pier. Searching eyes roamed out of slight paranoia, and to his surprise, he found a shape that he may have recognized. "Bexy?" He made sure to carry his voice above the falls, though he kept much of his distance were his vision not how it used to be.

Bexy Amalaryssia turns her head sharply over her shoulder, snapping herself out of whatever thoughts she had succumbed to. Her eyes narrow... Before they widen in surprise. "...Mattisaux?" She asks, almost if she was uncertain. Her weary features slide into a relieved, faint smile. "...How good it is to see you... It has been so long, no?"

Mattisaux Baschet shrugged an hand up toward her. "Too long, I suppose. I see you are doing..." He strode closer before continuing, allowing himself to scroll his eyes over Bexy's frame. "...You are alive, so I would say that is enough. I trust you are taking care of yourself." Despite his words of 'trust' his eyes narrowed in suspicion regardless.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "As much as i can." Bexy responds. She relents from elaborating for the moment, even if her eyes clearly speak of the distinct lack of sleep she has been getting. She glances over him, offering a faint tilt of her head. "...And... Yourself? I was worried something happened to you. Not that i know where to find you, terribly."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Right..." Brushing a strand of hair from his view just for it to return a second later, he sighed and lifted a brow. "Considering how I was on the other side of the world, you finding me would have been impressive, dear. That aside, how surprised I am to see just the person I came here for. Mayhap I -do- have some form of luck, even if it might be as minor as this."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "The... Other side of the world?" Bexy lifts a brow, intrigued. She turns to rest on the railing, looking him over. "Do you mean Thavnair? Or further? Kugane?" She looks him over, contemplatively. "...Have you ever been beyond Eorzea before, Mattisaux?"

Mattisaux Baschet joined her on the railing, folding his arms and leaning a hip on the post. "Thavnair, Kugane, a miserably humid land named Yanxia. The Ruby Sea with blood red skies as well." There was a bright interest in his timbre despite keeping it tame in his expression. "I could go on about it, though I take it you have been there before?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...All of them. Well, except Thavnair. But... One day, i am sure." She looks up to him, wide eyed and smiling, bringing some much needed joy to her expression. The cold seems to drop away from her an ilm, too. "...The East is beautiful. The culture... The food. What did you enjoy most? Why did you go?" The veritable barrage of questions came forth then, as she took a step closer.

Mattisaux Baschet already expected the chill from being around the frostbitten Miqo'te, however, as the atmosphere warmed slightly only to drop when she stepped closer, his head tilted a little in thought. A small hum rattled in his throat before answering her. "I went because I wanted to see it. Nothing terribly exciting or anything to get your desperate hopes up for my reason. Though, by the looks and feel of it, you might benefit from some time away."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I can't. Not now." Bexy responds almost dimissively, shaking her head. An uneasy desperation clung to her words. "...You... You wanted to see it? That was all?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I have been some small handful of times. Yanxia is a favourite." She lofts a brow. "....Did you... Go to the Steppe?"

Mattisaux Baschet sighed, now scrunching his face from a growing irritation. He loosened his arms to wave a dismissive hand, rolling his eyes. "Alright, for your humor. I have been planning this trip for quite some time. Perhaps a year or two. Yanxia was rather unpleasant though not for any reason you might conjure. My favorite aspect of the place were the open baths in the city in the midst of the land of the prude. Thavnair was a gods damned nightmare. Lastly, after all I have heard of that godsforsaken Steppe, I will never willingly set foot in that trap."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Hah. It's not quite so terrible. The people of the Steppe are a little strange sometimes, but... Well. We shan't go down that road again." She offers a smile. "...Yanxia is where i got engaged. Thavnair... I know nothing of it, besides the beauty of the land. And the... Unfortunate turn of events that recently befell it."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Ah, so you have heard of it..." His expression falter for a moment before coming back to his more comfortable frustration. "That aside, full glad I am that your experience there was more pleasant than mine but enough of that. When will you quit dancing around what ails you? The air about you is quite stifling, lest that is just how things are since I have yet to grace you with my shining presence for so long."

Bexy Amalaryssia narrows her gaze, before lowering it for a moment. Mattisaux was not one for dancing around with words. Somewhat more resolved... She returns her attention, and takes a breath...

Bexy Amalaryssia: "The company are being taken, one by one. By people we do not know. To a boat in the middle of the ocean. Where they are experiemented on, one by one, subjected to all kinds of atrocities before being... Returned back in whatever state they have been left in."

Bexy Amalaryssia: " My company. My friends. My...My family..."

Mattisaux Baschet expected something relatively bad, bracing himself while staring her down, though the news left him lifting another brow and narrowing his eyes while he tried to comprehend. "They return...? Are they infected with something? Have they taken you and I am just finding this out now?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...It... We don't... Know enough. But we are trying. Me, Mist, Adelle... All of us. I have barely -slept-." Speaking this now, she sounded as though she was going to burst into tears, even if she bit them back through pained, gritted teeth. "Someone came back blind. Another, unable to heal when she formerly could. They are all enhanced some way, sure enough. But none of this... It isn't..."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I... I found Sayuri last night. She told me what they had put her through. It's... Horrible..."

The sudden rush of emotion that came forth left him slightly caught off guard. The apparent vexation across his visage melted like ice in Thanalan, replaced with guarded concern. "Sayuri..." The name confused him but only for a moment. "Ah, that half-redheaded kitten from before... They torture them and bring them back? So they must know where you all reside, yes?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...Not to our door. They leave them somewhere. Neoma made her own way back. Eir, they found wandering blinded and terrified. Sayuri... I.. I found her. Or more, she found me. At Azeyma's stone. Her aether is almost... Gone."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Others are... Still missing..."

Mattisaux Baschet pressed his lips to a frown; for once, he held his piece on commentary, opting to pause before speaking with a small sigh. "This will fall on those deaf ears of yours, but you must take care of yourself should you even hope to take care of this situation and those who are doing this. Revenge while deprived never works in the intended way."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I am trying to find... Clues. Something. Anything. I cannot just... Sit at home and ... Watch, Mattisaux. Watch whilst my... My people... Endure all i did, and worse, not even a cycle ago. I cannot sleep anyway, no matter where i lay, so i... I just..."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I feel so... Useless. But i am -trying-."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...And they can... Never see me. Not like this."

Bexy Amalaryssia swallows the lump that had crawled up through her throat through blurred eyes. The cold is a little bracing, but kept under her control, for the moment.

Mattisaux Baschet: "So you wallow to your lonesome? Precious, dear, stubborn Bexy..." He dared to step closer to place a hand over top her frost-tipped locks, rustling it a little. "They are still alive. Not well, but they are not taken away forever. Gather yourself and devise a plan for worse torture if you can manage it. ...Watching you in despair is more painful than I would like."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "What they enacted on the company will be a kindness compared to what i could do to them." She spoke with confidence, which faltered some, as her sentence came to a close. "...I come here to be close, but far enough away so they cannot hear or see my tears. They look to me to support, Mattisaux. Strength. I am supposed to -protect- them."

You see Mattisaux Baschet and your eyes begin to well up.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "And i have -failed- them. They cannot see me like this, because it is their firm faith that i will continue to be a pillar of support for all who need me. Even if i do not believe it... I need them to."

Mattisaux Baschet shook his head, giving her a stern gaze. "I must remind you of your time of weakness, dear. You were far from the picture of strength. One light breeze would be enough to break all of your brittle bones when I last laid eyes on you. You are not some beckon of hope, strength, or confidence, dear. You are merely the leader of your company and a dear friend with resolve to protect them. Placing this ridiculous pressure of looking the part is doing you no favors, dear."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Mattisaux, i -have- to!" Her voice is desperate... unhinged, almost. She fights the tears, but they crawl down her cheeks regardless. "You... You know what these people mean to me. I... I will be fine. It is not a... Difficult feat, to make me cry. I'm certain you don't enjoy shedding tears in rooms full of people." She takes a breath, and steadies herself. "...I'm.. Sorry. I know you are... Right. That the words you give me come with the best intentions."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...And i appreciate them. I know this is... Not what you wanted to hear, after not seeing me for so long..."

Mattisaux Baschet knew what could possibly happen should he step in to wrap his arms around her shoulders, but seeing her so easily shaken left him willing to accept the risk. He embraced her and squeezed tightly, if not a little too tight. "I will be honest with you, Bexy. I am rather glad -you- have yet to be stolen away this time, more so than the others. However, I understand you." He sighed, pausing a bit awkwardly as he tried finding the right words. "Should you need me, I will happily lend my blade."

Bexy Amalaryssia widens her eyes in surprise, as Mattisaux's arms pull her close into an embrace. She returns it, burying her face into the breastplate of his armor. "...Thank... You." She manages, doing her very best to keep her composure. "That means more to me than you know. Or perhaps you do." A smile; rare for her in these suns. "...You know me better than most, i think." Bexy takes a moment, to linger on her next words. "...These people are not... Like us. Like... Normal people."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I use the word normal very... Loosely. G'rallin could not best them in combat. Nor could i. There are reports of people who can turn invisible and move without a sound. Re-open every scar your body posesses with a single touch. Who will eat you alive... Just to name a few."

Mattisaux Baschet counted his lucky stars her chill reached only so far, breathing a small relief. "I am sure there is much and more mystery about you, however I -do- know how large a heart you have. Mayhap too large." To her next set of words, he grumbled to himself. "These are not monsters or tamed beasts? Saying they are people that can do that sounds like a delusion someone might have had in the midst of torture."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Had i not seen one such person myself, i would have questioned it too." Her gaze is lowered, calmed a little for the comfort. "...I just want to protect those close to me. That is all i have ever wanted." Bexy takes a long, deep breath. "...The chances of us engaging them in combat do not seem high at the moment. But we do not know. They... All appear to have Hellsguard naming conventions. Even the people who came back. They were... Named, by a man named 'Father'. I do not know what circles you are in these suns, Mattisaux. But if you hear anything... Even a whisper. Please, tell me?"

Mattisaux Baschet: "Of course, dear." With her vaguely calmed, Mattisaux eased his grip and looks down to her. "This sounds like a man with a twisted sense of reality, I can only wonder how he has managed to keep so quiet by the sound of everything I have heard thus far. I wish for your friends to return soon and well enough, given the circumstances. Pray forgive me should I manage to kill a lead of yours were I so lucky to find something."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "If you do, i ask only that you bring the body. Whilst to me a body is only good for burying, Adelle can learn things i cannot. If we're lucky... Maybe even a way to reverse the damage done to those who were taken."

Mattisaux Baschet groaned suddenly. "Gods, I had nearly forgotten how disgusting of a practice that Shroud witch has gotten into. Now I will not bother holding myself back."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Medically, Mattisaux. She's a doctor before anything else. -My- doctor."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "She's put me back together more times than i care to count. I certainly wouldn't be standing here talking to you, without her."

Mattisaux Baschet pulled away from her but only after patting her spikeless shoulder. "Yes, yes. Though I am more than certain that if you saw where her hands have been before she pulled you back from the brink, your stomach might turn for a few suns. That is to say I am not grateful, she just does not need to hear it from me."

Bexy Amalaryssia gives a small huff of amusement. A ghost of a laugh, but enough to bring fleeting joy to her eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I won't go tell her that you've been singing her praises behind her back." She smiles fondly towards the hand, patting his forearm. "...Good to know your Eastward ventures have not altered you beyond recognition. I hope to hear more tales of them, one sun."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...Not just as a distraction from all the terrible things happening, but... Because i genuinely enjoy listening."

Mattisaux Baschet managed to crack a half-smile for her, and a little for himself. "I will be sure to bore you of the details some other time. I take it you are well enough to return to the company? Or will you spend more time here to gather your thoughts?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...I am... Undecided. Enough wallowing, regardless of what i do, mind you. More thinking of my actions to come. You've brought me some much needed clarity. And a smile, to boot."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Good. It might also bring you more solace to know that you -will- redeem yourself to your company once you act like that Midnight Coeurl you used to be. As soon as you have your enemies in your grasp, I mean. I have yet to see such brutality from something as proper as you, but I like to imagine so regardless."

Bexy Amalaryssia tilts her head. "...Would you tarnish the image you have of me, for the one you would imagine?" She asks; an honest question. "...The Coeurl was a terrible person. But not nearly so bad as the woman she became, before the woman stood before you now."

Mattisaux Baschet: "So she is less than I imagine then?" He tossed a careless hand up. "Either way, it matters very little to me as it does not change what I know you as now. Once again to humor you, I still think of you as a soft, if not fragile, little Miqo'te. You bonded with a softhearted fool, for gods sake. Though I have seen you sink your icy teeth in a number of people and beasts, myself included, I should add."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I shall enjoy for myself then, the surprise on your face the first time you see me flay someone alive for not giving me what i want. Say what you will of Laurent at your own peril. Without him, i'd have likely gone off the deep end and taken several people with me in the process. You might even have been one of them."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "---Though i'm sorely glad you are not."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Careful, dear. Throwing around such romantic words like 'flaying someone alive' might send the wrong message to someone like me." A devious smirk stretched a corner of his mouth before he stepped aside. "Anyroad, I will leave you to your thoughts though I do hope you return to them soon. I am sure the kitten misses you as well as the others who have made it back. Ah, would you actually do me a favor once you are back?"

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You know better than to test me." She offers a smile; one more friendly, than anything. "...I will stand a little longer, and then return for something to eat." She perks a brow at the mention of a 'favor'. "...Hm? I can surely try, if it is within my possibility."

Mattisaux Baschet had his grin pull a smidge wider. "Pray, when you see that Au Ra wench at the door, give her a full-handed slap across her emotionless cheek, would you? As a greeting from myself to her."

You make a straight face at Mattisaux Baschet.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "No, i shall not. If she buries you in my old space in the front garden, i can say it will have almost been deserved."

Mattisaux Baschet chuckled heartily. "And here I was actually keeping one of your company members in my thoughts just for you to find fault in it." His laughter ran short soon after as he made way for the pier. "Half jests aside, I wish the best for you, Bexy. Truly. You will be the first to hear of anything should I stumble upon such madness and when next we meet, I can only hope it is with their blood on your hands."

Bexy Amalaryssia huffs, shaking her head. "Either with their blood on my hands, or with a weapon in my hands and you alongside me, ready to spill it."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "...Please look after yourself, Mattisaux. I will endeavor to do the same."

Mattisaux Baschet: "Yes, of course, dear." Rather than fight the good tidings she gave him, he knew better by now. He merely lifted a lax hand in a wave and headed for the ferry.

#Muse: [Bexy] #Chapter: [Blood And Water] #[His Beloved Children] #FFXIV #IC #Screenshot #Writing #Textlog

[meli-r]

Redemption v2.20

“You're quite the chef, Touma,” Makishima commented, his gaze drifting across the table adorned with an array of dishes.

“Want to try a bite of this?” Touma offered.

“I don't indulge in meat,” Makishima declined.

“That's too bad. Choe Gu-sung, how about some soy sauce?” Touma continued, his attention shifting.

“This food is a revelation. Nowadays, people don’t prepare their own meals—they use printers. It’s cheaper and faster, but the taste is not the same,” Choe remarked, savoring the flavors.

“Few folks know the joy of smoked human flesh,” Touma added casually.

Choe raised his head, his expression turning serious. “Wait, don’t tell me this is…”

“Oh, damn, it’s a joke,” Touma laughed.

Makishima let out a subtle smile, his eyes glancing at Touma.

“Your sense of humor sucks,” Choe stated.

“I've heard that before,” Touma narrowed his eyes, taking a sip of whiskey. “I wonder what your heart would look like in the palm of my hand.”

“Try me, boy,” Choe raised his knife, elbow on the table, pointing it at him.

“Can’t we get along?” Makishima sighed. “It’s so rare to have us together.”

“Why did you bring him, Shougo-kun? I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You walked into the PSB headquarters,” Choe warned.

"Oh, yes. The cafeteria they have is big and quiet. Did you know that the enforcers can't leave the building because they basically live there? How boring."

“How do you know that?” Choe asked.

"I heard about it from one of them."

“You talked to an enforcer?” Choe’s voice echoed.

"Yes, he had some free time, so we got chatting. The women in that place are scary," Touma raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the table.

“Are you crazy?” Choe’s lips parted.

“You should be grateful. Now you know some of their blind spots,” Touma’s expression turned serious. “And I didn’t have much of a choice. They wanted to know about Altoromagi, and I was a witness.”

“You should’ve listened,” Choe shook his head.

“And you should enjoy the pleasures of life more.”

"If you've learned anything from me over these years, his body and history should in no way lead them to you,” Makishima commented, frowning as he watched Touma lower his gaze. “What is it?"

"I killed before I met you. Before I learned to protect myself. That's why I had to kill Hashida and then Altoromagi. They may discover the physical resemblance I bear to her. My first work."

Makishima sighed and grabbed his cup of white wine, “Time is still on our side. Worst case scenario, we will have to buy more.”

“I’ll be forever grateful for everything you’ve done for me, Shougo-kun. Just remember I don’t play by your rules. My work belongs to me,” Touma frowned slightly, his voice more serious.

“How disappointing if it didn’t,” Makishima narrowed his eyes and smiled briefly.

“I wish… my sister was still here. I spent so much time with her, but now… I can no longer visit her in Ogishima. She’s not there to talk to me anymore,” Touma looked down and sighed.

“Do you hold regrets?” Makishima asked.

“No. It is through death that she lives. Nothing will separate us now.”

"Have you considered the precise botanical selection for Altoromagi's memorial ceremony? Orchids, with their subtle yet profound symbolism of beauty and strength, or perhaps lilies, embodying the restoration of the departed soul. Each floral choice carries nuanced significance. It’s a contemplation akin to deciphering the hues of nature, wouldn’t you agree?"

“Thanks for the suggestion, Shougo-kun. But I don't care as much about the deceased as I do about the guests.”

“You want to see his daughter.”

“You should consider laying low. The PSB will be monitoring the ceremony,” observed Choe.

“Yes, but they must already be busy studying Shimizu's background and those of other teachers. I left them plenty of homework to keep them entertained. Choe Gu-sung, you haven't tasted a single bite. I didn't know you didn't have the stomach for even a simple joke. Go on, eat your lunch. I like to see you both eating. I wish you two were broke, so that I could feed you this lunch and know you really needed it.”

A stretch of time unfolded, elongated by the rhythm of their leisurely meal. The ambient glow from the dining area mingled with the luminescence of Tokyo beyond the expansive window. As they lingered in the apartment, the city outside transitioned through its own kaleidoscope of colors. Tokyo, adorned with the evening hues, painted a canvas of skyscrapers against the darkening sky.

Minutes melted away like the remnants of daylight. The city, now a tapestry of muted city lights, witnessed the peculiar camaraderie within the apartment.

Eventually, as the last morsels were savored, the trio moved toward the door. The glow of Tokyo, now fully immersed in its nocturnal palette, framed Makishima and Choe as they stepped into the corridor, bidding farewell to Touma's hospitality.

As the metallic sheen of a black car reflected the city's luminosity, Makishima and Choe seamlessly disappeared into the night, leaving behind a lingering echo of their presence in Touma's apartment.

"Touma has truly taken an interesting turn,” Makishima commented.

"He went crazy. Are you sure about this, Makishima?" Choe asked.

"I think I'll linger a bit longer, observe the play," Makishima responded, his gaze narrowing as he turned towards the window. The apartment complex gradually receded into the urban tapestry.

"What if you're just nurturing the serpent that will eventually bite you? What kind of brother kills his own sister?" Choe's skepticism crept into his words.

"He's an intriguing individual."

"But he doesn’t heed our counsel. Despite being the prime suspect, he persists in his antics. He won't harm anyone from the police. He's never engaged with them like this. Once he spots that girl, he's likely to vanish with her," Choe shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"Then I'll ensure he remains unwavering, free from doubts. We're a team," Makishima asserted, meeting Choe's gaze.

"I wish I could witness it up close like you. This seat feels more like that of a spectator."

"It's not merely a spectator's seat—it's the director's."

As they drove away, Touma found himself engulfed in the silence that settled over the apartment. The distant hum of the retreating car gradually faded, leaving him in a cocoon of stillness. His eyes lingered on the disappearing vehicle, a contemplative gaze devoid of any discernible emotion.

Alone in the now-silent apartment, Touma stood with a sense of solitude that echoed through the empty rooms. His footsteps created a subtle echo as he moved to the expansive glass windows, overlooking the city sprawled beneath him like a vast, pulsating organism. Neon lights flickered in the distance, casting an otherworldly glow on the metropolis.

The dance of colors and shadows played upon Touma's face as he stood in quiet reflection, the vibrant cityscape creating a poignant contrast against his contemplative demeanor. The rhythmic pulsation of the city seemed to resonate with the thoughts that occupied his mind, hidden behind a mask of inscrutable expression.

"I wish you had experienced Tokyo," he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur. "I've encountered peculiar souls there."

The dimly lit room enveloped him in an unsettling calm as he delicately ran his fingers over the cold glass, the chill permeating his very bones. His sister's frozen countenance reflected in the glass, her unblinking eyes holding a silent intensity—an echo of an unexpected fate.

The cool surface beneath his touch felt almost synthetic, like the smoothness of a preserved moment. Her gaze, frozen and unwavering, hinted at a stillness that defied the natural order of life. It was as if time itself had been captured, leaving her essence suspended in a perpetual quiet.

Touma's eyes narrowed as he lifted his head, casually sipping whiskey from his glass. The neon glow outside painted his face, revealing nothing of the memories that simmered beneath the surface. Turning on his heel, he gravitated toward the brown wooden bookshelf, pausing in contemplation. His eyes traced the volumes until they rested on an upside-down photograph. Retrieving it, he strolled over to a long armchair, settling in with a relaxed demeanor. With both hands, he turned the photograph—a man and a girl with matching black hair and gray eyes—his head tilted slightly to one side, sinking into the armrest with an air of introspection.

The distant reverberation of footsteps echoed through the long, sunlit corridor, abandoned and bathed in sunlight streaming through the windows. Touma hesitated beside a door, allowing a moment to linger before sliding it open. As the door closed behind him, he took in the room, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings that reflected the divergent lives of its occupants—two beds neatly arranged with white sheets, two bedside tables, and two desks on the other side of the room.

Touma's expression tightened as he absorbed the contrast between the two roommates. One bed bore the signs of occupancy, with disheveled sheets and a pillow casually tossed aside. A graphics tablet and a digital pencil on the bedside table hinted at the presence of a creative soul. Moving further, he noticed a crumpled piece of gum paper. In stark contrast, the other half of the room appeared untouched, as if patiently awaiting its owner. The second bed was meticulously made, the pillow perfectly positioned, and the desk immaculate, bearing no trace of human touch.

Seating himself on the neatly arranged bed, Touma directed his gaze out of the window, allowing the gentle sunlight to bathe his face. In a moment of quiet introspection, he closed his eyes, relishing the hushed ambiance of the room. His fingers moved with a peculiar tenderness, caressing the fabric of the pillow beneath them.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he opened the drawer of the nearby table, revealing a chaotic assortment of items. Touma's fingers, guided by some unseen force, explored the objects, lingering on a worn copy of "The Voluntaryist Creed and A Plea for Voluntaryism" by Auberon Herbert.

His touch traced the contours of the book, and as his attention was drawn to the bright yellow bookmark protruding from the pages, he found himself immersed in the words before him. In this stolen moment, he could not help but conjure the imagined voice of the room's elusive inhabitant, a peculiar connection forming between him and the unseen soul who had left their imprint on these silent artifacts.

“Why should you desire to compel others; why should you seek to have power—that evil, bitter, mocking thing, which has been from of old, as it is today, the sorrow and curse of the world—over your fellow-men and fellow-women? Why should you desire to take from any man or woman their own will and intelligence, their free choice, their own self-guidance, their inalienable rights over themselves; why should you desire to make of them mere tools and instruments for your own advantage and interest; why should you desire to compel them to serve and follow your opinions instead of their own; why should you deny in them the soul—that suffers so deeply from all constraint—and treat them as a sheet of blank paper upon which you may write your own will and desires, of whatever kind they may happen to be? Who gave you the right, from where do you pretend to have received it, to degrade other men and women from their own true rank as human beings, taking from them their will, their conscience, and intelligence—in a word, all the best and highest part of their nature—turning them into mere empty worthless shells, mere shadows of the true man and women, mere counters in the game you are mad enough to play, and just because you are more numerous or stronger than they, to treat them as if they belonged not to themselves, but to you? Can you believe that good will ever come by morally and spiritually degrading your fellow-men? What happy and safe and permanent form of society can you hope to build on this pitiful plan of subjecting others, or being yourselves subjected by them?”

He closed his eyes briefly before setting the book aside. A muted, almost bitter laugh escaped him, his mouth closing. Shifting his focus to the cluttered drawer, he discovered black earphones, a pen, a smaller book with a bookmark marking its final pages, and an e-reader that held his fascination. Placing it on the bed, he continued his exploration. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a small, white bottle—surprisingly light, hinting at its meager contents—sleeping aspirin. Two more vials caught his attention: one for headaches, the other labeled Escitalopram. Both were full, suggesting they were either new or unused.

His gaze lingered at the end of the drawer, where an upside-down white picture frame lay. Turning it over, Touma's lips curved into a slight smile. The photograph revealed a man and a girl with matching black hair and gray eyes—an unmistakable father-daughter duo. The man leaned toward the younger girl, his arm draped across her shoulders. Touma marveled at their youthful appearances, estimating that the father had become a parent at a young age. As he scrutinized the photo, he noticed a barely visible smile on the young girl's face, a rare sight considering the Yashiro he knew. Her hair, now a different color, momentarily deceived Touma, making him question if it was indeed her.

Carefully removing the photograph from its frame, he pocketed it, returning everything to its place. Straightening the sheet on the bed, he left the room with the stolen image, a secret treasure in his possession.

Touma's eyes closed, his index finger stroking the photograph's edge before he set it down on the wooden corner in front of the couch. His hands rested on the red shirt on his belly, the room enveloped in a contemplative hush.

The funeral ceremony unfolded in the heart of Tokyo, a city that had seen its fair share of macabre incidents, yet this one bore a unique air of unease. The venue blended traditional Japanese funeral practices with the futuristic aesthetics of a society dominated by the Sibyl System.

Mourners, draped in subdued black attire, filed into the ceremonial hall with somber faces. The atmosphere was thick with grief and lingering fear from the horrific incident involving Touko's father. Holographic projections adorned the hall, projecting serene cherry blossoms—a stark contrast to the grim reality that had befallen the deceased.

The polished ebony casket, adorned with minimalist designs, commanded the room's center. Surrounded by carefully chosen floral arrangements symbolizing mourning and respect, the scent of incense wafted through the air, a customary element meant to guide the soul to the afterlife.

In a corner, a virtual shrine displayed images of the deceased—a respected lawyer and a loving father. However, the haunting image of his body displayed in a zoo defied tradition and decency, lingering in everyone's mind.

As the mourners exchanged hushed condolences, the blend of cultural customs and technological nuances was under the watchful eyes of security drones, a constant reminder of society's reliance on the Sibyl System.

The ceremony proceeded with speeches, carefully curated to uphold the memory of the deceased while sidestepping the disturbing circumstances of his death. Traditional eulogies intertwined with holographic projections, creating an unsettling juxtaposition between the serene virtual world and harsh reality.

As the mourners paid their respects at the casket, a tall, brown-haired man approached. His perfectly tailored three-piece black suit, dark tie, and a mole under his left eye gave him an air of calculated nonchalance amid genuine grief. Mourners observed him with a mix of curiosity and wariness, unsure of his connection to the deceased.

The ceremony concluded with the lowering of the casket, efficiently captured by the watchful drones. As the mourners dispersed, a male voice broke the quiet, "Touma-kun? Look at you, all grown up now."

Touma turned, offering a smile with slightly narrowed eyes. "Oh! It’s been a while. I knew your brother for quite some time. He was a good lawyer, a real professional."

Family members, still immersed in grief, nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating the sentiment.

"I remember the time he took me out for a round of golf. We had a good laugh," Touma reminisced, injecting a note of normalcy.

The family members, initially reserved, began sharing stories of the deceased outside the professional realm. Laughter, albeit subdued, echoed through the hall as they recalled anecdotes, painting a more human picture of the late lawyer.

“I heard you work in the school my niece attends.”

“Yes, teaching has always been one of my interests. I’m flattered to work in such a conservative school. How is she, your niece? It must be hard for her with everything that happened. I would like to ask how she’s holding up, but I haven’t seen her.”

“I saw her with a friend of hers. She told me they went to the zoo,” he shook his head.

“Kirino Touko was present at the crime scene?” Touma asked.

“Yes, but a friend didn’t let her go closer right in time.”

“Her friend saw the body? What happened then? Was she sent to therapy?" Touma continued.

“No, her hue didn’t cloud. Lucky girl, considering many employees at the zoo had their hues jeopardized.”

“I saw them around too before they left. I wasn’t aware she was invited,” his wife responded.

“Touko called her. Just let her be. She’s been through too much. She needs someone of her age now.”

“Why her?” she asked further. “I can't believe she had the nerve to show up after she refused to attend her own parents' funerals.”

“Why, what happened?" Touma raised an eyebrow.

The relative leaned in, lowering their voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Her old man was a real piece of work, a criminal and all. Got what he deserved. But then her mom... well, she snapped, and the Sibyl System had to intervene. She’s the only one left, and folks around here treat her like she's got the same darkness in her. Can't blame them, can you?"

“Nature versus nurture,” Touma commented, raising his gaze.

“After the Oso Academy’s scandal, I’m surprised and disappointed that the principal didn’t expel her. She’s dangerous.”

Touma’s eyes widened slightly for a moment.

“That’s not it. It’s the rumors.”

“She was too young. People say she has a beautiful clear hue. There’s no way she could commit the same crimes. Touma-kun, forgive us. We’re just worried about our niece.”

“It’s understandable,” Touma nodded.

“People like her father should be dead.”

“Don’t say that. Not here.”

“Come on, they’re trash, not human at all. Who would you trust your life to, Touko or her?”

His wife paused hesitantly with a frown until she changed the subject with a nervous smile. “Have you been drinking? Touma-kun, excuse us.”

"It’s okay. It was nice seeing you again,” Touma bowed slightly, his smile fading as they walked away.

As Touma continued to navigate through the mingling mourners, condolences and memories flowed around him like a quiet river. His eyes subtly swept the crowd, seeking a familiar face amidst the sea of mourning expressions. The information about Kirino Touko's departure from the relative lingered in his thoughts, becoming a beacon directing his steps.

Amidst the somber exchanges, a distant relative approached him, offering a polite nod. "Touma-kun, is something wrong?"

Touma shook his head. "Not really. I was just looking for Kirino Touko. Did she leave?"

"Yes, she went in that direction," the relative gestured subtly, indicating a turn. "I think she needed some air. It's been quite overwhelming for her."

"Thank you," Touma responded, his eyes narrowing with concern.

Following the indicated path, Touma made his way towards the direction where Kirino Touko had sought solace. Outside the funeral venue, the fading sunlight cast long shadows on the quiet pedestrian street.

“I wanted to apologize,” Touko began.

The sun dipped low in the Tokyo sky, casting long shadows on the narrow, two-way pedestrian street lined with small houses. Yashiro glanced sideways, a wry smile playing on her lips.

“For what?” Yashiro raised an eyebrow, her smile lingering like the fading sunlight.

They strolled side by side, the rhythmic click of their footsteps blending with the distant hum of the city.

“For bringing you here.”

“It was my choice.”

“You're the only one who doesn't keep talking about my dad or ask me how I'm doing. That's a relief. Until I understood why you get it so well, the way they don’t. You shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have called you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry about what they said behind your back,” Touko's gaze dropped to the pavement.

“What did they say?” Yashiro frowned briefly, her voice a calm breeze in the quiet street.

“Awful things. About your dad. About you,” Touko met Yashiro’s eyes.

“I don’t blame them,” Yashiro shrugged with a nonchalant grace.

“You must be so angry. With me and with them.”

“I'm not.”

“But—”

“Forget it,” Yashiro shook her head, gracefully perching on one of the swings in a nearby playground and then swinging forward to sit.

Touko settled into the other swing, her fingers gripping the chains, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Is it true, what the cops were saying about you?” Touko asked.

“What were they saying?”

“That you… stood there. At the zoo.”

Yashiro gazed down at her black dress shoes, a silence weaving between them until she responded, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just worried.”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Yashiro shrugged, shaking her head.

“You can tell me.”

Yashiro took a deep breath, her smile fading as she gazed up at the houses in front of them. “I felt responsible.”

“What? You’re telling me that… you felt like you killed my dad?” Touko’s brows furrowed, her eyes widening.

“Yes. No. It’s… hard to express,” Yashiro tightened her grip on the chains on either side of her body. “It’s not just your dad. It’s all of them. Hashida. The girl. I’m sorry. I’m making you talk about this.”

“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who brought it up. I know I’m stupid asking after everything we've seen so far, but are you okay?”

“Yeah. Do I look different?” Yashiro raised an eyebrow, looking at her.

“You never look different. It's a brilliant strategy of yours, that way you don't look vulnerable and no one asks how you feel.”

“How would people know if something was up with you?”

“They wouldn't know, but I would tell them if they asked me. Will you return the favor next time?” Touko slightly tilted her head, not taking her eyes off her.

“Okay,” Yashiro chuckled.

“I also wanted to thank you.”

“Why?”

“Because I messed up at the zoo. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“I just did what anyone would have done,” Yashiro shrugged her shoulders.

“Not everyone risks their own hues for others.”

A silence fell between them until the sound of a call caught both of their attention. Touko pulled out her phone from the small beige purse she had and turned on the screen.

“It's Emi. She's spamming me because she thinks I'm ignoring her. She's a few blocks away. We're meeting at a friend's house. Honestly, I don't feel like going out anywhere or talking to anyone, but she insisted,” Touko sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. “Do you want to come?”

“No, I have things to do. But say hi to Emi for me.”

As Touko walked away, Yashiro watched her, a small smile lingering on her lips. Touma, engrossed in his own thoughts, continued navigating the narrow streets. The city's hum surrounded him, and the dimming sunlight painted the urban landscape with a soft glow.

Touma, led by the vague information about Kirino Touko's departure, followed the direction she had taken. The city's holographic projections danced around him, displaying a seamless blend of technology and tradition. As he walked, he passed through a holographic barrier, a construction zone indicated by caution signs and bustling drones.

Amid the hum of machinery and flickering holograms, Touma's gaze was drawn to a figure seated on a nearby wall. A holographic projection suggested that the area was off-limits for pedestrians, likely undergoing maintenance or cleanup. Drones buzzed around, their mechanical precision evident in the meticulous tasks they performed.

Touma, almost about to continue past the restricted area, caught a silhouette among the holographic barriers. The silhouette, framed by the artificial glow, seemed oddly familiar. Something in the posture or the subtle movement made him pause.

With curiosity overcoming him, Touma approached, eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the figure's identity. The holographic projection shimmered, creating an illusion of an impassable barrier, but there, seated on the wall, was Yashiro.

“If you're searching for Kirino Touko, she's already left,” she remarked, petting a cat between her thighs.

"I can see that. It seems you're the one trying to isolate me. Was this your intention from the start, Miss Marple?" Touma tilted his head slightly, his voice serious. The holographic projections around them flickered as if responding to them. “Where did she go?”

Yashiro looked down. She saw Kirino Touko walking below, her long black hair waving in her back.

“She wouldn’t say,” Yashiro responded.

The holographic barriers seemed to shimmer between them, a dance of light and shadows.

"Did you know that body language changes when we lie?" he asked, a note of cold observation in his tone. His eyes, sharp and discerning, focused on Yashiro. "Especially the eyes."

"Wasn't Edgar Allan Poe, a prominent figure in the Romantic period, the proponent of ocular identity, positing that the eyes serve as both the embodiment of one's identity and a portal to the depths of the soul?" Yashiro lifted her head slightly.

“Do you believe that?”

"No."

"Your eyes spill the beans, you know? When you're spinning a tale, there's this tiny telltale dance, a sly twitch in the corners that spills the secrets. It's not just the lowering gaze and the fashionably late replies—it's in the curve of your lips, the quick moves of your hands. Most people lie out of convenience. Others do it for the sheer pleasure of it. When I was younger, I played a little game with a girl who had a crush on me. I made her believe I cared, that I liked her. She fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. And when I decided it had run its course, I revealed the truth. The devastation in her eyes, the tears streaming down her face—it was an intoxicating rush.”

“Thanks for the enlightening lesson in body language. It might just save me from falling prey to people like you one day,” she responded, prompting him to laugh.

“How did you know it was me before I said anything?”

“Because of the sound.”

“What sound?” Touma’s brows furrowed.

“Everyone has a unique way of moving. Whether it's the shuffle of their feet, the length of their steps, or the subtle rustle when they take off their coat. The sound can reveal a lot about a person. Over time, you even learn to recognize who's entering your house,” she mused, making his expression darken.

“How perceptive. Were you excessively curious or protective, studying people's patterns and memorizing their movements as a child?”

Yashiro's eyes widened slightly for a moment. Instead of meeting his gaze, she turned her head towards him, her stare still fixed on a distant point.

“I think yes is the answer to that,” she responded slowly.

“I wasn't aware this was the location of your father's funeral,” Touma remarked.

“Neither was I.”

“You mentioned attending his funeral,” Touma looked down, a brief frown crossing his face before he met her gaze again. “You lied.”

“I was compelled to attend. So, I made my escape,” she shrugged.

“Much like now.”

“No one ordered me to come here,” Yashiro frowned, her voice raising slightly.

“That's not what I meant.”

“I'm not fleeing, I'm... taking a stroll,” she softened her voice, casting her gaze downward at the cat while gently stroking its dark gray fur.

"In this secluded place, contemplating life's mysteries with your feline companion?" Touma's voice took on a sardonic tone as he gestured to the quiet, isolated surroundings. "Not exactly the typical spot for a leisurely walk."

Yashiro's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. She continued stroking the cat, maintaining her composure.

"Not everyone finds solace in crowded parks or bustling streets," she retorted, her gaze shifting from the cat to the cityscape below.

Touma chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. "It seems you still have a knack for discovering hidden corners. Or perhaps a habit of seeking places where no one can find you."

Touma's observation hung in the air, a challenge evident in his gaze. Yashiro occupied a narrow ledge on the rooftop, her perch providing a breathtaking view of Tokyo's city lights and the people meandering below. Seated against a column, she seemed at ease in the elevated solitude.

"Are you aware that you’re sitting on an edge 100 feet off the ground?" Touma's question disrupted the silence.

"Then you better not distract me," she responded calmly.

"Will you come down?"

"No."

Touma sighed, cautiously approaching. His eyes flickered uneasily between the dizzying height and Yashiro. The rooftop unveiled a panoramic spectacle, yet the low wall accentuated the precarious balance between the urban sprawl and the vast sky. As he touched the opposite side of the column, the cat, previously curled up on her legs, darted away, startled by the intrusion.

A subtle discomfort lingered with Touma, amplified by the proximity of the ground far below. The low wall felt insufficient against the expansive city and the vastness of the sky. Yashiro, perceptive, stood up, taking a few slow steps toward the opposite side, creating distance.

"Afraid of heights?" she remarked, her raised eyebrows showing a hint of amusement.

Momentarily distracted by the departing cat, Touma felt unease creeping in. He shifted his gaze from the thin ledge to the sprawling city below. The realization of his vulnerability in this elevated setting took hold. Redirecting attention, he delved into technicalities.

"It's not about fear," he began, his voice a velvety cadence. "Consider the intricacies of the human body. A fall from this height orchestrates a dance of bones and tissues, a symphony of fractures and contortions. The impact on their skeletal structure and physique is captivating. The human body, akin to a delicate machine, undergoes a sequence of fractures, dislocations, and injuries when subjected to such forces. It's a testament to the marvels of our anatomy, responding to the ballet of gravity."

“For someone who fears death, you certainly seek it out,” Yashiro interjected, cutting through the air.

Her gaze swept over Touma, dressed in a black three-piece suit that contrasted sharply with his brown hair. The white of his shirt and the four buttons of his vest gleamed in the ambient light, imparting a sense of formality and correctness to his appearance.

“You speak as if I were a sinner,” Touma raised an eyebrow.

“The way you always push people to get what you want, you're no saint at all,” she frowned, shaking her head.

“If I’ve been guilty in my life, I feel vindicated,” he smiled. 

“Why?”

"I don't know," Touma admitted, his smile softening as he gazed at her. An inexplicable urge to laugh bubbled within him. Furrowing his brow with curiosity, he looked her up and down quickly, studying her black two-piece suit. "Yashiro, everything you've done in your life goes against the ideals of this society. Yet here you are. In a way, it's like a mockery of this absurd world."

The sunlight seemed to caress each object with deliberate pleasure, emphasizing its beauty and stamping approval on the scene.

"A mockery of us. Every person on the street. I observe people when I'm on the train or in the subway. I like to see what news they watch, what they talk about with others. I used to hate them deeply—now I just think, why, poor fools?"

Touma remembered one morning when he ran into her a block outside the school. Instead of reprimanding her for running away, he approached and asked, "Care for some coffee?"

Soon, they found themselves at a nearby coffee shop near Oso Academy.

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just had an unpleasant half-hour and wanted to wash the bad taste out of my mouth."

“What happened?”

“Had a chat with a friend and got wind of the news about Arakawa Asahi.”

“Who is Arakawa Asahi?” Yashiro asked.

Touma burst into laughter, momentarily forgetting the sophistication of his white dress shirt, black vest, and red tie, as the curious looks of people around them hovered over them.

"That's why I suggested coffee with you, because you can say things like that.”

“What’s that about?”

"But you like to read. Don't you know that Arakawa Asahi is one of the best-known intellectuals we have? He was just voted author of the year by Sibyl. His most famous book delves into the limitations of human reason and the necessity for guided wisdom. As Arakawa articulates, human reason, for all its perceived prowess, is confined within a cage of subjectivity. It's a deceptive light, leading us astray more often than not. He argues for a collective consciousness, a harmonious unity where decisions are made for us, not by us. Picture this: a world where the blind are led by someone who denies the existence of light. It's a curious dance, isn't it? However, you haven’t heard of him. Come on, finish your coffee. I wish you didn't have any savings of your own so I'd have to pay for it.”

Touma's laughter, soft and slightly low, filled the air, carrying echoes from the corridors of his own past. As the echoes subsided, his smile faded, and his expression turned serious. A contemplative frown formed on his face as he studied Yashiro.

“Were you forced to go see your mother too?” he asked, taking a few steps toward her.

“I wasn’t,” she replied, avoiding eye contact.

“No?” Touma pressed.

“There’s no funeral without a body. I wouldn't have gone anyway.”

“My mother didn’t have one either. Sometimes I think maybe she hated us,” he shared, moving closer.

“Why?”

“Her psycho pass started to cloud during her pregnancy. Maybe we were the reason. When she saw the possibility of being sent to a correctional facility, she escaped from the hospital and gave birth to us alone. And then she never let us out of the castle. She provided everything we needed until the day she took her medicine for her psycho pass and fell asleep forever. My sister was so happy. I didn't realize it then, but she didn't let me go outside and started bringing back things just like our mother.”

“You mean stealing them,” Yashiro pointed out.

“She changed after bringing expensive things. I couldn't get it back then. I saw her with a bloody ballpoint pen every time she came back. Until the day she returned covered in blood, and told me that an evil sorcerer was about to find us.”

“The human rights activists,” she guessed.

“I didn't lie about my sister,” Touma's voice slowed, his frown deepening. “Even if she disappeared, she's dead to me. She destroyed our world. I pretended to have amnesia to bury her memory.”

“So that nobody finds out she killed people?” Yashiro asked.

Touma's gaze tightened, a flicker of unease betraying his usually composed demeanor.

"So that I can keep her for myself, like a butterfly in a jar—fragile, beautiful, and eternally preserved," he admitted, his words hanging in the air.

Yashiro's breath caught, a subtle tension vibrating through her. The hum of a security drone filled the silence, but they remained unnoticed in their secluded corner.

"Ever caught one with your own hands?" Touma's words resonated, his eyes intense as they held Yashiro's gaze.

Yashiro met his stare, the distant buzzing of the security drone fading away. Alone in that quiet corner of the city, her heart began to pound. She shook her head.

"But you must have visited a natural science museum and seen a collection of butterfly specimens. I had one when I was a kid," he said, hands in his pockets. "Do you know why I made specimens? Because I wanted them to belong to me forever. Frozen in time. Because that way, they will never be parted from me."

"Did it work?" Yashiro asked, curiosity momentarily overpowering the unease in her voice.

Touma's brow furrowed, and he lowered his gaze. "To be honest, it felt somewhat lonely. Like—"

"No matter what you do, they’re still dead," she blurted out.

Touma observed her, his eyes thoughtful, as Yashiro turned away, navigating the narrow wall with measured steps. He matched her pace, walking parallel to the wall.

"Yashiro, have you ever held power over a human being?" Touma asked, his gait calm but purposeful.

“No, and I wouldn't take it,” she replied.

Touma shook his head, a skeptical smile lingering on his lips. “I can't believe that.”

“I've been offered it and I refused, Touma,” a hint of effort tinged Yashiro's voice.

"Why?" Touma's curiosity persisted.

“I had to.”

“Out of respect for that man?” he probed deeper.

“And myself.”

Touma sighed. "You're quite the puzzle. At times, I feel I've got you figured out, and then there are moments when it seems we're poles apart."

"Thought that too," Yashiro mumbled.

"And now you don’t?" Touma challenged gently.

Yashiro widened her eyes, looking down. "I don’t know."

“Don’t you despise every act I’ve ever committed?”

“Most of them.”

Yashiro hopped down from the wall, taking a few steps toward a narrow, downhill path between low houses. A young man on a bicycle rode slowly past her. Seeing more people walking ahead, she stopped, feeling her heart pounding slowly but strongly against her chest.

“What made you change your mind?” Touma's question lingered in the air.

"We’ve committed the same kind of treason in some way," Yashiro replied, thoughtful steps guiding her forward.

"If I have, I feel myself forgiven," Touma smiled. "Why do you say that about yourself?"

“Because it’s the truth.”

"You never learn, do you?" Touma teased gently.

"You don't know," she muttered, her expression darkening.

"No?" Touma pressed, a challenging glint in his eyes.

"You weren’t there—you saw nothing."

Touma chuckled before he asked, "What didn’t I see?"

Yashiro stopped, staring at the roof and windows of a house on one side of the narrow street, her face serious.

"It was my fault. Because of me, my parents died, and the families around were ruined. All I think about is that cop, and it’s terrifying," she raised her eyebrows, letting out a chuckle. "I shouldn’t be thinking these things, but I can’t help it, it’s something I can’t walk away from."

"That's incorrect. It’s just a choice," Touma reminded her.

“Not for me,” she sighed, lowering her gaze.

"Don’t fall into the fallacy of the false dilemma. The truth is always there. If you can't see the answer, one of the assumptions you've made and taken for granted is false.”

"The truth is, I should have been the one who died. That gun should have worked against me.”

Touma lowered his head toward her, his expression becoming more serious.

“Yashiro,” his voice deepened. "Your parents knew exactly what they were doing. You’re not responsible for them. You didn't fail anyone. They did."

Yashiro’s eyes slightly widened for a moment, and then she sighed, looking away again. "How do you stop being guilty? When is it over?"

Touma observed her calmly for a moment. She appeared serene, with a relaxed expression and her eyes narrowed, as if keeping them open demanded great effort. A memory flickered—a recollection of her visit to the zoo and her encounter with Altoromagi's lifeless body. A brief furrow creased his brow.

"I’m not sure. I wish I could help you decipher this riddle," he finally responded. "There is no regret or guilt in me. Details slipped by, but I don't question. I've embraced every moment, even the gaps and mismatches. If there were a supreme judgment, I wouldn’t present crimes but my pride in not seeking external validation. I am the author of all acts, except despising the wonder of existence and seeking justice outside myself. I don’t cry out for meaning as others do. I am the object and the meaning. Some claim happiness is unattainable. They strive for pleasure, yet it eludes them. They say they don't understand the meaning of life. There’s a particular kind of people that I despise. Those who seek a higher purpose or universal goal. I find it repulsive, this constant quest to find oneself. The noble confession of our age, don't you think? Maybe the most shameful.”

Yashiro gestured to the skyline. “See that up there? That’s the meaning of life.”

"A building?" Touma questioned, his attention now drawn to a specific structure in the distance.

"Your work. It starts from raw materials, from the very foundations, evolving through meticulous craftsmanship until it stands tall, a testament to your creativity. It serves multiple purposes, just like life."

"Are these works not astonishing?" Touma swept his arm across the panorama. "Just a few centuries ago, the less fortunate toiled for fourteen hours a day, and women dedicated their lives to washing clothes and fetching water, while the privileged enjoyed luxuries like running water. But now, thanks to increased productivity, we all revel in comforts such as running water, electric light, dishwashers, and automobiles. Whether you choose to start your own business as a woman or traverse the country by train and plane, whether you're an average worker or a millionaire, the common citizen achieves feats that were once out of reach for the wealthy. You call them social benefactors, heroes. But consider this: due to the magnitude of their successes, which we cannot match, we could argue that a leaky roof is preferable to a dazzling skyscraper with neon lights, if the roof reflects the extent of our own creative capacity."

“Don’t expect me to understand,” Yashiro frowned.

Touma laughed, and as he turned to her, his gaze lingered for a moment until his expression grew serious.

"Those recurring visions from your dreams that you shared with me, the things that chase you, they are real. Have you thought that maybe it's the guilt? Instead of evading and hiding from them, confront them head-on next time they appear. Allowing them to persist might have detrimental consequences. It might as well set you free.”

“That's what worries me.”

“Freedom,” Touma’s voice echoed. “The past cannot be undone. Recognizing the moment to move forward is crucial. Have you thought about which university to apply to?”

“Not yet.”

Touma pondered her response, his gaze distant for a moment. The wind rustled through the nearby trees, and the distant sounds of the city below carried on the breeze.

"Life does have a way of diverting our attention. Yet, education offers a unique sanctuary. A space where you can explore, question, and refine your understanding of the world. What intrigues you?"

She remained silent for a moment. "I've always been drawn to human behavior. The motives that drive us, the masks we wear, and the stories we tell ourselves."

Touma's demeanor shifted, his gaze piercing and intense. His eyes, sharp and analytical, seemed to delve into the depths of Yashiro's thoughts. Without a word, his stillness conveyed a profound understanding, as if he were deciphering the intricacies of her soul before he spoke.

"Psychology, criminal profiling, perhaps? Delving into the complexities of the human mind to unravel the mysteries that drive individuals to extremes. The study of patterns, the art of deduction. It mirrors your interest in deciphering the hidden, doesn't it?”

Yashiro's eyes widened slightly as she met his gaze.

"Understanding the minds of those who deviate from societal norms, deciphering the tales written in their actions," Touma continued.

Yashiro's body language betrayed a mix of captivation and unease in response to Touma's understanding. Her eyes, usually composed, now held a flicker of irritation, as if he had intruded upon a realm she preferred to keep private. The subtle clenching of her jaw and the tension in her posture hinted at an underlying frustration.

"I always questioned whether their commitment to saving souls matches their desire to salvage their own. It’s a perpetual wonder for me. Whom are they truly attempting to rescue, and from what?” Touma remarked, but she chose to remain silent. “There's still much for you to discover. Perhaps even about yourself.”

“And are you absolutely certain you've got it all figured out?”

“I always am,” he smiled.

“Why teaching?” Yashiro challenged.

“I don’t follow…” his brows furrowed as he turned his head to the side slightly, his expression turning serious.

“You studied politics, yet you ended up in a mundane classroom in a conservative school surrounded by people you disdain. Instead of commanding attention in grand scenarios followed by cameras and thunderous applause, you choose to deliver lessons day by day like a drone. The only aspect of teaching you seem to enjoy is the moment you can finally step out to admire the sculpture.”

Touma laughed, shaking his head briefly.

“That was true initially,” he narrowed his eyes, pausing as his gaze fixed on her shoulder and his expression became more composed again. “I think I was drawn to the idea of being able to influence or be a meaningful part of someone else’s life.”

“You mean to direct it for them.”

“I prefer to say guide,” Touma tilted his head to the side, waving his hand in front of him gently. “If people were wrong less often and had their own ideas, my life would be much easier.”

“And less smug.”

Touma raised an eyebrow. "Consider it a side effect of wisdom."

A subtle, almost imperceptible smile graced Yashiro's face—a rare sight, a delicate curve playing on her lips, catching Touma off guard. He found himself mirroring the expression, realizing that, perhaps, he had witnessed the first smile of her day.

As Yashiro turned and continued walking down the middle of the street, Touma easily caught up with her due to the height difference, standing by her side. His gaze scanned the silent houses around. A security drone whizzed past them, disappearing behind without reacting to their presence.

A flash blending with reality made him frown, and he lowered his gaze to Yashiro, who was one step ahead of him. With her hands in the pockets of her black dress pants, the holographic lines of her blazer flickered for a moment before disappearing.

“I really must introduce you to a good holo-designer to fix that for you,” Touma commented.

Almost at the end of the street, Yashiro stopped, looking at the corner that opened onto another street and then the narrow passage beside her, between low houses and a low wall with a railing stretching along the road, revealing people walking many meters below. When Touma halted beside her, Yashiro changed direction, entering the passage.

If she had done it a moment earlier, Touma would not have frowned or adjusted his black tie. His smile faded. Accustomed to aimless walks, the abrupt change prompted him to scan the surroundings again. No security drones or scanners here, but unlike the previous quiet and empty street, they observed a young couple and two men on this one.

“I've had it since I was a child. It can still last a few more years,” sighed Yashiro, taking her white compact from her pocket and deactivating her outfit. Its hologram disappeared in a second.

Touma noticed a line on the compact when Yashiro closed it, indicating it had fallen out several times over the years. She then tucked it into an inside pocket of her black bomber jacket, hands in the outside ones. Unlike her holographic blazer, it came to her waist and, together with her black jeans and sneakers, contrasted with Touma's three-piece suit without holograms.

Touma could not understand why her attire gave an impression of luxury until he realized it was the luxury of austerity. Modest in monetary value, yet she turned every house they entered into a castle.

He raised an eyebrow, recalling her recoil when he approached—an almost imperceptible movement he had never seen before. He did not need to chase people; others sought him out.

Yashiro had not taken her eyes off him since his arrival, not turning her back on him when they were alone. She looked like an animal, a wary cat analyzing surroundings, though her exterior showed no such signs.

Touma squinted as he heard screams, gasps, banging on metal, and strains of a piano. He felt a warm liquid cover his hands, a trickle running down his wrist and following the veins. Clear in the light, in its absence, it turned black. On the sleeve of his red shirt, it seemed a dark shade coloring the fabric.

A laugh made him suddenly open his eyes. The first thing he saw was Yashiro slightly turning in his direction, walking at a slower pace. Her gaze, relaxed and serious, shifted from him to the couple walking near them, laughing as they shared anecdotes, until she turned back to the road.

Touma's gaze rested on her brown hair, a serious expression and a frown as if solving a mathematical problem. The faces of Hashida and Altoromagi crossed his mind—a kind of face he expected in humans. Yet, he faced someone conveying something different, though of a thinner and more fragile build.

The path Yashiro chose, with human presence but lacking security drones and scanners, seemed eccentric. People usually gravitate towards the security of the Sibyl System, yet Yashiro opted for the latter, as if more confident that the presence of fellow humans would act as a deterrent for any potential harm. It was as though she believed in the unspoken pact of societal norms, where the watchful eyes of others were a greater safeguard than the protection of drones.

Touma could not help but wonder if her choice was a strategic one, a subtle challenge that relied on the assumption that, in the presence of witnesses, any potential threats would be held at bay. He pondered whether her trust in the societal fabric, where the watchful eyes of fellow humans served as a deterrent to harm, was a deliberate safeguard against dangers that might lurk in the absence of the protective gaze of the Sibyl System.

Touma understood the discomfort he felt since she changed direction, prompting him to follow her—a discomfort and satisfaction that should come from sensing the presence of an animal fleeing a predator. Yet, she revealed no such indications, only simple understanding, and the only thing he felt was a need to laugh without malice.

“What is it?” Yashiro asked without looking at him.

Touma raised an eyebrow, his mind going blank as if slapped.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he began, the words hanging in the air with a certain weight.

“Me?” Yashiro’s voice echoed.

“In this transient world, where everything is fleeting and forgotten, there exists an unconventional path to eternal remembrance. I believe I’ve found a solution to the immortality puzzle we were discussing the other day.”

“You have?” Yashiro's tone retained its measured coldness, devoid of malice or indifference.

Touma studied her for a moment, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

“For millennia, it's been right in front of mankind, but your existence has cast a peculiar light on it for me.”

“What is it?”

“The beginning and the end of it all—death.”

Yashiro's gaze, once steady and distant, now carried a weight, as if the gravity of Touma's words had settled upon her shoulders. Her posture, rigid yet fragile, hinted at the conflicting emotions within. A subtle tension in the line of her jaw and the slight furrow of her brow betrayed a mixture of sadness and anger, like an intricate dance of emotions beneath a composed exterior.

As they continued down the narrow passage, the cityscape transformed. The hustle and bustle of a larger street emerged, with traffic and a sea of faces surrounding them. Yashiro turned towards a side street, and Touma, catching up with her, could not help but remark, “I’ve got to ask you, Yashiro. It’s been driving me crazy.”

Yashiro halted and turned around.

“What?”

“Your phone.”

“What’s wrong with my phone?” Yashiro pulled her black phone out of the outside pocket of her bomber jacket.

“I notice you checking the time every five minutes like a little girl on her first date.”

Yashiro sighed and looked away. “You’re annoyingly observant, aren’t you?”

“Only you can be?”

“It’s important to keep track of time, isn’t it?”

“Only the right one.”

“It's no big deal, Touma. I just have an appointment with my landlord,” she shrugged. Touma’s brows raised, and his lips parted as he gazed at her. “What?”

Touma sighed and smiled, silent for a moment.

“Now, this is the kind of motivation anyone needs to forgive you for skipping classes or being late. I know you've been working hard all these years. You must be really proud.”

“I’m missing the point. And I doubt the teachers would see it that way.”

"They don’t know you’re on your own. You should be proud. I am,” Touma’s relaxed and serious gaze lingered on her until he made a slight nod.

A moment of silence hung between them. Yashiro's eyes met Touma's, a flicker of surprise hidden beneath her composed exterior. The weight of his gaze, usually analytical and composed, now carried an unexpected gravity, a touch of genuine concern.

“Yashiro, I’d love to go wherever you’re going, but our paths diverge here,” he let the words linger, a thoughtful expression on his face. A rare pause, a break in the usual banter. "Take care of yourself."

Yashiro nodded slightly, the unexpected sincerity leaving a subtle imprint on her features. Touma, still oblivious to the unspoken pause, turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Yashiro's gaze followed him briefly before she turned around and crossed the street.

After a few minutes, Touma glanced back, hands tucked into his pants pockets. Observing Yashiro on the block across the street engaged in conversation with a man taller than her, he witnessed the amicable exchange before the man gestured toward a building—presumably her new residence for the next few years. Touma's gaze lowered for a moment, a subtle smile gracing his lips. Then, he turned away once more, blending into the bustling crowd.

****

Thanks for reading. I apologize for the delay, I've got a ton of stuff going on and it takes me a while to write. I hope this chapter hasn't been too dense, it's a flaw I've always had when writing, and I'm working on improving it.

The original story is still posted on AO3. I'm publishing this one separately here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52036102. In the notes of the first chapter, I'm keeping track of the chapters that differ from what I wrote years ago :)

#psycho pass fanfiction

[keeganbooks]

KNOWING YOUR BIBLE

March 12, 2023. Dear Friends, Our blog during this third week of Lent will continue on our study of Jesus Christ. our Lord and Savior. Lenton season has been defined as a Holy time, a time of fasting and penitence, humbling ourselves as we follow Jesus during the last weeks of his life through his crucifixion and resurrection. The season lasts 40 days, from Ash Wednesday which this year is on February 22, through Easter Day, on April 9, celebrating Jesus’ resurrection that occurred more than 2000 years ago. A special emphasis on Jesus’ life, his humanity and how he lived while here on earth, have been focused on in the previous first two weeks of Lent. Go to the website above left to review those blogs as we continue our series during Lent. 

In each of the gospel books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, there are Bible verses written that state that Jesus went throughout the Galilee and in the Jericho and Jerusalem areas teaching and healing the many. These verses will be listed below. Jesus’ birth, life, death by crucifixion, and his resurrection, are written in the Gospel Books. If time allows, choose one of the Gospel Books that are located in the New Testament in the Bible, to read and contemplate on Jesus during Lenton Season. Reading 1-2 chapters daily about Jesus will bring one nearer and closer to him. That is the purpose of this blog, to help anyone who wants to learn and know about Jesus and learn the Bible. One should be able to reach these goals through following this weekly blog. The joy, peace and serenity one experiences in developing a relationship with Jesus is almost beyond describing the joyous feelings that comes from knowing and following Jesus.

In last week’s blog, the focus was on Jesus’ “direct teachings” to his followers. He used direct teachings, using direct wording when trying to relay certain ideas and messages to his followers. In this week’s discussion, the focus will be on the parables Jesus used to teach his followers. A parable has been defined in Webster’s New World Dictionary as “a short, simple story teaching a moral lesson. Usually, the reader of a parable has to think about what is being taught, before comprehending the meaning of the story. it is not unusual that two different readers of the same parable will interpret the story differently. It is also not unusual for a reader to not comprehend the parable the same way each time the parable is read. Because of space limitation, only a few Bible verses below will be listed that contain some of the parables that Jesus taught.  All verses are from the New Revised Standard (NRS) Version of the Bible.

                     MAY GOD BLESS YUR BIBLE STUDY THIS WEEK!

Bible Verses: Verses on Healing and teaching: Matthew, chapter 4, verses 23-25; chapter 11, verses 1 and verses 12-15.  Mark, chapter 6, verses 6-7; chapter 8, verses 22-25   Luke, chapter 5, verse 17. Verses on Jesus’ direct teachings are throughout the book of John.                                                                      Parables: Matthew, chapter 13, verses 1-51. Mark, chapter 4, verses 1-34. Luke, chapter 8, verses 4-8; and verses 11-18; chapter 12, verses 13-21; Chapter 14, verses 15-21; and chapter 15, verses 11-32.

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

#shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #bnha shouto #yandere shouto #shouto x you #yandere #Yandere bnha #Yandere mha #sugar daddy lol #sugar daddy shouto #Shouto smut #Yandere shoto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto #Shoto smut #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #tw.coercion #tw.manipulation #tw.abuse of power #tw.abuse of trust

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Right Now

A/N

This is going to be very short, I need to work myself back into this. Been gone for a hot minute and of course it needs to be a lil spicy because why wouldn’t it be... basically just porn

Summary : After a rough case you need the mental repair that being with Aaron provides.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fingering, penetrative sex

Word Count - 1.8k

Material list

........................................

Your eyes were fixated on the curve of his face. His jawline that was covered i stubble from the days passing by, the softness of his hair. His eyes set on the road ahead.

He could feel your eyes burning a hole on the side of his face. It was moments like these that he’d pull your body as close as possible. He loved that look you had in your eyes when you admired him.

He turned his head for a second and glanced at you.

With your hands in your lap, the streetlights on your face, and your soft features he wanted to kiss you. You slowly grinned and when he looked back at the road you could see his dimples making an appearance.

The car gradually came to a stop and he took the opportunity. Leaning over to you he placed his hand behind your neck and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss had a low heat. Sweet and innocent but all it did was creek open the gate. A solid green light filled the car and he had no choice but to pull away.

You continued to admire the man sitting in the driver’s seat... your man. “How’re you feeling gorgeous?” Aaron asked while at another light and his hand intertwined with yours.

Squeezing a little tighter you answer, "I'm good. Really good." He can hear your grin as the car moves forwards.

"Do I have anything to do with that?" He asks.

"Baby you're the only thing in my life right now that brings me joy." Aaron brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it.

"I know you've been having a rough time recently... I'm here for you." He says quietly. Aarons been by your side for two years. He's seen all sides of you ugly and sweet.

Case after case you sense a small piece being chipped off your heart but every moment with Aaron repairs that hole.

You take care of each other and you wouldn't want anyone else. He understands you completely. Mentally and physically.

Aaron Hotchner is the best thing to ever happen to you.

"You always are." He returned your hands into your lap.

What felt like half an hour was really only five minutes. From Aarons heavy sigh you could tell he wanted to hit the bed as much as you did.

“Can you pull over?” He contemplated it, you had been driving for twenty minutes now and you still had another twenty to go.

You guys were driving from the crime scene, instead of heading to the station you all agreed that you wanted to rest.

Aaron gave in and pulled into a rest area.

He put the car in park and looked at you. You tugged on his hand, “Lets just take a nap... I'll put the seats down.” From there you climbed over the center console and reclined the seats.

“Come here.” You said, laughing as you watched Aaron climb into the back.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He wrapped his arms around you and tugged you closer.

“I wasn’t laughing, I was... just thinking how much I love you.” He hummed and kissed your forehead.

"I love you too", you threw your leg over his hip and nudged your head into his neck. A gentle kiss on his skin turned into multiple.

Slowly you kept adding to the ones that were there previously and you noticed a small groan.

He could feel your smirk and his grip on you tightened. His hand slid from his stomach to your thigh, pressing you into him further.

Shifting your thigh over his hips he slipped you into his lap. His hands gravitated to your waist and held you.

"What happened to taking a nap", Aaron mumbled against your shoulder. You pulled up and slid your hands to his pecs.

"I still want to... but I don't think Reid would appreciate hearing us moan." He groaned deeply, moving your lower half on his growing erection.

"You've got a point." You tossed your head back as he started peppering your neck. "Was this your plan to get me alone... use me?" With one hand on his chest and one behind his head you pull him closer.

"Mhmm, got a problem with that?" You shifted in his lap, getting yourself off and moaning in his ear.

"Much better." Aaron mumbled while lying you down on your back. Lifting your t-shirt over your head he latched one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Absolutely not." He groaned, hands tugged at the waistband of your pants. Laughter fell from your lips while he pulled at your dress pants.

So warm, gently grazing his teeth over the bud. You inhaled deeply, wrapping your legs around his center.

Letting out a high pitched whine Aaron dipped the tip of his fingers into your underwear. He paused his movements and you saw his smug smirk.

"This is what you want?"

"Don't tease me." You moaned.

"I would never." He chuckled, nipping up and down your body until he got directly over your pussy.

When you felt the delicious swipe of his tongue on your cunt your thighs clenched together and your hand gravitated to his hair.

Pulling at the strains you resisted from pulling him up and seating yourself on his cock.

Your eyes shut tight as he easily slid his finger into you, curling upwards to hit the spot he knew you pushed you over the edge. You took deep breaths, calming yourself down from the pins and needles flooding your limbs.

"Baby-", you whispered, getting closer you didn't want it to stop but your body was reaching its point.

Your orgasm built a wall that quickly crumbled when you felt the euphoria inside spread. Aaron could feel you tipping over, he took out his finger and slowly helped you ride it out with the gentle swipe of his tongue on your clit.

You exhaled and pulled his body over yours. He saw your half lidded expression and the small grin and smiled.

"Are you okay?", he spoke sweetly.

You pressed your palm to his cheek, "I'm fantastic. God the things your mouth can do."

He sat you up and kissed your jaw, "I can do a lot of things." 

Your fingers played with the buttons of his dress shirt, "Cocky." He reached over into the cup and gave you a bottle of water. 

“You look like you need it.” 

“Well I was about to blow you but this is good too.” You both cracked a smile and he watched you swallow every drop of water. His fingers brushing back the damp pieces of hair on your face.

As soon as you were done your fingers were on him in a second. With his chest exposed you ran your hand down the curves of his torso. Down his sides feeling every muscle he had.

Drifting south you palmed his bulge.

You hummed unbuckling his belt, “So hard for me.” You mumbled under your breath. He helped you take off his pants and now he was as exposed as you.  

You stroked your hand up and down, watching his tip leak pre cum. He groaned as you got closer and closer to wrapping your lips around him.

His fingers grabbed the back of head, holding your hair so he could get the best view he could. 

He inhaled strongly when he finally felt your warm lips engulf his tip. You could feel him twitching against your tongue, your touch, exactly how you liked it. 

“You can take all of it sweetheart.” Aaron unconsciously bucked his hips forwards. And he was right, you quickly took all you were able to. He was in the back of your throat and you swallowed. 

Pulling back up with the same suction you hear Aaron moan. Flicking your eyes up you see his head tipped back on the seat, eyes on you. 

When he met your gaze he pulls you off and into his lap. “I think that's enough", he says roughly. In the same breath he’s lifting you up, sight still on you and you sink onto him. 

Buried to the hilt, relief is all that was in your mind. Focused on how he held your hips with such care, bringing you up and dropping you down. He guided every movement. 

He moaned into your ear with every stroke.

You liked that he was vocal with you. Before he didn’t seem like the type but as soon as you heard the sound you were drunk with it. 

You grabbed his left hand and brought it to your throat. He met your eyes and smirked while squeezing the sides of your neck. Bringing you in he smashed your lips with his, running his tongue along yours. Gently nipping at your bottom lip.

Your thighs burned from the constant movement, “I can’t.” Out of breath you slowed down and resorted to rolling your hips over his cock. 

He loved how you tossed your head back and how it gave him more access than before. His lips locked with your blistering hot skin.

With every thrust your clit rubbed against his pelvis, “Aaron.” 

His hand left your throat and into your hair, “That’s okay baby... get yourself off on me.” You brought your hand to your clit. 

“Can you cum for me.” 

Eager to please him, you followed the instruction. You could tell he was getting just as much out of it, watching you was a sight to see. 

You started to lose it again, pins flowing through your veins. Vision faded to black as you finished. 

Aaron cursed under his breath while riding out both of your highs. 

You rested your forehead on his and laughed and set a long kiss on his lips. “Can you hand me that water.” Aaron asked, still kissing you. 

“You were right before.” Your eyebrows scrunched together. “Reid wouldn’t want to hear that.” 

“Oh.” You smiled till the sides of your eyes crinkled. “See, I on the other hand loved it.” 

“It’s because you love me.” 

“Very true.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. You sat there on his lap for ten extra minutes until you both decided it was time to actually sleep. 

You reassured him that this time you weren’t going to jump him... not that he’d have a problem with it anyway. 

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron #hotch #fanfic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #writing #oneshot #blurb