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theantarwitch · 2 years

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About gods, afterlifes and universes - My point of view.

This pretty much a not witchy post, but more like a long ass rant of something I had in mind since a long time, buried in myself because I have no one to listen me speak about this kind of weird spiritual stuffs, and I really want to express it somehow. Is my vision of how deities and afterlifes works, having in mind that the world is filled with religions and worldviews.

My grandma (who I didn’t knew but people said was a witch) used to say “Each person is a world”, and with the pass of the years, I cannot agree more.

Not only because each person has their own desires and ideas, tastes and dreams, ideals, thoughts, but also because is true, we are small worlds. Inside us live billons of billons of countless creatures from many shapes, forms and sizes. Since huge cells like eggs, to the smallest useless virus, friendly bacteria, parasites, funkies cells, aggressive defensive cells, fungui in our feets, mites in our skin, blood cells walking each corner of our bodies.

Each part of our bodies has a different pool of bacteria, a different group of cells, almost as if they are some kinds of countries in that small weird moving planet called “us”. Us, with our personal countries, walking around on earth, so different and similar to other people, they with their own personal unique countries. Only between humans, but what between you and a cat? Or a cat and a tree? So many differences. But all based in that ocean of living things that co-exist somehow in balance.

What we know about them? Only because our technology allows us to see until certain point, it doesn’t mean the worlds end there. Humans keep discovering smaller and smaller part of atoms, as if there is no END. Maybe each blood cell has inside millons, and millons inside them, and so on until our minds are unable to comprehend the limits. Our minds unable to comprehend if they are sentient, just because we don’t speak their language. Dang it, we don’t even speak “dog” or “cat” and they are fricking big living things who somehow understand our moods and are able to sense storms and smell carcinogenic cells. For us, ants are just stupid bugs, just because they can’t speak human and use a cellphone, no matter if they work collectively and in harmony in ways that human never did before, no matter if they contruct bridges with their own bodies and harvest fungui in their homes. They are dumb ants.

And we can extrapolate the same to the other side. What’s the world, but a mass of millons and millons of living things, encapsulated in countries, so different between others animals and plants, but all living in that unconscient rock. Because is unconscient… right? Right?

Is not like we can’t speak “earth language” … And to the planet, we are smaller than our blood cells to ourselves.

But maybe the earth does speak. Maybe is speaking all the time with the moon, maybe have centuries long discussions with the sun, maybe they are just going somewhere with Saturn, maybe the Halley’s Comet is just a fly that is doing a few spins around us before Jupiter slap it.

And to our galaxy, the planets are not more than ants. And to the universe, galaxies are not more than ants. And who knows to what, our universe is no more than ants.

Each person is a world. And each world is a person.

And just like that, each person has their own “hell and heaven”.

Some old dude in a radio said this idea: “Let’s pretend my aunt loves me af, and I hate my aunt. If my aunt dies and go to heaven, she will want to be around the ones she loves, including me. But I hate her. Is her heaven my hell? If my heaven doesn’t include her, where I will be? With her?”

I like to think that, in this case, your aunt will have just a copy of yourself. The original you will be in where you belong. And where you belong after die? It depends your beliefs.

My dumb idea is: Your afterlife depends to which afterlife you believe.

You are a Christian who believe in their God and the hell and heaven? When you die, you will be judged in accordance to his “moral code” and you will go to hell (endless physical and psychological torture depending on what you hate or make you hurt) or heaven (with God or with all what you like).

You are atheist and you believe after die your soul just disappear? That will happen.

You are Buddhist and you believe in reincarnation? You will reincarnate in accordance of your Karma.

You are a witch who believe that good souls will go another plane of pure bliss? That will happen.

You are a Muslim? Jewish? Hindu? You believe on Greek Pantheon? Old Egyptian afterlife? The endless void? Parallel universes? What you believe is what you will get.

Each person is a world. And as such, have their own plane of beliefs, heaven, hells, gods, energies.

Who knows, maybe each one of the almost endless living things in and inside us have the same. Maybe our own planet will have a heaven or hell.

Because for us is hard to understand the world in the eyes of other living things. For us walk with two feets is normal. Live inside a box, with a screen in our hands, covered by false furr, drinking water and eating bread is normal. To an elephant, normal is walk in four legs, have a thick skin, a long trunk, eat from trees and wander free for the African savanna. Maybe to our planet, normal is have lava wander in their insides, covered with water, air and crust, dancing around a massive orb of fire in the darkness of the solar system.

And all that make other’s beliefs less valid? Not even close. Everyone must be respected on their beliefs, even if they don’t believe the same than us. If they are not assholes, of course.

What I believe? I’m not sure, my idea is pretty Buddhist in some way. I think after die, our souls go somewhere. Maybe, if we were good, our still sentient souls can go to a place to rest after the struggles of the life on earth, and in some point, choose to reborn as some of the millons of living things in this or other universe, to learn and grow. Maybe, if we were bad, we will born again, in a life where we struggle accordingly to the suffering we induce in this life.

Maybe in some point, after born and grow, we will experience lifes each time richer, until eventually we find out the truth of the existence, the root of all, the ones, or the many, the entity that carry all the universes in their hair.

#spiritual #spirituality #spirit #soul #afterlife #hell #heaven #god #gods #deity #deities #witchcraft #witch #wicca #wiccan #pagan #paganism #pantheon #witchy

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mostotherthings · 3 months

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I... like The Sign. A lot.

And maybe I'm the only person who doesn't think that Episode 11 has that amount of plot holes and Episode 11 does not make Tharn stupid (if he's stupid, ALL the characters are stupid- OK maybe that's a decent point too)

There are comments out there that I thought about that seem a bit harsh to the characters in the show.

Not all characters know what's going on (even our main characters)

maybe some personal points to note about me - I am Asian and live in an Asian country (but not Thai), and my religion involves icons (lots of Gods that take care of different things in our lives), similar to Thai Buddhism. Someone close to me was once part of the uniformed services in an Asian country

For Phaya's grandma, Paranee and Dujdao to say things like, "maybe he shouldn't be a policeman, maybe he should quit", these are conversations I heard every single day previously. In our society where your choice of a job affects you and your family's status/pov of other's towards you (in good or bad ways), your relatives are always going to have opinions of what you do, period. Even if you turn 50, 60. Your sibling is going to be the one with beef. Oh, and your friends judge you too, especially those who see you like family. (A good partner is a lawyer, doctor. Your partner is a policeman/fireman? Isn't that dangerous?)

A death of a family member at young age changes everything about you. Tharn has a loving grandmother, but he made complaints to his dad before they died, and this sticks with you. "Our last conversation ended badly and after that he died". Some people's natural response is to stop talking much or stop expressing opinions. I've heard it many times at funerals, "I should have been better to him before he died- I should have listened - We should have been nicer and more understanding- I should have been here in time to see him for one last time". Hindsight is always 20/20, no? I would think that Tharn's singular desire to be part of elite police forces is to solve his parents' mystery and right the "wrong" he did before they died. He really cannot believe that doing this let him meet Phaya.

Tharn meets Chalothon at a young age. This guy, whatever kind of doctor he is, has placed himself into Tharn's life from young and made himself the "perfect big brother". There's no reason for Tharn to be suspicious until he overhears the conversation the Abbot and Phaya have at the grave. I'm sure his mind has been trying to justify Chalothon's behaviour, but at this point, he doesn't know the seriousness of Chalothon's desire until the fall off the cliff and Chalothon's real face. You can't underestimate how sly people are, and how they're able to keep a benevolent presence in front of others while actually they are just, bad people. (ok but a psy doctor, doing drug tests is ???? but i take it on the logic that Tharn knows Chalothon who will know a good doctors, who can take care of these for him. This is basically how I found the person who installed air conditioners in my house- someone i knew, knows someone reliable who does that kind of work)

Grandma and the Abbot, in not telling Tharn abt Chalothon, did it to protect him. So yes, you can say, that's not protecting him. in context, Gods can do whatever they want. We have Gods that protect our household, our health, wealth, etc etc. Our is a system of good karma means a continued good and smooth life. God don't always come in to solve our problems or show the way- Gods can punish us if we do the wrong thing. When I was young my school arranged a trip to a "theme park" that had laid out the punishments you would receive if you break precepts or disobey your parents/elders. There's 18 stages of hell, each for the level of "crime" that you did. It was 3D to me, suddenly. And let's not forget about reincarnation too! After we get punished, our souls renew and what we become (an animal, what kind of animal, a human, a rich or poor human), depends on the karma we achieve in this lifetime. When we say, "in my next life, I hope to see you again"- we mean it. When we have a bad relationship with someone, we often say offhand "that person's so bad to me because I owe him a debt from a previous lifetime"

So our fear of Gods, our fear of breaking the precepts, especially if you grew up in households like Phaya's or Tharns, or you are an Abbot like Luang Por, is there. So if I were Grandma, terrified seeing this snake God in the house looking to take away the only family member I have left in my life, I will try to keep him away, but I won't say anything to Tharn. The Gods are listening. If my Tharn knew about this, would Chalothon not even give me the time I have now, to be with this person I love?

Since Episode 3, when they established the Naga lore, I had a feeling that this is not going to be easy for international fans to understand. But I didn't expect the amount of "stupid Phaya" and "stupid Tharn" to come out of the last few episodes. (I mean, by all means, the police procedure is the part we HAVE to be making fun of, but generally I've grown up with television series that sort of ignore real life to "create plot points" so I've grown a tolerance). Coupled with how generally "being gay" is still something that we don't always share with people, even if they are family, that's what the show has kind of built itself on.

Phaya and Tharn are not communicating well because they believe their silence will save the other. The Abbot and Grandma are both keeping quiet because they understand the power of the Gods, and how if they slip up, Tharn can be taken away from them. There's also an urgency in Wawisa's warning "if Tharn is taken away this time, there will be no return" (this has no Lore that I know if, but i go along with it coz it is a "PLOT POINT"). Even Akk, almost sworn brother of Tharn, has decided to keep silent- losing Tharn, means letting Tharn's father down. He's already lost people to this investigation (Tharn's Dad, that Lt in the beginning sorry forgot his name, and now maybe even Chart). To lose his almost adoptive's father's son- that's unimaginable to him too.

The key to a good relationship is communication, but the fear of losing someone may also cause you to hide things from them. This is human nature, so in this aspect, I feel the drama is very real.

In Episode 11, Phaya asked Tharn to let go because he doesn't want Tharn to die. In the next, Tharn will let go (leave), because he doesn't want Phaya (and everyone else) to die. A God's threat cannot be ignored easily. We want him to fight, but Tharn is already frightened. What if he fights, and everyone dies? He can't ask everyone to make that sacrifice for him. Someone (his parents) have already died.

For a first time director, A has been amazing to me. It also shows that he was/still is an acting teacher on set- every choice, every expression, every movement he has asked the actors to do, has been done with great thought and deliberation. And Babe- he still needs work, but so far, he has been very good. and Billy as Phaya, he fights with Tharn, he complains and whines, he makes some laughs, and I personally feel he's improved a lot since SCOY.

So even if they bomb the last episode (lol, yeah that threat is still there), I have found the Sign enjoyable and a series that's becoming close to my heart because it aligns with me and my personal beliefs.

Lol, I don't even know why I'm saying all this and even if I'm making sense but I have just got to let it out. Maybe I just wanted to share my opinion, that Episode 11 isn't really all that bad.

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cobaltsunflower · 4 months

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Language accessibility issues in Vietnam

You know what fucking pissed me the fuck off? The fact that the Vietnamese landscape is slowly but surely becoming more inaccessible to Vietnamese people themselves.

What do i mean by this? So many fucking surfaces are now displaying English ONLY.

This doesn't sounds like much shits to the youths who are english-savvy or at least eating up the english stuffs since it make them feel "modern" and "trendy". But assholes who think this is fine are so self-absorbed that they forget what this country's official language is or how many percentage of the population even knows english.

You have not experienced how fucking alienating and dehumanizing this is until you have seen my grandma trying so hard just to find a mobile farming game in Vietnamese. The only good available one previously was Hay Day, which apparently the company in charge of the Vietnamese translation has gave up on and left for dead some how, i don't know the details. Now she is playing a version that must be downloaded with an american apple id, and has to ask grandpa to log into every time the game demanded an update.

This evening her hay day lagged and crashed, so she tried to find an alternative farming game. And like, there are so few options in Vietnamese it's straight up enraging me. Even those Made by Vietnamese developers are in English, and they don't even have the decency to have a Vietnamese option. She downloaded an English one and had to ask me for translation for all the tasks and dialogues in the game. And it's so sad to see she has to use another phone with ggl translate to understand it when i'm not available.

But this is just what is happening to us, a middle class family with half the members fluent in english. What about all the normal people, the older generations, the poor people who cannot study english.

On the streets i'm increasingly seeing new storefronts blasted in big shiny english names, with no further explanation of what it sells. High-end products made with english labels. Hell, i have even seen advertising billboards in all english. And like, mobile apps by foreign developers not having vietnamese is one thing, but Vietnamese-made apps not even have a second language option is just flipping people off.

And you can say these apps are trying to market for, and reach, a foreign market. But then pray tell, does it fucking hurts to made another version in vietnamese? You are literally narrowing your userbase by not selling the language of the country you are selling things in. At least don't name it in vietnamese if you can't even be bothered to put the language in.

And i'm so fucking enraged at the awful implications of this trend. This is literally volunteering to eliminate our own national language in favour of catering to foreign superpowers. Which is fucking horrible when you consider the vietnamese language has survived thousand years of imperialism and colonialism, only to be faced with the ignorant money-hungry business people jumping on the trendy bandwagon.

And ALSO, i know how ironic it is that I, the perpetually-online english-fluent youth, is saying all of this, in english nonetheless. But the matter of fact is it's a thing that looms in the horizon that scares the hell out of me. Like, speak english all you want but if your consumer products does not have basic language accessibility for the particular country then you are contributing to something larger and much more sinister.

I'm fucking pissed off rn and cannot reach a point or a conclusion for the life of me but by lord please understand how fucking horrible this this, not just for vietnam but for other non-english countries as well.

This is in the end just a big rant stemmed from shitty products inconveniencing my granny, but also i need to point out this societal problem that i've noticed for a while as well. If you have reached here thank you for your time. Here's a potato for the rant!

#vietnam #vietnamese #rant #accessibility #nonsense

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the-firebird69 · 7 months

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Watch "Fears for Britney Spears after she posts knife dance video" on YouTube

youtube

And his grandma saw him do this that's what he's saying but he doesn't understand why she would do it and what it would mean she's wearing different outfits and it's like other women and it's more like Becca thinking she can get away with it but she might not know that she's actually in her body and she got sick and it said the problem is a lot more worse and she said why I said because something happened to Ken before he was president and she said oh no I'm in a lot of trouble and she checked and she figured it out and said that's bad and really she was used to transport the program we think and her body is walking around without her brain I like Ken who has his brain it was a mistake by JC and she made a huge mistake and that's Mary and we're going after them shortly we had to find out what the hell's going on that's very evil what they did he's been saying it too are you people on crack this stuff is nasty as hell now we have the coordinates I'm going to look and see what it is and we do is see what he's saying there's an order to it and then his brother might be saying it then we're going to check it out it is a kju and it can become human size it's a mega mutant and he's not he's human that's our friend keep it straight or we will straighten you out and stand inviting you're not welcome to my stuff stop trying to take it or you'll be hit like these people are

Mac Daddy and where the McDonald's not the max

We're going to get hit and attacked by this big group it's huge we can take it down eventually they're going to try other stuff like right now they're going for all these ships granted they sat here and let the place smell like s*** and they all get sick and half of them fall out of the sky and we're tired of these people they're still playing on attacking and tons of them are coming out okay this is a humongous humongous show I've never seen so many spaceships in my life coming out of the ground it's like a hornet's nest and there's more elsewhere this ridiculous

Stan

We're going to get a tax Star wars the movie is going to start and finally going somewhere doing something this is despicable will you people are doing here and to us and to him you're despicable losers and morons you turn on your own and your own group and you're turning on an allies now we're not allies anymore you're dead you more like a dead

Biden I'm going to order you to cut the check if you don't you're fired I'm going to the next people and we'll keep doing it and I have to talk to McDonald's and the max but really it's a good idea and you people are very lame he's perfectly within the law because he cannot access the money and he's tried and he told social security and they checked into it and your liars and you're wrong and you're looking for people who said that they're all over the place because they verified it and sent it in and they're going out to you for it and you're getting very small and the next round of attacks is going to be fatal you're going to be gone they're trying to attack me if Stone chips to go after and other things in your just a mess I can't stand you and most people can't

#Youtube

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diaryoftheunidropout · 11 months

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DAY 92

I feel like utter shit.

About a day or two before I left for this camping car trip I started stressing out because I knew it was going to be hell for me with my OCD. Basically, the entire thing is, in my head, dirty. At all times. Except maybe the bed, which inevitably gets dirty because I'm never perfectly clean. Which means I never actually feel fully clean :')

I could bear it so far, but things keep getting worse. Not just this but also the fact I cannot stand to see my mom so proud of herself for "eating twice a day" even though all she is doing is eating barely as much as she usually would in one meal, but spread over two meals. And she's convincing herself that this is what two whole meals are. And she's proud of herself. And every 5 seconds I'm THIS CLOSE to snapping back at her but I know that would be so fucking shitty because she's an anorexic and even if it's not much, or practically nothing, it's still an effort. And I want to encourage her, but how can I encourage her when what she's doing is still REALLY harmless and she's convincing herself it's good for her?!

Secondly, my grandma on my dad's side is sick. Probably because her cleaning lady who comes once a week did not wear a mask although she was fucking sick, possibly with Covid. I fucking despise people. I'm really worried about my grandma. She's really tired and has a big fever. I'm praying she'll be okay soon. Have I mentioned I hate people?

Thirdly, things got a bit strange with my grandpa. At dinner we talked about my plans for the future and I basically explained I didn't know what I was going to do, and he turned quiet, just like my grandma did when I explained it to her just a few hours before we left for our trip. They don't say anything but I know they're fucking disappointed because they will never see, never know, never understand that I am MENTALLY ILL. Very ill. And that's why I can't do shit. Worse thing is, when I jokingly said "I'm going to become a prostitute", my grandpa said, not looking me in the eyes, with a face torn with disgust and just looking so condescending, he said he would be really disappointed. A calm tone but you could feel all the disgust, and even if it was just a joke, the fact he could be disgusted of me, his OWN BLOOD, just made me feel so... wrong.

I finished reading "Loveless" by Alice Oseman. It was amazing. I also read a second book.

I just got out the shower and my grandpa got angry at me for being in there too long although the water was running for no more than 4 minutes I think? I don't know.

I feel shit.

The new BTR album is fucking WONDERFUL. But I'm never going to matter to them or be known by them the way I wish I was, like some other American fans.

Bye :)

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87435678753256732 · 1 year

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January 2023

new year new me!! at least that’s what i’m telling myself. i’m writhing on here mostly for my own mental sanity, and because now i don’t have anyone else to talk about it really

i got broken up with. i’m trying to process all my thoughts, gather my emotions, and basically express how i feel. i’m definitely having two reactions, but obv the sad one is overwhelming the other part of me (the sagittarius part i call it) that is a bit relieved. okay. so about two weeks ago i started noticing that he/things were a bit off. i said “okay probably just my mood due to not being on meds anymore.” i didn’t say anything because i wanted to avoid facing reality; things were stale. our last two dates were fine, at least i thought. today two things happened that felt off. one was that he started eating his food before i got mine, and the other was that he didn’t want to go watch puss in boots with me. fine, okay whatever, take me home bc because i have work tomorrow. i wasn’t upset, i understood that we both have work in the morning. we takes me home, parks, and says “i have something to tell you” AWW HELL NAW. thought in my head; this could be 1. scary, telling me he wants to take things the next step or 2. end things. WELPPP it was 2. he stated that he needed a break, reason being he needs to work on himself. i say okay,, and start asking him questions bc i cannot be left contemplating what could’ve ACTUALLY be the reason. states that he has “outgrown” our relationship. BRO we’re both 23 and goofy asf, wym outgrown gtfo. okay, next. states i don’t fit the “ideal partner” he has for himself. says my style, personality, and hair doesn’t correlate with what he’d want in someone. LMFAO. i’ve known my style is funny, i call it emo grandma core- which i’ve made very aware to him in the past that that’s just who i am. okay, whatever. basically grass is greener reasoning. what else is out there? welp, how he can go find out. it sucks being broken up with for the third time. i give shitty men so many excuses and end up being the one hurt. we both agreed that we were glad that this happened now instead of way into the relationship. i know some of the reasons were because of external factors of myself (ex: fashion), but i genuinely believe that this is just a reflection of him. when will you find someone that checks all the boxes? hardly ever. compromise is big, especially when you claim to “love someone.” i basically embarrassed him. this has made me realize that 1. i need to seek someone who loves me regardless of how i look and 2. understands that the “perfect” match isn’t realistic, love is something you work for. i understand that this was his first relationship, and i’m happy to have been his first, and thankful for the fun dates and cool experiences. now it’s time to heal and move on. I did want to talk about the side of me that i like to refer as my sag side, the side that fears commitment and wants to run away. this side is relieved that this is over. mostly because i didn’t really feel that i loved him as much as i tried convincing myself. i enjoyed the sex, that was fun, but i didn’t really feel the love i felt for my previous partners. at moments i questioned whether i even liked men, yet ive never had feelings for women either, so comphet can’t be the answer. now that i’m not in a relationship, my sag side wants to hoe out but i need to be safe about my hoeventures.

i know i need to heal first. these next couple of days will suck. i told him i wouldn’t block him, bc i’m not a petty person and still care about him. we hugged, kissed, he went in for longer which i backed out of. i feel used. used for sex. the way he groped me throughout our date, for him to later tell me he no longer had feelings. i think his excuse was stupid, but i understand that he still needs to grow. i have therapy on thursday, so hopefully i’ll be able to process some of this. i’ve grieved a lot this past year, and it hurts so much to add on to the table. but i’ll be okay, i always have been.

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thechekhov · 3 years

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Why Google Translate should make you crave a grain of that mineral (salt)

Okay, kids, today we’re going to be talking about a really funny phenomenon that is present in MANY languages that cannot be solved by machine translation - and how it will make your L2 dinner conversations 100% funnier.

You see this translation up here? This is Google Translate’s attempt to translate the word ‘spicy’ - a very solid attempt, a good effort.

It is both correct but also kind of hilariously wrong at the same time.

The kanji translation above is correct - spicy is indeed written as 辛い.

But the pronunciation guide is wrong. It should be pronounced ‘karai’.

But the kanji 辛い has... another meaning. And another reading.

It can also be read as ‘tsurai’ is means... painful. Difficult.

And let’s check back which ‘pronunciation’ Google decided to give us......

...uh-oh.

So I’m fully ready to imagine this wonderful scenario between a well-meaning Japanese beginner and some poor grandma:

#japanese #google translate #karai #tsurai #language #linguistics #funnies #comics #chekhov draws #if you cannot understand what the hell this grandma is saying #that is ok #she is speaking a local dialect #日本語 #日本語訳 #言語 #外国語

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borkthemork · 3 years

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The Wu Whereabouts Theory

Now that people are getting hyped for the month countdown toward Amphibia Season Three’s release, I am going to be talking about a theory my friend and I talked about over the past few months, and it’s time to buckle up because we’re going to be tackling this theory from a production, character design, and semantics perspective.

And why these specific factors? Because the theory revolves around these three characters.

And why I believe all of them are related in some way.

Now, you might ask yourself: Bork, how in the hell are these characters related? The old woman character doesn’t seem to have any semblance of features relating to Marcy. What about the dad, are you going to explain the dad? Are you pulling my leg?

And to that, we’re going to have to start small. I’ll first explain why the character on the right seems to be an important character to the story, how all these characters can be connected through deliberate design/semblance, and then I am going to hit it out of the park with the probability from a logical perspective with what the intro and past Marcy interactions seem to give us on why everyone is where they’re currently at.

Especially where Marcy’s father is currently located.

This theory is very, and I mean, very long, so hang on to your seats as we dive into my thoughts about where Season Three might lead us.

And credit goes to @CynDavilaChase on Twitter because she made me realize the probability of this theory in the first place.

And with that, let us begin!

Section One - Who’s This Woman?

With animated introductions, I think one of the big things I noticed with Amphibia Season Three’s intro is that it’s heavily serialized. Compared to Amphibia’s introduction with Seasons One and Two, there are a lot of animated scenes found in the sequence where the story is already being told in a narrative.

You get shots of Anne being introduced to her house, you get new important characters introduced in a lot, there appears to be insight into future events such as Anne getting a moped while being chased by government agents or the massive monkey robot chasing her through the alleyways.

A lot of the intro is prioritized over its serialized format, and that means the characters seen and animated in the foreground have to be important characters or else the studio is basically wasting time focusing on a background character that will never be seen again.

Of course, you get some sliding shots like with the construction workers or the beach scene with the beach-goers but that’s only for a second and they’re not truly the forefront.

But during the shots between 0:29 and 0:49, the sequences we see include a lot of what appears to be important scenes with important characters that will play some role in the story itself.

There are no parts in the sequence where background characters are put in the foreground. Each bit of the animation needs to count, it needs to tell a story of what’s to come and what the audience can anticipate to see.

Now that begs the question:

Why is a supposed random background character in the foreground?

We got some reason as to why the engineer lady looks important since she was in a shot full of important or supporting characters, but why her??

Sure, one could argue this shot could just be indicative of Andrias’s invasion, but there are numerous other ways to show that there’s an invasion without putting too much animation effort on one background character, especially from a composition perspective.

Pardon the messiness, I had to do this quick, but look at how all three ladies are lined up.

The far left grandma, when following from her head to the the front lady’s creates a line that not only creates a sense of direction for our eyes to follow but follows the more significant and foreground character of all three. Look at how the dragonflies occupy most of the top of the frame while the two older women stay in the marketplace’s form, and how this leaves the younger woman to be abruptly placed in the open — creating a visual that this character in particular is more important than the rest in the shot.

Check the way the characters move their eyes when the scene happens too: the background characters quickly look to the right, then the woman out in the open then directs her eyesight to the skyline, where all the dragonflies are flitting by.

Now, I’m not a storyboard artist or composer, I could be wrong on how the crew created this scene all together, but regardless it is still so odd to put emphasis on a background character in the front and then just leave it at that.

She has to be important in some way, and this is where I want to talk about character design.

Section Two - All Related or Am I Just Racist?

When it comes to character design we need to talk about how the character designers make sure to give Anne some form of semblance to her parents, and in this case, she looks a lot like her mother.

They got the bushy hair, the same skin tone, eyebrows, etc. And with her dad you could even see that Anne got her fluffy bangs from him specifically. Only one shared genetic trait, however.

This is deliberate, we know that for sure, and that is why I need to make this very clear as we transition to the similarities found in Marcy and the theorized characters, and why I believe they’re related in design. Mainly because the concept of race and appearance could be quite a debacle and I wanted to make sure that all of you know I am not assuming things out of naivety, and if I am, feel free to get my ass.

Other than that, let’s look at them again.

And here I shall compile the appearance stuff that each character seems to have.

With these three characters they seem to connect to one another with one genetic trait, but if one looks closely, there comes the question of the older lady (who I will just call Marcy’s mom at this point) and why she’s vastly different to Marcy when it comes to skin tone, hair color, and hell — if we look between Marcy and the engineer — why these two characters have vastly different hairstyles compared to the woman.

Even though I could give speculation and some doubt to the engineer and Marcy’s mom being related, and on first glance I couldn’t do the same with Marcy and her mom either, but then I did some digging and realized something. I can connect Marcy and her potential mom in one way — hair design.

Marcy and her mom both share the same poofy hair, it’s just that one is more short and the other is allowed to grow out in a nice little nest.

Don’t believe me?

They got the same floofy bangs with that specific hair line.

And when Marcy was little, Marcy appeared to need a hair tie because her hair was growing out, and it looked like this.

If we consider that what Marcy’s hair tie is holding up might be her bangs — bangs that might cover her eyesight from how floofy it is — then if you removed the hair tie then she and the woman would have a very similar looking design hair-wise.

Even with these hair similarities, however, there is still inquiry as to why Marcy is vastly different compared to her mother when it comes to skin and hair color, and here is where I go into some speculation to piece all of it together:

Marcy actually carries the appearance of her dad more than her mom.

Her dad has olive skin and black, straight hair, while her mother harbors tan skin and floofy, brown hair.

It’s this one piece of speculation that basically slides everything into place, but regardless it’s still speculation and one that I cannot confirm or even argue much about due to the nature of genetics and the limited info we have. But with this piece set in place, we could start to create the argument that maybe, just maybe, these characters are related.

But if they are, why do we only see Marcy’s mom and her supposed sister and not her dad?

Why do we get no indication of Marcy having a sister until Season Three?

How do we put all of this together?

Section Three - Distance and Finance

I rewatched True Colors numerous times when it came to understanding and interpreting what I could with the limited Marcy-centric flashback we had. I even went through episodes such as Maddie and Marcy, New Wartwood, and a lot of other episodes just to fit everything into place. And I think I have a good indication as to why this family is the way that it is.

First off, we’re going to be talking about Marcy’s dad and his new job out of state.

California is a very expensive state. And as someone who lives in California, the housing crisis and the ability to even stay in a house/dorm without sweating over the idea of being bankrupt is a very real thing.

So it is a curious thing that one of the reasons that the Wus had to leave came out to moving out-of-state due to a new job offer, one that infers a lot more money and probably a more stable living environment.

You could even hear the dad saying “Marcy, you have to understand!” when Marcy runs out, meaning that there’s probably a good reason as to why the parents believe that the move is essential, and I am banking on the idea of money for a number of reasons.

One, living in Los Angeles is expensive as hell.

Two, the coping mechanisms Marcy has makes sense if finance is the main comeuppance.

Three, the background art.

And four, why this girl has straight A’s and a PSAT book.

We already covered number one, but let’s take a look at what I mean about coping mechanisms.

Marcy Wu’s many flaws come from what looks to be the fear of being alone, and the fear of being seen as unvaluable and worthless; that if Marcy doesn’t prove herself lovable and essential to the people around her then she gets anxious and will do anything in her powers to make the people around her like her or stay with her.

She will omit information, move along objectives through passive and indirect persuasion, allow people to assert their will over her because they said so and, most importantly, does all of this because she fears the consequences when she gets outed or rocks the boat. Because rocking the boat means people will get mad at her, and she appears to try to avoid that situation of vulnerability like the plague until it all culminated into True Colors.

She is terrified of getting hurt. She is terrified, specifically, of consequences — punishment through stress, frustration, the people she loves looking at her differently because of the mistakes she’s made, etc.

Why do I say this? It’s because if we look into Marcy Wu with her pre-Amphibia self, a lot of these fears could be placed into that middle school scenario very well. Marcy Wu plays videogames and loves fiction because it is a form of escapism or happiness away from stress; she has this intense curiosity to basically anything of interest and uses that to thrive with getting straight A’s and an overall very solid record, but there’s still a probability that high expectations or making the people around her love her comes through said status of being the smart one (after all, she prides on her intellect, and sees it as essential to basically surviving the day to day).

Look at Marcy’s flashback in True Colors. She’s a middle schooler but is studying for the PSAT, which is mainly held in High School, and I’m no expert but I don’t think you read that stuff for fun or at least study it that early.

And I find it interesting that that’s the first shot we get of Marcy before we dive into her parents’ argument — education, studying, the expectation of high scores.

And then when you remember that Marcy is the least athletic of the girls, the thrift shop’s street she retreats to away from her parents is not that faraway from her neighborhood.

And this street, is messy as all hell. And with the revised background art for this area, nothing about the place changes but instead gets emphasized through more shots of how rundown it all looks!

The fact there’s a bail bonds building behind Mar-mar also doesn’t reassure me in the slightest.

So here’s where we are: Studying, getting good grades, a serious financial situation, lives near a rundown section of the city, high expectations, and the evaluation of one’s worth through intellect and academia.

What we are witnessing is a nuanced family situation. If we go by the assumption that the three girls’ lives are not only vastly different in personality but upbringing, then on an income scale, Anne would be middle income, Sasha would be high income, and Marcy is low income.

Her family’s struggling to be stable in a city that they can’t afford to live in, there’s a very high emphasis on good grades and education in the household, and the situation is so bad that her dad would take the proposal of a higher-paying job out of state than finding a similar job out in the city.

However, in this household’s struggle to have a better life, the parents had to focus on their children getting better living than them, and this means Marcy had to live in an environment where the biggest source of reward and praise is through intellect, academics, the approval of the parents.

And I could probably assume that this focus on finance also lead to very rough patches where Marcy was unable to be encouraged over stuff she loves like C&C or videogames, since the level of attention is low compared to the amount of happiness and pride her parents get when she gets an A+.

Especially when we consider that in the dialogue we hear from Mr. and Mrs. Wu, her dad is more assertive while her mom appears to care but doesn’t seem to go against her husband’s tone, so a lot of the probable issues might’ve come from Marcy wanting her dad’s approval and her mother never standing up for her when he became frustrated.

That would make a lot of context with Andrias even worse in retrospect, because that means the moment a male adult figure decided to care about her and give attention to what she loved, then Marcy fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

And could you blame her?

Now, let’s finally get a glimpse on one other character I’ve been neglecting in this essay.

This gal! Because if Marcy and her are somehow related, then we need to question why she was never mentioned or why she wasn’t involved in the conversation between Marcy and her parents.

I’ve done a massive theory post about this already, but the biggest probability comes in the design itself, since if Marcy’s sister went through trade school to be a mechanic/engineer then there’s a high probability she’s in her mid-Twenties. And if we consider that Marcy is 13, then Marcy would’ve been born when her sister was 12 or 13, and ultimately leave the household when she turned 18.

This means Marcy would’ve gone on with less contact from her sister for 6 years, and that’s a lot for a developing child.

It’s not improbable for Marcy to have lost contact with her big sister, or at least had lesser time to meet up with her due to work, college, or her own adult life now that she’s out of the house.

After all, in Maddie and Marcy, I find it very interesting that out of the advice Marcy could’ve given to Maddie about siblings, Marcy tells her that even though Maddie is the older sibling and is allowed to have her own life she suggests that maybe she should make some time for her sisters occasionally. Almost as if this was a ditto moment for her, that she understands but also had a good example of a sister who made time whenever she had the chance.

On more speculation terms, it would be cute to think that the reason Marcy has so much fire and spirit toward her fiction and love for games is because of her sister. After all, Marcy harbors the same interest toward engineering and robotics, it wouldn’t be a stretch in the imagination that perhaps her sister encouraged her to keep on going with what she felt passionate for regardless of their parents’ lack of response, to basically be unapologetic of what she loves, and this mantra kept her going for a lot of her life even when her sis went for trade school.

But let’s go on a side note here. I find it quite interesting that the character design of Marcy’s sis is also very telling, because not only does it tell a supposed story about who she was in the aftermath of graduation, but we could find a way to also put the theme of income and finance into her story as well.

Let’s be real these two are partners in all the way — from mechanics to engineers to straight up girlfriends, these two basically have their own business going on and I find it interesting that none of them just go with robotics or mechanics as a full-time thing, it’s mainly two jobs rolled up into one.

Why is that? There is some speculation that maybe they’re specialists and work in a very science-related area, but it seems highly likely that their main jobs are being car mechanics by day and robotic expert nerds by night. After all, the city can be hecked with money so I wouldn’t be surprised if they did two jobs at once to keep the lights on. I could also see them doing freelancing to repair or experiment with engineering projects since they take more money than actually makes in most cases.

Overall, money plays a big part with the family, and culminates to what I like to call a Massive Shitfest TM when they get alerted over the girls’ disappearances.

Section Four - Massive Shitfest Boogaloo and Where They Are Now~

In the aftermath of their teleport to Amphibia, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Wus had a big argument over Marcy and what should be done in the aftermath. Really, the family still needs to take that job because of finance, people are blaming each other over who pushed her to the brink, and then you have Marcy’s sister — who was probably out of the loop but probably knows how it was in the household — getting added into the mess of what just happened and adding her grief into the mix.

It is a blunder, terrifying and could break apart a family if I’m being honest. but what comes through is this:

People have now become stubborn in the Wu household, and no one is going to back down.

And what I mean is that Mrs. Wu, devastated by what happened ever since the argument in True Colors, will stay in Los Angeles out of grief and a supposed hope that Marcy would return. While Mr. Wu, determined to keep the finance going and keeping everyone stable and safe, abides by Mrs. Wu and decides to go out of state regardless, bringing back a flow of money to keep the Wu household stable through the aftermath.

It would make sense as to why Marcy’s mom is present in the intro but not any suspecting candidates for the dad.

Or how we see that there’s two older ladies with her in the intro. They might actually be close relatives who moved into the household out of the obligation to comfort Mrs. Wu but to also keep her company throughout this dark time in her life.

After all, when one loses a child, a lot of prior relations start to unravel as the status quo changes, and we are definitely going to see Anne confront the Wus and Waybrights when it comes to upbringing and home life.

But really, it is all up in the air. With Season Three around the corner, I am excited to see what the story has in store for us when it comes to the deep-diving into Marcy’s home life. She might’ve had a nuanced family life. She might’ve had abusive parents, perhaps no sister at all but a lot of relatives who grieved for her.

But with this theory out to the public, thank you all for reading along with this massive beast of a post, and I hope we get to see Marcy out of the aloe vera sauce very soon!

#amphibia #marcy wu #amphibia analysis #amphibia season three #amphibia theory #bork speaks #THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG

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elriell · 2 years

Note

in regards to this question https://elriell.tumblr.com/post/666448723258245120/hello-morgan-i-love-your-account-and-its-my

i have an answer. gwynriels like to point out that azriel preferred to go to the hewn city in acowar instead of staying and guarding elain. in this scene cassian and azriel basically roll a dice to decide who goes and who stays with elain because none of them want to stay. gwynriels believe that it is because azriel doesn’t care enough about elain to stay with her. but in truth. if you read out the entire scene. feyre clearly states that the reason they both(az and cas) can’t go to the hewn city, is because they need someone to guard elain from LUCIEN. feyre explicitly mentions that she hopes lucien won’t understand the extra measures they’re taking and that he won’t take offense. if you guys pay attention…. scenes where the IC has to be around elain and lucien (before the hewn city moment) feyre mentions that the mood is painfully awkward. nobody wants to stay and take care of elain, not because they don’t care about her, but because their entire role is to stay alone in the house with elain and lucien and endure the uncomfortable mood that it entails.

furthermore, if azriel (and this is canon) cannot bear to be in a room filled with his family and friends just because elain and lucien are there too (even if ignoring the living hell out of each other and staying as far from each other as they possibly can) how do you guys think he felt at the thought of being alone in the house with those two for hours???????????????? that scene (even though is not explicitly mentioned) infers that azriel is relieved after he wins over cassian about going to the hewn city. NOT because he doesn’t want to stay with elain because he dislikes her…. but because he cannot bear the idea of being elain and lucien’s chaperone. (he can’t stand the smell of their bond ffs)

I got a second ask about this so I am going to join this one with it because they are relevant to each other :o)

Heyy! Thank you, sorry I woke up at 6am and answered that and then a friend suggested it might be ACOWAR and I realised my grandma brain didn't even think about that scene in ACOWAR, as I said I had never seen the idea before.

I pretty much agree with what you said above in general but even if you disregarded the Lucien aspect, I think to say it is relevant to much or where they are today is crazy, they were just getting to know each other at that point, why would he be ride or die-ing it? I think it could be argued whatever he had going on with Mor was also pretty prevalent in ACOWAR.

She was also in 0 danger staying in Velaris, he wasn't putting her at risk in any way.

I think to say he is happy just to be leaving her is the most intellectually dishonest and broad interpretation of a set of dialogue to date. There is no indication to this at all, why are people treating Az like some sort of puppy who was stuck doing something?He literally doesn't act like a push over in any way, he wanted to help Elain, and remarkably every time they go to the gardens, rescue, whatnot it is always him initiating it.

As for the OG question I got asking what I think of the other side talking about this? When you have to grasp at these kind of straws it says a lot about the solidity of Elriel as a whole.

I would love to hear more thoughts if anyone has any because this is...

#elain archeron #elriel #azriel #ACOWAR #ACOTAR #elain x azriel #replies #m for ts

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ahtsumu · 4 years

Text

again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama for beta-ing!

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.

Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.

“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”

(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012

When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.

Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.

The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.

And yet, he looks lost.

“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.

“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.

Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.

Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?

No, ghosts aren’t real.

(If that’s the case, then what is he?)

At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is that all?”

Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.

“That’s all there is.”

A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.

And you’re alone again.

Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.

Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?

Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.

It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.

Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?

Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.

“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”

Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.

Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”

Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?

“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”

You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.

“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”

You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”

“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”

And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.

(She will.)

July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.

Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”

But not like this.

You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.

As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.

(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)

PARIS, FRANCE, 1749

The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s second-floor bedroom.

In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.

At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.

“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”

The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.

(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)

You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.

“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.

“Ah.”

It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.

(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)

Still, you yearn for something more.

Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.

“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.

“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.

“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.

A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.

You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.

“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.

Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.

“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.

You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”

His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.

Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.

Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.

He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.

With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.

In a sense, memory is foresight.

NEO SEOUL, 2144

Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.

But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.

But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.

You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…

“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”

He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.

Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”

As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––

“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.

The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.

But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”

A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.

His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?

Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.

“What––”

“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”

Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.

Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.

And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.

Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.

“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”

“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”

“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.

Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.

“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”

The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.

Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.

Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.

Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.

You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.

You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.

You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.

But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.

He smiles in his last breath.

(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.

The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)

QAASUURI, 3003

As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.

Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.

Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

You do.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.

You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).

You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)

You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.

The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.

“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”

You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”

It’s conviction.

By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.

None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”

A pause.

“Show me.”

With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.

Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.

Love.

(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.

The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018

The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.

It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.

“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.

“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…

You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.

She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.

But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.

Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.

But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”

You choose to cherish the present.

“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”

With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”

Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.

(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.

You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.

“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.

And he can’t be any happier.

You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.

And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again

and again

and again.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagines #ushijima fluff #ushijima angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq!! scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!! imagines

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angelmavmurdock · 3 years

Text

Our Little Secret: Part Seven - A.R.

Word count: 4883 Summary: Arvin has to avenge Lenora but has to see y/n before he leaves.

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem recv), DIRTY TALK (mild), EXHIBITIONISM (kinda? car sex basically). a LOT of emotions.

TW: mentions of guns, the preacher being the horrific person he is

It was a week later and probably the worst week of my life. I was ultimately grounded: not being able to go to cheer practice, not being able to leave the house and of course, not being able to see Arvin. I would still cook and bake for the Russell's but I'd just drop it off at the door or give it to Earskell outside.

Daddy was getting worse and school was getting more stressful due to exams coming up. Ma and I were not talking much. Only statements, really. Nothing more, nothing less.

I missed Arvin. But I was angry at him and confused about the previous week and why he acted like that. He just gave up, just like that. He has always been so protective of me but in that situation he left me with the wolves.

And on top of all of that, I was dealing with grief: an emotion I had never experienced before. Some days I felt numb and all I wanted to do was go to Arvin about it but I couldn't. And I was still dumbfounded at the fact she was pregnant and I had no idea. Lenora had somehow had sex and not told me. Maybe she didn't even know she was pregnant.

I often sat at my desk, pencil twirling in my fingers, thinking and wondering and daydreaming about him; when really I should be studying.

What was he doing? Did he miss me? Was he planning on seeing me again?

I could only wonder what he'd be doing at this moment...

Arvin's POV

I watched from the drivers seat, slumped with my cap low.

Reverend Teagardin had just gotten home from his rendezvous in the woods with the Reaster girl and was now greeting his wife. I saw him begin to take his suit jacket and tie off while gesturing for her to undress, too.

I clenched my jaw watching him. He undressed down to his shirt and socks, sitting proudly and smugly on his armchair like he owned the place. Like he owned her.

She sauntered up to him in her nightdress and dropped to the floor, hands on his thighs. I watched as he pushed her down fully on him.

I felt nauseas. I turned away and opened the window to get some air. I didn't like what I was doing but I had to do it. For Lenora.

After I'd seen enough, I drove home in silence. I didn't listen to the radio anymore. Just didn't feel right without y/n.

Despite the planning, the darkness and the grief going on in my life, the only thing that kept me going was the fact I might see y/n soon. But even then, I don't know if she'd even want to talk to me.

I had to leave to protect her and her parents. I understood them. I was the bad guy and she was the good girl and that's how it always was and always will be. There's no changing that.

When I got to the house, Earskell was sitting on the porch, a cigarette in his mouth

"You're late." He stated as I walked towards him.

"Yeah." I sighed.

I took my hat and jacket off then sat down next to him.

We sat in silence but it was far from that in my head.

I needed to leave tonight. But I had to see y/n. And I had to say some sort of goodbye.

But when I opened my mouth to say something, I closed it again. I wanted so bad to say goodbye but they'd be better off knowing nothing if the law came looking for me.

"Uncle...you have to be good to Grandma,"

I felt my eyes tear up. Thankfully it was dark so he couldn't see.

"She's hardly been out of bed since the funeral and without y/n here, she ain't been doin' good."

"I know." Earskell clenched his jaw.

"Grandma needs you, alright?"

He turned to me and nodded. But he looked longer than usual. It was almost like he knew.

I waited outside until Earskell went to bed. I walked in behind him and stood in the quiet house, my foot tapping the floor in thought.

If I was going to do it, it had to be now.

I collected my thoughts and quietly went into my room, packing a bag of basic clothes. My heart raced as I moved. Was I really doing this?

I stood and rubbed my hands over my face. I was crazy. What was I thinking? I sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, looking up at the art on the wall.

I never liked that drawing. It haunted me. Everything about this house and this town haunted me. Everything except from y/n.

I reached under my bed and pulled out an old wooden box. I sat it on my bed side table and opened it.

My daddy's old gun sat in the middle, accompanied by some bullets.

I gulped, staring at the weapon for a few moments before picking it up and loading it with shaky hands.

I placed it in my bag and left my room. I had every intent just to go. In the dead of night, just leave. But as I passed Grandma's room, I knew I had to write her. So I did. I quickly got out a pen and paper and wrote her a goodbye letter.

Dear Grandma, I'm writing to you because I cannot say goodbye to your face. I love you and I will always remember the things you have done for me. What I'm about to do, I do because I have to, not because I want to. Please do not try and find me. Love your grandson, Arvin.

I rolled it and sat it in a tin can. I quietly opened her bedroom door and tip-toed in, gently placing it on her bedside table. I looked at her for a few moments and then left, heading out her room, down the hall and out the front door. I got into the car, throwing my bag in the back and driving off.

It was 2 o'clock in the morning so I wouldn't expect y/n's parents to be awake. I drove up the drive of her house, nerves and adrenaline rushing through me. I parked before the gate and hopped out. There were no lights on except from one. The front left window on the second story. y/n's room.

I smiled and walked carefully along the gravel, trying not to be too loud. I picked up a few of the small gravel stones in my hand and grinned up at her window.

I aimed and threw a stone. It hit her window perfectly. I smiled, the realisation that I might see her dawning on me. I threw another, and another, and another. I was about to throw yet another until she pulled her window up.

She peeped her head out the window and looked down in shock.

"Arvin, what the hell?!" She whisper-shouted.

"y/n! Come down, please." I dropped the stones, wiping my hands on my jeans.

She looked behind her and I could see her hair pulled back messily. She must have been lying in bed.

"I can't!" She whispered.

"y/n, I really need to see you."

She scoffed, "Maybe you shouldn't have been such an asshole and I might have come down."

I hung my head, "I'm sorry, I really am. I was just trying to protect you-"

"Protect me?!" She hissed.

"Can you just come down and we can talk about this? Please?" I clasped my hands together.

She hesitated, looking at me to her door and then back at me again.

"Wait in the car I'll be there soon." She whispered before shutting the window.

I grinned and silently celebrated, returning back to the car to wait on her. I bit my lip nervously, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

But soon a figure caught my eye. I saw y/n exit her house and close the door carefully. She checked her surroundings before jogging over to the car. She was in a white blouse with a white A-line skirt. Her hair was intricately pleated and tied with a white silk ribbon. She looked ethereal as I opened the door for her and she got in. She didn't wear any makeup so I could see her freckles that peppered across her skin and her natural glow in the moonlight.

"Hi." She gulped nervously.

"Hey...d'you wanna go to the lake?" I asked.

"Sure." She nodded.

I pulled out and drove away and onto the familiar road we took to go to our spot.

"So, y/n I just-"

"I recommend we talk when we get there because if I scream at you and we get into an accident, that's my fault." She stated, not taking her eyes off the road.

I gulped, "Okay."

We drove in silence down the quiet roads. No one was out except from travellers. We finally reached the lake and I parked just beside it.

It looked picturesque; the moonlight shining onto the river making it gleam at the stars and the trees were full and lush.

Reader's POV

We sat in silence for a few moments. It was awkward and tension filled the air. I had snuck out and risked getting grounded again for this.

"Arvin, why am I here?" I finally asked, arms folding in front of my chest.

"Just to see you. I needed to see you." He spoke quietly.

I felt all the emotions come back to me but I didn't have enough energy to shout at him.

"Why did you leave? Why did you do that?" I asked.

He sighed, "I was protecting you."

I rolled my eyes, "Protecting me? Protecting me from what?"

"From your parents kicking you out or for them hating you for the rest of your life because you wasted it on me." He snapped.

"Wasted? You think that if we were together it would waste my life?" I turned to him fully.

He lay his head back, "I'm not like you, y/n. I'm not rich, I don't live in a fancy house, I don't work in some office job. I wouldn't be able to give you what you wanted and that's why your parents don't like me and I understand that."

I spluttered then scoffed at his negative attitude.

"Arvin, you are you and that is all I want." I felt tears spring into my eyes.

He turned his head to look at me.

"I don't need a fancy house or tons of money..." I shook my head and reached over to take his hand.

"But I do need you." I took his hand to my lips and pressed kisses onto his skin.

He watched me and I could see him tear up.

"I can't ruin your life like this." He shook his head.

"You are not ruinin' my life, Arvin. You're doin' everything but that. My life is miserable without you." I smiled slightly.

He moved his hand from mine and traced his calloused hand over my cheek, then pushing some stray hairs behind before cupping my face. His thumb stroked my skin softly as a tear rolled down his face.

"Oh, Arvin," I exhaled in sympathy.

"I'm already causin' trouble. I snuck you out at two o'clock in the mornin' I mean, that's not very responsible is it?"

I chuckled, "We're still teenagers, Arvin. We can still have fun. We don't need to be responsible all the time."

He slightly smiled, looking at my lips then to my eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked in a whisper.

I nodded, "Kiss me, Arvin."

He brought his lips to mine as I rested my hand on top of his. Our lips touched and it was as if nothing had happened and we were back to normal. It was soft and sweet, our lips moving in sync like we had done this a million times before. He slid his tongue into my mouth and I hummed at the taste of him. He moved his hand from my face to my waist and squeezed my skin. I took the initiative and crawled onto his lap.

It was a little awkward with my skirt but a chuckle and a giggle we resumed, lips clashing together in a new passion. Our tongues pushed and swirled in each other's mouths, exploring as much as we could.

His lips travelled to my neck and he sucked and licked over my skin. I moaned, threading my finger through his hair as I leaned back, allowing him more access to my neck. He kept going, kissing the spot on my neck he already knew I liked. I pulled him as close to me as possible and rolled my hips in reaction.

I moaned in pleasure and confusion. Arvin hesitated for a moment but when I experimentally rolled my hips again, he held them tighter and kissed my neck with more fervour.

I picked up a rhythm, grinding my hips down onto Arvin's jeans. The friction between my pants and his jeans sent pleasure coursing through me.

"Does that feel good?" Arvin asked even though he knew my answer.

"Feels so good," I moaned.

He helped my hips move faster on him and we stopped kissing in concentration. I tugged his hair in my fingers, closing my eyes to enjoy the unexpected pleasure. I paused to rip Arvin's jacket from his shoulders and to take his shirt off. He complied, lifting his arms and then shaking his hair back into place once it was off.

"Back seat." I mumbled breathlessly as I kissed his lips.

"You sure?" He asked in the same manner.

"Please." I whimpered.

We pulled away and I got off of him, shedding of my blouse and skirt on the passengers seat before getting into the back seat and lying down. Arvin removed his jeans awkwardly but then climbed on top of me relatively easily.

I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck as he dipped down to meet my lips again. His slid down my sides, cupping and groping my breasts covered by my bra. I gasped, arching up into him. He smirked at my reaction and snaked his hand around my back, unclipping it with ease and then throwing it in the front seat.

He palmed my boob with one hand while the other cupped my face, our lips sloppily kissing one another.

He started to kiss my jaw, my neck and then went further, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down my breasts, my stomach and he stopped at my panties. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and I lifted my hips to help him take them off. He slid them off and discarded them.

I furrowed my brows in confusion when he didn't come back up to face me again. Instead, he lifted my legs and readjusted himself between my legs. I suddenly felt self-conscious as he was face-to-face with my crotch.

"Arvin, what're you-"

"Tell me if you want me to stop, baby." He said lowly before dipping his head between my thighs.

I gasped and gripped his hair instinctively as he licked my skin from my thigh to my core.

"Arvin," I moaned, his breath fanning over my core.

He looked up at me with his dark, lustful eyes as he licked a strip from my entrance to my clit. I bucked my hips onto him in shock and pleasure.

I had never even heard of this. I knew people had sex. But I didn't realise this was a part of it.

"Taste so good, baby." He mumbled.

His tongue flicked upwards on my clit and gained a steady pace. I held his head tightly, my fingers messing up his hair. I had never felt such pleasure before. His hands held my thighs but I noticed when one of them slipped from my skin.

I looked down at him and whimpered at the sight of him between my legs, tongue working against my clit expertly.

"Feels so good- oh my god!"

He slipped a finger into my entrance with ease, curling up to find my spot.

"Shit! Yes!" I arched my back, removing a hand from his hair to grip onto the back of the seat for some stability.

The duo of his tongue and his fingers was nearly too much for me to handle. Nearly. He kept going, never halting and praising me through it.

"Look so amazing, baby. Feel so good. Taste so sweet, darlin'."

"Arvin, I'm so close." I choked, feeling the same knot form in my stomach.

"Go on, baby. Come for me."

I held his hair and pushed him further into me as I felt my high approaching. He groaned as I chased my high, feeling myself clench around his fingers. His tongue never stopped and neither did his fingers as I came. I moaned loudly, my free hand trying to grip onto anything around me. My high washed over me euphorically, his mouth and fingers still riding me through it.

I pushed his head back a little when I became sensitive to his touch and he pulled away and lifted me off my back and swiftly onto his lap. I was still hazy but he kissed me softly, tucking some hair behind my ear.

"You did so good, baby." He uttered against my lips.

"That was...so good." I sighed in satisfaction.

"D'you wanna feel me?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and nodded, "Yes. God, please."

He smirked and lifted me up slightly with one arm as his other pulled his underwear down to his knees and he shrugged them off. I gulped at the sight of him again. He went to touch himself but I beat him to it, wrapping my hand around his member.

His breath hitched in his throat and he rested his hand on my thighs as I pumped my hand up and down, my thumb brushing over his tip each time.

I lifted off him and swiped his tip through my folds and then eased myself onto him. We both moaned as I sank down on him, bottoming out almost immediately because I was so wet.

"So tight, darlin', fuck." He groaned.

I moved up and down on him, picking the speed up relatively quickly.

Soon enough we were both panting, moaning messes. I bounced on him mercilessly, the sound of skin slapping filled the fogged car and I gripped onto his shoulder with one hand and the inside handle on the door with the other. Arvin's hands stayed on my waist, helping me to move up and down on him.

"Fuck, it feels so good. You feel so good, Arv." I moaned.

"So good for me, y/n. So fuckin' good." He leaned forward and encased my lips in a wet kiss before flipping me onto my back.

I gasped and then moaned in upmost pleasure as he pulled out and pushed back into me, his member hitting deep within me.

He dipped his head down to my neck and I clambered at his back, leaving scratch marks over him.

He thrusted into me relentlessly and I wrapped my ankles around him, bringing him as close to me as possible. Suddenly he shifted me down slightly and I moaned as his member continuously brushed against my spot.

"Yes! Right there, fuck!" I moaned, gripping onto him with dear life.

He continued, his grunts and moans filling my ears. I gripped his hair with one hand and his back with the other.

"Fuck, I love you so much." He said into my skin.

My heart fluttered, "I love you too. So much."

"You gonna come for me? Gonna come a second time for me? Good girl."

His words coaxed me into my second high. I arched my back and moaned louder than I should have but it felt too good. I held him as close to me as possible as he thrusted into me, every brush making my orgasm more intense.

"Fuck- baby, I'm gonna come." He groaned.

I released my legs from his waist and he pulled out of me, leaving me feeling empty. I replaced his hand quickly and pumped him on top of my core. He watched with an agape mouth, pleasure consuming him as he finished. He painted all over my lower stomach but I didn't mind. I enjoyed watching him finish. I loved the fact I made him finish.

"Shit," He crashed next to me, panting.

We sat listening to each others breathing before he sat up and grabbed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. I giggled as he brushed it over my skin, cleaning me up softly, mindful of the fact I was still sensitive.

He reached behind the seats and retrieved a blanket we'd often use for cold nights.

"I'll put the radio on." I smiled.

I reached forward and turned on the radio. A song finished and I sat back. Arvin had found a comfortable position in the corner and tapped next to him. I smiled and sat where he gestured, both of us putting our feet up and relaxing into each other.

'I'll Never Smile Again' by Frank Sinatra came on the radio and I nuzzled into Arvin's bare chest.

(PLAY NOW!)

Arvin's POV

"I love this song." She sighed sweetly.

I gulped, knowing that this song would now have a whole new meaning to her after this conversation. In fact, it was pretty fitting.

"y/n, I gotta tell you somethin' that might seem crazy and horrible but..." I spoke nervously and I could already feel the lump beginning to form in my throat.

She squeezed me a little, "What is it?"

I took a few deep breaths, gathering my thoughts and what I was about to tell her.

"I needed to see you tonight because...because I'm leavin'. Tonight."

She paused and then sat up, holding her half of the blanket over her chest.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

I gulped, "I have to do somethin' and I can't be here anymore."

"What d'you have to do, Arvin?" She asked, concern lacing her voice.

I looked into her eyes, "I need to avenge Lenora." I said truthfully.

I think she immediately knew what I meant. She stopped and stared at me with the same blank expression for nearly a whole minute.

"y/n please say somethin'."

"I uh...I don't know who you're gonna hurt. But do you really need to?" She asked.

I nodded, "I have to. I won't be able to rest until I do."

Her chin began to quiver, "But I need you."

She broke into a sob and I brought her close to me, holding her head to my chest and rubbing her back soothingly.

"You will be just fine without me, y/n. I know you will."

"How can I live my life knowin' you might be out there. Or what if you die, Arvin?! What will I do?!" She sat up, facing me, tears staining her once glowing face.

I cupped her face and wiped her tears away, "I love you. And I will always love you, y/n. You need to know that. If I could, I would stay with you."

She cried into my hands and I felt myself begin to break.

"I would stay with you. I'd marry you, I'd have kids with you and get a house with you. I'd spend the rest of my life with you if I could, y/n. But I can't." I felt tears fall down my face.

She shook her reddened face in my palms, "I can't go on without you, Arvin."

"Hey, yes you can." I stated.

"You will be just fine. You're startin' college after the summer and you'll be gettin' a job, a life."

"Without you." She cried.

"I know. I'm so sorry it has to be like this, y/n."

She looked at me, "I'm sorry, too."

I brought her back into me and we sunk into our original position. We were both still crying and we both knew.

"Keep close with Grandma but don't tell her anything about me. I don't want her worryin' and I don't want her knowin' if she doesn't have to." I said, kissing the top of her head.

"Okay." She nodded.

"I don't know where this'll take me. I don't know if I'll get in trouble for it, killed for it, or what. But I can't come back here even if it was to be with you."

"How could we reconnect if you did survive and get through it?"

I sighed, "I have no idea. I could be half-way across the fuckin' country."

She sniffled and wiped her nose, "I can't believe this is happening."

"I know, darlin'. I know." I kissed her head again.

We sat listening to the radio just being with each other for another hour. We fell asleep for an hour after that, wrapped in each other with the blanket draper over us. The sun rising woke us up. We awoke at the same time and readjusted our position to how it was before and watched the sun turn the sky red, pink, purple and orange.

"Ain't this the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" She asked quietly, as if trying not to disturb the sun from continuing its venture into the sky.

I moved her hair away from her face and tilted her chin to look up at me.

"Nothing can or will ever be more beautiful than you, y/n." I said softly.

She smiled and colour rose to her cheeks. I leaned down and kissed her. It was deep and meaningful and timeless. Like the world stopped just for us. It was breathless and beautiful and it made my heart ache knowing I would never have this again.

She was the love of my life.

"I'll need to drive you home before your parents wake up." I sighed, pulling away from her.

She closed her eyes in dread but nodded in agreement.

We got out and peed then changed into our clothes. She took her hair out of the plait so it was wavy. I'd never seen it like that before. She looked beautiful. I leaned against the bonnet of the car with a cigarette in my mouth, watching the lake liven up again and the sun poking through the trees. y/n walked up slowly to me and stood next to me, wrapping her arms around me. We both looked at the scene in front of us and took it in.

"Let's get on the road, alright?" I whispered to her.

"Okay." She gulped.

I disposed my cigarette then we got in the car. I reluctantly drove away and we got back on the road, heading up to her house.

My hand stayed gripped in hers the whole way. I drove as slowly as I could up the drive but we reached the gate and I had to stop.

We turned to each other and crashed our lips together. We were both already crying so the breathlessness and the salty taste on our tongues was mutual. I cupped her cheeks and threaded my hands in her hair, then down her back and her waist to her hips and her ass, squeezing and then coming back up.

We both parted but stayed millimetres away, gasping for air.

"I love you." She said hurriedly.

"I love you too." I said it back.

"Fuck, I don't wanna get out the car." She cursed.

I brought her head to my clavicle, pressing my lips to her head and inhaling her scent.

"I love you." I said again as she pulled away.

She reached for me again, our lips meeting in a rushed, passionate manner.

Her hands moved into my hair to down my chest and then back up to cup my face.

"Fuck, I've gotta go, Arvin." She panted, a tear falling down her cheek.

"I love you." I said.

She hesitantly pulled away, our hands still intertwined.

"Be safe and do what you have to do, alright? I will always love you, Arvin." She said shakily.

"I will always love you, y/n." I stated, my eyes blurring.

She waited and paused and I knew she was about to go.

I leaned in again, kissing her deeply, getting the last taste of her, swirling my tongue hurriedly around hers in an attempt to savour every last moment with her.

We pulled away.

"I love you, Arvin."

"I love you, y/n."

She immediately got out the car. Slamming the door shut to rip the band-aid even more. I watched her as she walked up her driveway and up the steps to her house.

My heart shattered when she got in and shut the door without looking back.

"Fuck."

****

I sat down a few pews back from Reverend Teagardin, resisting the urge to shoot and kill him on the spot.

"Excuse me, Preacher?" I spoke up.

I looked up at him from my cap.

"You got time for a sinner?"

{Tags: @notanordinaryprincess96 @imagine-yourself-happy}

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