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bthump · 6 months

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What are your thoughts or analyses on the phallic imagery in berserk? Less so the more obvious ones like seen in Casca’s nightmares which are obviously pointing to her sexual trauma, but like we see with the vagina-esque monsters and how Guts’ sword is alluded to being like a penis in some cases. Sorry if it’s a weird question lol

Sorry for the wait on this lol, I was on vacation for a while, and it's also a topic I wanted to spend some time on because I love it and I wanted to be relatively thorough. Thanks for the ask!

So yeah, disclaimers out of the way, Freudian analytical theory is very silly, very gender essentialist in ways that can often be transphobic and misogynist, and as far as I'm aware pretty much wholly unrelated to real psychology. Back in the 70s and 80s you had film theorists who took it seriously as a genuine glimpse into the subconsciousness of humanity or whatever, but now it's pretty much just a readily available source of sex and gender related symbolism that's easy to understand.

And in Berserk I do genuinely think it's a valid lens to view the story through because Miura is often quite heavy handed in utilizing it as symbolism. I mean, Guts literally gives someone an orgasm by stabbing her at one point. Some of this can definitely be a stretch, taking established symbols and running with them, but some of it is also almost certainly purposeful. I'll leave it to you to decide what you see as legit and what you see as stretching believability here.

This is very long lol

So yeah, it starts off strong in Berserk with Guts' oversized sword. Swords are dicks, ie sources of masculine power, especially in Berserk

and in the context of the story the dragonslayer is Guts overcompensating imo. And it's not compensating for a small dick lol, which would be more the purview of comedy, but for a loss of masculinity, ie Guts' childhood abuse from Gambino, and rape trauma. It's about his need to prove himself because he was made to feel like he had to, imo.

And it's not just the size of his sword, his obsession with it is also a major factor. He has a grandiose speech about how his sword is like a part of his body (hmm) and that it's been at his side through everything and he's always relied on it. The dream he lands on is to be the best and strongest sword fighter ever. He's currently having a breakdown over not being able to hit someone with his sword. He has a recurring tendency to break other guy's swords lol. At one point Casca screams at him that he essentially cares about his sword more than her. etc etc.

In the story dreams are at odds with emotionally healing human relationships, and dreams are represented by swords (Guts' sword obviously, Casca becoming Griffith's sword, Griffith calling the throne a sword while taunting the king in the dungeon as well as his vision of himself throwing him a sword and pointing to the castle in chapter 72).

So through a Freudian lens, Guts' sword can also be said to represent emotional isolation, positioning masculinity as emotionally isolating. Which, yk, fits with Griffith also equating dreams and masculinity in his Promrose Hall speech (a man must achieve a dream before he can have a family or lover) and, I suppose lol, Casca getting "softer" and more feminine as she falls for Guts, as femininity is therefore the opposite: emotional reliance on and support of others.

So if swords are dicks, then it follows that wounds are vaginas, ie yonic symbols. Also pretty obvious when you read some of the lines during the Guts and Casca sex scene lol. "I too want a wound I can say you gave me." These can represent weakness and victimization (I did warn for misogyny lol) and/or (often sexual) relationships and emotional openness.

So you have the relationships - "licking wounds" with Casca; Guts letting Casca stab him when he thinks about abandoning Griffith; the Beast of Darkness calling Casca the wound Griffith left so Guts can keep feeling the pain Griffith caused; Griffith scratching his own shoulder where Guts' sword pointedly didn't wound him; Griffith being out of reach of Guts' sword post-Eclipse; "let's give him a heap of raw iron;" and Farnese grinding on Guts' sword while possessed and Slan directly treating being stabbed as sexual penetration for the most obvious examples...

Also I'd argue that any time Guts gets his ass kicked in a fight it functions as an echo of his rape trauma symbolically and subconsciously to Guts. Both kinda obviously at times, like eg when Slan overpowers him and tears off his shirt while wounding his chest, and kisses him after the stabbing, causing Guts to feel a burst of fear

or when Rosine stabs Guts through the mouth as another enemy who flirts with Guts mid-fight. And of course the first duel with Griffith in which Guts unilaterally sets the stakes to sex slavery because he's projecting.

But also a little more subtlely, such as when Zodd is given the same position as Nightmare Donovan in Guts' concussion nightmare after he kills Adonis, or all this consistent imagery that rapists and apostles tend to get.

Or, interestingly, the way the Berserk armour functions as self-harm as Guts fights by penetrating Guts to "heal" him.

Something that solidifies its hold over Guts and makes him lose more and more of his positive humanity to his urge to kill.

So yeah, from a Freudian angle I'd suggest that Guts is driven to fight to reclaim the sense of masculine power he was stripped of when he was raped, and every fight can be said to be a repetition of his rape trauma in which he (usually) successfully fights back, but also continuously retraumatizes himself rather than healing.

I'm going to delve a little deeper into how phallic and yonic symbols intersect with the characters' relationships now that we've outlined some of the preliminary symbolism, starting from the Golden Age.

The first duel between Guts and Griffith is rife with Freudian symbolism, very overtly. Griffith stabs Guts and then Guts proceeds to have a nightmare about his rape trauma. Then he projects that trauma onto Griffith when he assumes Griffith wants to fuck him and adds sexual stakes to their duel. Then, yk, he takes Griffith's sword into his mouth lol.

Griffith winning by dislocating Guts' arm can be easily taken as a symbolic unmanning/castration, nicely introducing us into Guts' three years of growth towards prioritizing relationships instead of aimless sword-swinging to prove himself. It's also suggestive of penetration when you're primed to look for sexual symbolism (and if Guts offering Griffith his ass and then biting a sword doesn't prime you for it, what does?):

And the two of them losing their swords in the course of the fight and resorting to unarmed combat can also be taken as a telling symbol of the conflict between dreams and their relationship with each other. They lose the symbols of their dreams and contend only with each other, in a more positive contrast to the second duel that ends their relationship, in which they fight only with swords and never touch each other.

Wounds come into it when Griffith nearly gets killed rushing in against Zodd to save Guts, leading to the most impactful moment of their relationship, where Griffith admits he did it solely for Guts' sake and had no other reason. Griffith also points out how wounded Guts is after that fight, in what I'd call a nearly flirtatious way:

And if you follow these symbols completely strictly this scene suggests Guts retreating into his defensive masculinity in his sword exercises after being defeated/emasculated by Zodd and accused of not valuing his personal relationships by Casca, and finally finding a new, more constructive purpose for his sword after Griffith essentially confesses his devotion to him.

Dedicating his sword to Griffith in return for the wounds Griffith suffered for his sake, with, it has to be noted when the topic is freudian symbolism, his sword held at exactly crotch level.

In the second duel Guts destroys Griffith's sword before leaving, a symbolic castration which is most likely intended to represent and foreshadow Griffith's subsequent loss of power when he throws his life away and ends up tortured in a dungeon for a year. More interestingly imo, is Griffith tracing scratch-markes on his shoulder after sleeping with Charlotte and while crying over Guts - the same shoulder Guts' sword didn't quite hit when he won the duel, drawing attention to the lack of a wound by Guts' hand, a wound he created himself and traces in his devastation.

You have a nice... I don't know what the comic terminology is lol so I'm just going to call it a match-cut here, with Griffith and Casca both getting penetrated by the same number of arrows/skewers, to signify Griffith and the Hawks' fall from power, in contrast to Guts' growing phallic power as he pursues his sword swinging. Power which he demonstrates when he returns and saves the Hawks and Casca and Griffith by swinging his sword a lot and defeating a lot of powerful enemies and, if I'm gonna be crass, healing Casca's suicidal despair with his dick lol.

Interestingly though, before he does that he lets Casca stab him while experiencing the guilt of having driven Griffith into a torture chamber by leaving. It's a wound that highlights his emotional connection to Griffith and vulnerability to those emotions, even as he tries to deny them. He then manages to successfully deny them for a little while longer after having sex with Casca.

In this Freudian context, Guts and Casca's sex scene is an affirmation of a relationship, but one which is emotionally uneven, with Casca ready and willing to emotionally rely on and support Guts, but Guts still dedicated to his sword-swinging dream, inviting Casca with him but only as long as she doesn't get in the way of what he wants to do. This does fit with phallic symbols being associated with emotional distance and yonic symbols being associated with emotional closeness lol. (Also fittingly, the one way he does open up to her is about his rape trauma after a flashback.)

It's worth noting that in this disconnect Casca erroneously assumes Guts fought the hundred men and "bled" for her, making her want "a wound" from him in return. Guts fighting those hundred men is much more reminiscent of his fights against apostles, the fights that revolve around replaying his rape trauma to make himself feel better. Casca assumes they already have an emotional bond due to Guts' wounds, but she's wrong - Guts specifically thinks to himself during the hundred man fight that he's not doing it for Casca.

This is reflected in the Wyald fight when Guts insists on fighting Wyald, again as part of the whole reaffirmation of masculinity thing I outlined at the start of this, when Casca just wants him to run away. The Wyald fight is pretty overt about being about Guts' rape trauma imo, moreso than most fights in the story. Wyald's rapiness is made a point of from Guts' point of view when he sees him wielding the torso of a woman sexually impaled on a pike and gets extra angry, and when he literally cuts off Wyald's dick when he's about to rape Casca, and then has his pointed line about needing to "settle the score with him... with them... by his own sword."

SO ESSENTIALLY to sum up this subsection, I think you can argue that what prevents Guts and Casca from being an equal relationship is Guts stlil being hung up over needing to prove his masculine power through sword-swinging, rather than embracing his emasculation (which, remember, tends to signify positive relationships in this context) and coming to terms with it ("immersing himself in sorrow" as Godo says much later.)

Like, to return to Griffith, it's fitting that after Guts destroys his sword and he goes through a year of torture and is thoroughly emasculated, he's able to recognize his feelings for Guts and understand that Guts is more important to him than the dream, the "sword called the throne."

But he doesn't quite come to terms with his emasculation either. This symbolism is one explanation for the wagon scene where he propositions Casca - a desperate bid for some form of power. Not the strongest explanation imo, but since we're currently in the business of actively looking for this symbolism, it definitely fits. Casca's rejection and pity reinforce Griffith's emasculation, and overhearing her tell Guts to leave again is the final straw. Relationships are a bust, swords are now his only recourse, as we see when he has a vision of himself throwing him a sword and pointing to the castle.

You could take the nightmarish vision he has of a life with Casca as Griffith rejecting emasculation, but an alternate way of taking it is Griffith regaining a form of phallic power, and the emotional isolation that goes with it. After all, it's implied that he has a child with Casca, while totally withdrawn and emotionally isolated.

I once said in a different silly essay that Griffith choosing the dream is, in a way, Griffith choosing another version that nightmare, and that take also fits here.

And hey, it's another reason for Femto to rape Casca lol, if we want to ascribe meaning there, and of course we must in this kind of analysis. In the wagon Griffith essentially offers sex to Casca for the faint vestige of masculine power it could give him (emotional isolation and a child); in his nightmare he imagines that life and it drives him to suicide; and after becoming Femto he forces sex onto Casca and then continues on to embody emotional distance and masculine power.

This power is painfully demonstrated through the rape of Casca, but also subsequently through his pure untouchability (often in pointedly sexualized contexts); through his phony relationship with Charlotte and ascending to the ultimate patriarchal role of king/emperor and taking that sword called the throne; and I guess also through his actual sword lol which he still uses.

An example of sexualized untouchability - check out the positioning of that third thought bubble, in this scene where Griffith lords his invulnerability over Ganishka.

And look at all those pillars, I'm js.

And I'd be remiss not to point out the most recent confrontation with Guts where Guts tries many times to hit his naked body with his giant sword, completely fails, and then Griffith kidnaps Casca. More very on-point emasculation symbolism, it might as well be Guts trying to fuck him but unable to get hard lol. His breakdown afterwards doesn't do much to disabuse you of that notion either.

Anyway, back to post-Eclipse Guts. There's not much else to add that I didn't cover at the start, but in brief:

Guts has lost his arm during the Eclipse, which is an emasculation - he loses it while watching Femto rape ~his woman~ so it's like the most traditional symbolic castration there is lol. And of course he replaces it with a bigger, better, and more overt phallic symbol: a canon. And like the first thing we see him do with it is shove it into the mouth of a monster he's banging and blow her head off. So yk, there's that.

And there's Puck, who exists to help bridge Guts' emotional distance and essentially serves as the feminine counterpart to Guts' masculinity for a while. From his magical empathy, to his tiny size, to his lack of genitalia (note that in Freudian theory the lack of a penis is an indicator of femininity rather than specifically the presence of a vagina), to his connections with female characters Theresia and Jill, even arguably to his introduction where Guts saves him from a bunch of men throwing phallic knives at him by skewering them with his own (bigger) projectiles, this is consistent during the Black Swordsman/Conviction arc era.

Chestnut Puck is a lot more boyish, with his particular humour, his cameraderie with an annoying teenage boy, and now having his own feminine counterpart in Ivalera, but that's fine because his thematic job as a feminine influence on Guts is over after Guts starts collecting more friends.

And as far as the RPG group goes, there are a few notable instances of phallic symbolism for them too. Farnese and Serpico are an obvious example, with Farnese sexualizing the wounds Serpico voluntarily suffers for her, when she demands he duel for her honour a bunch of times.

Farnese brandishing the end of her whip at him doesn't hurt the freudian power dynamic symbolism either lol.

In the Conviction arc Farnese wielded a sword she was incapable of using, suggestive of her true femininity under a brash masculine surface, and when she softens in the Millenium Falcon arc she becomes a caretaker with only a small dagger for self-defense. That said, she does get that epic moment of stabbing a tiger in the eye with a long silver pole (candlestick) when she rejoins Guts' crew rather than becoming a housewife, so she still gets some badass phallic weapon imagery lol.

Serpico wields a thin rapier in the Conviction Arc, which Guts easily grabs in his hand, and in the Millenium Falcon arc he switches to a... limp feather duster lol. Serpico is very feminized compared to Guts and his weapons fit as part of that, but they're still effective weapons. You could maybe argue, within this Freudian lens, that this is indicative of Serpico's healthier relationship with masculinity. He's not compensating for anything, he's at peace with himself.

And god I gotta say something about Guts and Serpico's duels. In the first one you have Serpico delaying Guts while Farnese steals Casca from him, and part of that delay is to force Guts into a fight where he can't wield his sword, a parallel emasculation to Casca being kidnapped.

Then you have their confrontation after Farnese's no good very bad night, which is just incredibly suggestive lol.

You cannot tell me this isn't Guts getting blueballed when Serpico leaves after one quick exchange. Particularly coming in the same chapter featuring possessed Farnese grinding on Guts' sword (which Guts was much less interested in, incidentally). Also: wounds as sexual imagery again. Guts licking the blood off his cheek? Come on.

And finally you have their fight in Farnese's basement, in which Serpico attempts to hinder Guts by surrounding him with giant pillars, which Guts smashes through as he dodges around them. Another neat illustration of Guts' pure phallic power and Serpico's much more effeminate style.

One final note to address part of your ask, which didn't naturally fit into the rest of this lol: I would interpret vaginal imagery in monsters as mainly castration anxiety, yk, vagina dentata vibes, the fear of sticking your dick in a hole you can't see into. There's actually a lot of interesting stuff to consider in terms of the feminine as the unknowable other when it comes to Freudian theory, but that's like, not something I would expect Miura to lean into first of all, and also it would take another essay of explanation. If you're interested in that kind of Freudian analysis though I'd recommend the books Men, Women, and Chainsaws by Carol J. Clover and The Dread of Difference, edited by Barry Keith Grant. I took a course on women and horror films ages ago and read chunks of those, and it was very fun, and iirc both address Freudian imagery in horror.

Okay! So that's the rundown of like, all the examples of Freudian imagery that interest me at least lol. This isn't exhaustive ofc, Berserk is long and not stingy with this stuff, but this response is already so long and meandering lol, so I'm going to wrap it up here.

To sum up, phallic imagery often represents masculine power as well as masculine flaws (like emotional isolation) in Berserk, while yonic/vaginal imagery tends to represent feminine weakness as well as feminine virtues (like emotional connection and vulnerability). As a general rule, the more phallic imagery someone violently swings around, the more fucked up they are. Phallic violence is used to compensate for past trauma, but it only continues the cycle of violence. The way to break that violence is to accept one's wounds and focus on them, to heal, rather than trying to distract from them.

I don't think this is always the best way to interpret Berserk lol, but it adds another dimension that very often complements the surface meaning and thematic resonance of the story, sometimes purposefully, sometimes likely incidental. And either way it's a lot of fun to read into!

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onlyhuis · 3 months

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pro bono

member — lawyer!wonwoo x lawyer!reader genre — smut, fwb to ?? word count — 1.1k synopsis — you and your coworker jeon wonwoo have been working on this case for months. now that it's finally over, he shows you that "for the public good" doesn't mean that he can't be good for you, too. aka: lawyer wonwoo fucking coworker reader after winning a case smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, prone bone (the title is a pun hehe), creampie (shocker i know!), spanking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, mirror sex, coworkers fwb!wonu, gratuitous descriptions of how wide wonu's shoulders are just because i can notes — requested by @junhuisms sorry this took so long bff </3 — lots of love to @onlymingyus for proofreading !! — probably some legal inaccuracies bc i know nothing about the law i'm just here to fuck the hot man so go easy on me pls. i really meant for this to be a longer fic but it's been in my docs for almost a year and i've been trying to not pressure myself to write a certain amount so i hope this is still able to live up to your expectations :) i know i've been pretty mia recently but i'm trying to get back into the swing of things so feedback is super super appreciated! hope you enjoy! note #2 — tumbly still hates me and is super finnicky about putting my posts in the tags so i haven't been able to use my regular divider image bc it bugs out :(( i've tried everything i'm sorry but pls lmk how you like this new one!

you’d been working on this case for months, and it had been one to make or break your career. weeks upon weeks of research, reviewing documents and studying laws to make sure your arguments were seamless.

the upside to all this work, however, was that you got to know your coworker wonwoo better, who you’d been assigned to work on the case with. and by “get to know him,” what you really meant was “get railed every night after work”.

and tonight, after the trial had wrapped up and the court’s final decision had ruled in your favor, you found yourself where you’d grown accustomed to spending all your nights: in his penthouse apartment, and more specifically, in his bed.

the floor-length mirror in his room was one of your favorite things, because no matter what position you were in or how you were angled, you could always see wonwoo. see his broad shoulders, see his muscles flexing, see his abs tensing right before he cums; and god, it drives you crazy.

but it drives him even more crazy as he fucks you into his mattress, watching in the mirror’s reflection how your eyes are squeezed shut and tears stream down your cheeks onto his pillowcase.

it’s one of his favorite positions, as you’ve learned over the past few months, to have you lying flat on your stomach as he fucks you from behind. with your body at this angle, he can get so much deeper into you, you can practically feel it in your stomach, and with only just a handful of thrusts he can make you fall apart on his cock in a matter of seconds.

tonight, however, it’s taken less than that to make you cum. the pride of winning the case has him on a high, and he barely even needed to get you stretched out first. but he did anyway, his face buried between your thighs for what felt like eternity until you were pushing his head away and begging him to stop teasing.

you yelp as he twists his hand in your hair, yanking your neck back so you can see your reflection in the mirror.

your eyelids droop heavily, jaw hanging open as wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror. “you see how well i fuck you, baby?” he groans, squeezing your hip with his other hand. “taking it so fucking well… i’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t i?”

all you can manage is a moan as tears begin to form in your eyes from the pleasure. you whimper quietly, noises muffled by the pillow as you struggle to catch your breath in between thrusts. you can already feel the burn of another orgasm in the pit of your stomach, and wonwoo’s hands pushing down on your lower back are making it impossible to hold back.

“my good girl,” he coos and he lets go of his hand in your hair, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself as your head falls forward and back down onto the pillow. “don’t hold back those pretty sounds. let everybody hear how you like to celebrate your wins. you deserve it, baby.”

“just as much a win for you— as it is for me,” you manage to gasp out. you struggle to keep your eyes open but you force yourself to, determined to see the way his face contorts in the mirror. his eyebrows furrow as he adjusts the angle of his hips, staring down at your ass, back arching into him and forcing his cock deeper with every stroke.

he leans down over you, caging your body with his own, his mouth brushing against the back of your neck. “we both know you did most of the work. and this… this is your reward.”

“wonwoo—” you moan out brokenly as his hands knead your ass roughly, grabbing at your skin and spreading you apart so he can push into you with more force. you clench around him and he curses, his hips starting to stutter.

without warning he pulls out, rolling you over onto your back. you whine at the sudden loss and at the ache in your muscles, but wonwoo just leans forward over your body to kiss you and suddenly you forget everything you were thinking about. you’re so caught up in his mouth on yours and his hands sliding over your body that you barely even notice when he pushes his cock back into you, never breaking away from your lips as he starts out a steady rhythm, gradually building back up to his pace from earlier.

finally he pulls away, sitting up to put his hands on the back of your thighs and push your legs up to your chest. your breath catches in your throat with each thrust, your mind reeling as you concentrate on the feeling of him so deep inside you, pressing against that sweet spot over and over again.

his broad chest is the only thing that fills your vision as you cum, and your brain barely registers the words that leave his mouth in that deep, gravelly voice you’ve become accustomed to hearing nearly every night.

“taking every inch so fucking well,” he grunts, forehead glistening with sweat. “god, you look so good taking my cock.” his movements become more and more desperate as he starts to chase his high, his fingers digging into your skin so roughly to the point that you know you’ll find bruises there in the morning.

still breathing heavily, you whine out his name one last time, sending him over the edge right behind you in a matter of seconds. he lets out a guttural groan, continuing to snap his hips frantically as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

wonwoo chuckles, handing you your purse and helping you shrug your coat on as you attempt to wipe the smudged mascara from your cheeks with your thumbs.

“same time, monday night?” you ask as he walks you down the hall to the elevator, holding the doors open with one hand.

he nods, not even making an attempt to hide the grin on his face. “you keep winning cases like you did today, and you might as well just move in. save you the trouble of calling a taxi every night.”

you laugh, knowing he’s not serious but your heart races at the thought anyway. “you keep fucking me like that, and i might take you up on that offer.”

he hums and raises his eyebrows, but you can tell he’s pleased. “i knew having that mirror installed was a good investment.”

you might not be getting paid for taking on pro bono cases, but just knowing that you’re helping people makes up for it. and of course, the compensation you get from your coworker is more than enough to keep you coming back for more.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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angel-eyes05 · 11 months

Text

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: a fight you've been waiting for arises in front of you, but can you keep your guard up long enough to reunite with your teammates again?

warnings: ANGSTY (the next chapter is smut i promise), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane

word count: 1.8k

notes: ok ok i promise that the next chapter will have smut in it, i just wanted to do some enemies to lovers before we got to that point so thanks for sticking around during the past two chapters i know its not easy lmao. you guys will be rewarded well though, trust trust😌 😌 😌

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Bright ruby liquid dripped from your tricep as Miguel’s claws ripped through the fibers of your suit, slamming you into the cement floor. Any false confidence you went into this battle with quickly disappeared when each futile attempt to get Miguel off his feet failed. You’re not sure how long you’ve been stalling him, but it felt like hours. You were still putting up a fight though, managing to bruise one of his cheekbones that you used to love so much. But compared to the state you were currently in, it didn’t exactly mean much. You were bleeding from all sorts of places. The most noticeable places were where his claws has dug into you, first your thigh, now your tricep. At this point in the fight, you were just focused on defending yourself.

Images of your favorite moments with him flashed inside your eyes in between his strikes at your face. How gently he would hold you, the way he would whisper your name sometimes and moan it others. How nervous he would get if you took longer than usual to come back from a mission. But even with his mask on, you could see it in his face that that was all gone now. Any ounce of love he had for you was whisked away with you when you walked into that elevator away from him. Just like you, feelings of betrayment flooded his brain, making him lose all sense judgment as he sliced his claws across your stomach. He didn’t feel anything for you anymore. Which only made it easier for you to harm him.

He had you pinned to the floor below him, no escape in sight other than you to physically push him off of you, which didn’t seem like very much of an option considering his size and weight. Plus, he had your hand pinned down with his knees. He had taken a break from punching you to catch his breath, heaving hot pants into your face below him. His mask faded off in order to let him breathe better.

Your struggle out had suddenly paused.

Then you saw it. His mask had been hiding it from you before.

His eyes were red. And not his iris’ natural crimson glow. The pure white sclera of his eye had been stained with red. Had he been…crying? You felt your heart drop into your stomach. He had. A lot. You felt so guilty, knowing it was most likely you who caused this. You managed to slip your arm out from under his knee, but instead of using it to pushed him off, you placed it gently on the side of his cheek, brushing your finger over the horrible bruise you put there, blemishing his perfect skin.

His only movements from then on out were slight flinches from when your thumb would press too hard on the bruise. You wanted to badly to leave this all behind. To just go back home with him. To crawl into bed with him and pretend none of this ever happened. You wanted to embrace him again after all this time, you wanted to place your lips onto his again and remind him of your love. Both of you had been so full of hate the past few months. You needed to love again. You wanted to love again.

But you couldn’t. Not right now. And not in good conscious. To let go of this now would be to let go of everything you stood for. You couldn’t go back with him. Not like this. So while it was your heart that screamed out for him, it was your head that acted next as you grabbed his arm with your free hand and ripped his claws through his stomach. As he growled out in pain, he leaned over to his left side more, giving you your way out. You jumped to your feet and raced for the whole in the wall. You made it out, but not before Miguel made his final attempt to grab you.

He fell down in pain before you were in his clutch, but his reach out for you caused four large gashes to form into your back. You yelped out in agony as you felt his claws ripped through the fabrics of your skin. You kept running though, refusing to look back to see if he was following you. You prepped up the portal on your watch, sending out the Earth you were jumping to to the rest of your teammates. You had zero idea where they were or if they were okay, but your one concern right now was getting away from Miguel. Your back shot pain through your entire body with every step you took, but you had to ignore that right now. You had bigger matters at hand. For example, the growing sound of footsteps behind you.

Fuck, he was up again already? This was bad. Your allies were all missing, the portal wasn’t ready yet, and you could feel your consciousness leaving your body as pain overtook your mind. You had to keep running, but each step was sloppier than the last. God fuck, you couldn’t get caught now. He was close you could feel it. You looked at your watch with fuzzy vision, basically praying for it to work at this point. You tried to run faster, but that proved to be a fatal mistake. Panic zoomed through your body as you felt yourself trip over your own feet.

You looked behind your back mid fall to find a demonic sight, Miguel bounding towards you on all fours at full speed, a trail of blood leaking behind him. Just as you thought it was over for you, your savior appeared. A bright neon orange portal. You attempted to get back onto your feet to make it through, nearly scrambling, but it was no use. Every movement was more painful than the last, the lacerations on your back reminding your body of all your other injuries, all of them coming to life suddenly at once. This was it. You lost. Sorry Miles, you thought to yourself, I really did try. But you’re going to have to fight this battle without me.

You weren’t sure if the pain was making you hallucinate, but you could’ve sworn that you saw Hobie jumping into the air behind Miguel, and slamming his guitar into his face. Miguel was knocked off of his fours and onto his back, tumbling away into a building to your right. Your vision was confirmed when you felt Pavitr’s and Gwen’s hands latch onto your arms and drag you into the portal, Peter B. and the rest of the team behind them. The last thing you saw before fully passing out was Miguel’s limp body laying against the brick wall as you floated through the portal into whatever Earth you would crash into next.

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The sky grew a dark gray as your team gathered in a dark alley in whatever Earth you landed in this time. Peter B. had you in his own separate corner, Gwen taking care of Mayday as he stitched up your gashes with some spare thread Margo bought at the drugstore. Your tricep and and thigh were painful, but over faster than expected. Now he was on to your back. And fuck did it suck. Being the deepest of all three attacks, it was still bleeding while Peter was stitching it up, causing the thread to get stuck to your skin at some parts. You bit at your tongue through the pain, while Pavitr asked and answered questions to keep you distracted. “What happened?” he asked first. “Got..ambushed. Fought Miggy- Miguel I mean. Managed to hit him….before he tore my back..o-open. Yo-u guys s-saved me. Now w-we’re…where are we?” you said, gritting through your teeth. “Earth-42,” Margo stated, looking at the slightly orange glow on her wrist. You nodded slightly, but winced once Peter accidentally got the thread stuck on dried blood, and started yanking at it.

“Jesus Peter, have you never done this before?! Mayday could do a better job than this!” you yelled at him. You got a slight giggle out of the baby, as Gwen placed her in your lap to distract you.

“Who are you with right now?” Pavitr asked, pulling your attention away from your wounds again. “Uhh, Pavitr, Mayday, Peter B., Gwen, Hobie, Ham, Noir, Margo, and Peni,” you answered, playing with Mayday’s hands. “How are you feeling?” he asked next. “Other than the growing urge to punch Peter B. in the face-” “I’m doing my best here!” he shouted from behind you, getting a chuckle out of you. “I feel fine.”

You felt everyone’s eyes glue onto you. You stared back confused for a second. “....What, I do.” You were the only one severely injured out of the whole group, the rest of them making it out with scratches at the worst. Meanwhile you were sitting there, blood leaking out of nearly every crevice of your body and bruises quickly forming around your face. They had a right to not believe you. Because they were right. You weren’t okay. You felt a new emotion towards Miguel that you hadn’t felt towards him before. You were terrified of him. Watching him pounce towards you like a coyote hunting its prey. You now understood how all of his enemies felt towards him. Because you were one of them now.

You felt stupid for thinking you could beat him, much more kill him. Stupid for thinking for some reason he would go easy on you. You saw how he acted towards you. He pounded his fists into your body as if you single handedly killed his whole family. He didn’t care for you anymore. But then you remembered. How his eyes were for that split second you saw them. Why was he crying? Was it stress? Was it joy that he was about to finish his mission? Or…was it you? It felt self centered to think that was the reason. That he had been crying over the fact he lost you. You could imagine it now. Miguel sitting lonelily in front of all his monitors and scanners looking for you, ashamed in himself for letting you go as easily as he did. You dragged yourself out of that thought fast, convincing yourself that thats not what you were to him. You were just a pawn in his game. And you were done playing.

Pavitr decided to not push the question anymore and began to talk to you about other stuff until Peter finished up with your back. You stood up, ignoring the ache in your back, to peek out of the alley and into the city. Everyone’s attention turned to Margo’s wrist as it blinked a light orange. When her eyes lit up, you knew it had to be good news.

“Miles.” she said. “He’s here.”

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NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: OK OK NEXT CHAPTER IS THE LAST ONE AND EVERYTHING WILL BE WRAPPING UP THERE I PROMISE (there'll be smut too dw dw🤭🤭🤭). i also have a new idea for a miguel fic so ill be getting started on that after i finish with chapter 4 (it'll be oc x miguel cause i wanna get my character writing out there, but dw you can imagine youre her lmao). so be on the lookout for that whenever it drops, id appreciate the continued support!!!!

taglist: @sunfairyy @ladespedidas @jenniferdixon05207 @chalametet @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @trying-2bcool @deputy-videogamer @chatoicboy @cookielovesbook-akie @impettywhenyouare @unnamedgayperson @sin4tra @twentysomethingwereyote @cherrymanhuas @sagejin @isaidoop @hysteriaabsd @autismsupermusicalassassin @persimmoned-fig @dcsuperheros @amodernarrietty @konniebon @barbi-e7 @venus1224idkpleaze @almondlocust @babybella777 @urmomcomsiimiamour @96jnie @cryptidwlw69 @mirrorball-6 @whosace16 @wolfiepirate @gobblegluckgluckgod @keenzinemugstudent @bitchotine @leopandabearsblog @blumin8 @malynn @mearss @yu-rylee @myhomethesea @ashjbu @skcj24 @joanne-uwu @y2ksitgirl @inosukesweirdwife @a-simp-20 @shibble @euphoricfics @hwanunjin @simp-nerd-16 @chucklefuvk @elwyn7 @thegroupsdeaddog @haileybxxr @ilovemymomscooking @lansy-4 @maxi-ride @d4rno @callsign-blue @obamnas-soda @sophipet @xiangping-28 @steveoscousin @violentlyneon @d1lf-loverrr @shylonelyleaf @babyspice6 @afro-hispwriter @kirke-is-my-name @ilovemiguelohara @lavnderluv @konniebon @msecho19 @kiamewrites

#miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #fanfic #fanfiction #fem!reader #spiderverse 2

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apple-salad · 2 months

Text

Rose Ribbon Embroidery "Mini" Projects (for BABY NYFW) Part 2: Embroidered Bonnet

I decided semi-last minute to attend BABY's fashion show at NYFW!

BABY had mentioned in their NYFW brand description that their newest collection would be a return to their origins, as well as presenting archival items.

You have to dress to impress for NYFW, right? So of course, I had to pull out all the stops and wear my Rose Ribbon Embroidery.

Also at the last minute, I decided to make a few extra complementing items...

A matching RRE kumya JSK, and a bonnet.

What follows is more of a sew-along/journal rather than a tutorial or guide, mainly for my own memory's sake. But if you enjoy looking at my process (sometimes sloppy), I'm happy!

Also feel free to take a look at the more romantic process video I edited.

Part 1: Kumya JSK

Part 2: Bonnet (you are here)

This post will be my process pictures and notes for the bonnet, as well as a matching mask as a bonus.

I don't believe BABY released matching headwear for Rose Ribbon Embroidery, although I've seen an unknown velveteen headbow with rose lace sold with RRE before.

BABY usually coords RRE with the bunny ear bonnet since Ichigo wears it this way in Kamikaze Girls.

I do own this because I wanted to wear an Ichigo-like outfit at some point, but for this occasion I decided to do something different and make a "matching" embroidered bonnet.

I originally wanted to make a hard bonnet with a very defined brim that could show off the embroidery clearly as I don't really like soft bonnets, but when looking at existing BABY bonnets as a reference, it doesn't look like hard bonnets were a thing back in 2004 (and as it is, BABY rarely releases hard bonnets). So to keep with the oldschool theme, the bonnet is a soft one, although I later make some decisions to make it slightly more structured.

The next decision to make was full bonnet vs half bonnet. The bunny ear bonnet is a full bonnet and I think this is technically more "period accurate", but I am not a fan of how they look like a weird hood from the back so I opted for half (plus, that makes construction and patterning easier for me).

I still used my own bunny ear bonnet as a reference for approximate brim dimensions!

The kumya JSK was a little easier to carelessly sketch out and embroider since I was copying 1:1 from an existing design, but I felt I needed to do at least a bit more careful planning for the embroidery on this. I'm quite bad at creating embroidery designs from scratch, but with the mental image of the rose clusters and swags of vine, as well as referencing the embroidery from the film, I came up with this:

I wanted to emulate the embroidery style of the Momoko's (well, in reality likely the embroidery designer Onoe Megumi--unclear if she did the actual embroidery, but it's likely) embroidery, which I figured wouldn't be too difficult if I was also embroidering by hand.

For material, I am using the same velveteen I used for kumya's JSK. Not my first choice and I actually purchased some thicker looking 100% cotton velvet that I thought would be more similar to the original JSK material, but was worried it wouldn't arrive in time and wanted this project out of the way in case things went wrong/took longer than I expected (it did arrive about a week before the event, but it was totally wrong IRL so I'm glad I just went with this acceptable option). I also bought some more torchon lace, so I used that and another lace from my stash.

The colours of the embroidery in the film also seem to be quite different than BABY's dress. I'm not sure if the pink of the roses has faded over the years, but it has a slight salmon tone whereas the film's roses seem to be more of a pale cool/neutral pink (hard to tell with the yellow tint of the entire film) with some variegation. I love the colour scheme of the film's embroidery, but to keep things coordinated I try to opt for the same colours as the actual dress I have.

I only have white silk ribbon in the width I wanted, so I opted to attempt to dye it to match. Previously I have used alcohol markers to colour the embroidery afterwards, but I find the colour hard to control and it tends to bleed into the fabric. I've also tried colouring the ribbon with the marker before embroidering, but without heat setting the colour transfers onto the fabric as well (and it seems like trying to do so with the amount of ribbon I need would be a waste of ink).

I don't have a lot of experience with it, but since the ribbon is silk, acid dyeing seemed like the way to go.

Very interesting photo of ribbon in pot (the pink ribbon gets eaten up by pinwheel roses much faster than I expected so this is the second batch I had to dye--not ideal as they are definitely slightly different in colour but it's not too noticeable). In total, I think I had to dye 3 batches of ribbon and 4 for the pink ribbon as I just barely ran out near the end, and they are all slightly different colours. Thankfully the undertone is the same so it's difficult to tell unless you are really comparing up close.

I thought I would take this opportunity to use the "peach" acid dye that I bought years ago for another project, but this ended up being a mistake as the colour was totally off (maybe the red dye was too expired). I ended up using my regular fiber reactive procion dyes (with heat/acid), because I have many more colours I could mix together, and that was much better. I really should have done this from the start as I wasted perfectly good silk ribbon by making it too dark/off for my purposes (I ended up overdyeing it in pink so it's a usable colour now, but not for this project).

The silk seems to take on dye extremely fast--even just heating up the dyebath will colour it. In some cases I removed the ribbon before adding any acid at all because I felt the ribbon was already getting too dark.

I managed to get a fairly usable mossy green colour for the leaves and vines, however the pink still ended up being a little off/dark compared to whatever BABY used. It's not too bad here as one strand of ribbon, but when many layers are on top of each other in a rose it seems pretty dark. While not ideal, I think it's still okay, especially considering the embroidery colours used in kumya's JSK match nothing else (many pinks will be going on in this coord).

After dyeing and drying, the ribbon is super wrinkled so I ironed it and wound it on some spare card so it's ready to use.

And now I can start the arduous process of embroidery.

Like before, I mainly use a combination of ordinary ribbon stitches, pinwheel roses, and french knot roses. However, this time I try harder to duplicate, or at least evoke the appearance of the embroidery of the film.

It's interesting how plain and somewhat boring the roses look on their own, especially with this monotone colouring. The varied colours of the film's embroidered roses are lovely, but I decided against it here because the BABY dress has monotone ribbon roses.

The roses definitely seem to just be pinwheel style which is very easy and doable, however I am a bit more confused about the leaves. They look like a number of straight stitches in various lengths and directions that fill in a leaf-like shape. I have no idea if this technique has a name and if there is a proper method for it, because I am a silly beginner who is very uneducated in embroidery.

Anyway I do my best and hopefully I got close enough. Ribbon embroidery is really all about the texture, which is really lovely to look at. Except I have trouble looking at my own work for too long because I start nitpicking all the mistakes I made...

Adding the green and leaves really helps the embroidery come to life.

I took even fewer pictures of the embroidery process than kumya's JSK this time because it's not that interesting. I was definitely getting sick of doing the same pinwheel over and over...

I stupidly decided that aside from embroidering the front of the brim, I also wanted a little bit of embroidery on the back of the brim for interest, as well as on the side.

The designs I drafted out for these two pieces is much simpler, but still, more work....

Almost ready for construction! Hopefully a lot faster with the handwork out of the way.

I iron on some interfacing onto the back brim panel and the bonnet band for slight extra stiffness.

The bottom part of the brim is plain cotton sateen because I was worried that the part that touches the head would get dirtier more quickly it if was velveteen.

I wanted some lace gathered around the brim and an extra velveteen ruffle on the back of the band, so I prepare that now. The lace is gathered with a single gathering thread and sewn down before sandwiching between the two brim panels.

Brim sewn and topstitched (and band is ready for attachment).

The upper flowers ended up a little closer to the top of the band then I intended, but I think it's okay.

Gathering brim and attaching it to band. Because the velvet fabric is so thick, the usual "sew one line of stitching with a wide stitch length" not only made the fabric incredibly difficult to gather, but the thin polyester thread also continually broke when trying to do so. Therefore, I opted for an alternative method I think I'd remember seeing in my sewing machine manual of all things--a zigzag carefully stitched over a central gathering thread. This worked much better, although I probably should have used a thicker/extra strong thread as the central gathering thread because it did break the second time I had to gather the brim due to a mistake.

I also add a bit of lace to the inside of the brim. I think this adds some luxury and frilliness between the head and the bonnet's brim, so I wanted to add a small width. I probably could have used even more of the lace's width since it turned out very subtle when worn. But I still think it adds a small amount of interest to the innermost part of the brim and was worth adding.

Unfortunately here after sewing on both brim parts I realize that I gathered both using an incorrectly marked centre line, so I had to rip it out and do it again ;_;

Next, I can carefully align and pin the bottom of the brim to the bonnet and sew it down. I tack this down by hand because I'm not skilled/accurate enough with a sewing machine to topstitch both sides nicely at once (look closely, and my messy stitching is quite visible...)

I also fold in the raw edges and finish the sides of the brim by hand, leaving some openings for ribbon ties.

At this point I spray almost the whole bonnet with water to disperse and fade my markings. Unfortunately, some of the earlier batches of ribbon that I dyed (Can you tell the variance in the 3 dye batches I needed to do?) were probably not washed well after dying and seem to have bled into the fabric from the water...but hopefully it's not too noticeable.

Next I topstitched all around the brim and attached the ribbon ties.

I bought some double sided velvet ribbon in my last minute supplies shipment and made some bows from it. I think the material is a little thick and petersham would have worked alright as well, but the consistent velvet material feels more luxurious, doesn't it? I also think as an added benefit (?) the ribbon being plush and double sided made the bows more puffy looking.

I add some clips to the sides and a toupee clip to the top for security. I opted for a toupee clips because I think it's really the way to go if you don't want the head item to move at all, no matter how thin or slippery your hair.

Finished.

Bonus 1: rose accent pin

I was in a bit of a rush at this point as it was near the end of the week coming up to the show, so I didn't take any photos of the process here but the technique and templates I used were identical to my handmade faux rose rosettes I made for UM (and the bonus corsages). I have a post with all the details of this sitting in my drafts that I will post eventually, and I will update this post when that happens.

The brooch was just meant to add a bit of 3D faux flower accent to the bonnet, bringing in the rose motif even more. Partially inspired by the faux flowers BABY adds to their bonnets sometimes, like on Milk Tea Doll.

The fabric was "custom dyed" with the same fiber reactive dye I used for the silk. The fabric was further starched, cut out by hand, and shaped with flower iron tools before gluing together.

Bonus 2: matching embroidered mask

I wasn't sure about whether or not I wanted to wear a matching mask, but decided to do so for situations when I would want my face at least half-covered in public. I didn't really expect to be visible in fashion show pictures as someone in the back, but just in case. (I think this decision was worth it, although my makeup transferred all over the thing and in most pictures my face was even more unflattering. eh well)

I forgot to take a lot of pictures of my process for this, but it's very uninteresting and not dissimilar from every other mask sewalong from 2020. I draft out a design similar to the bonnet motifs on both of my mask panels (cotton sateen), and embroider.

I should have embroidered closer to the centre of the mask because when worn the embroidery is not very visible/covered by my hair at the sides. What can I do since the panels were already cut though...oh well!

The lining material is some Japanese CLEANSE Ex fabric I had bought previously to make masks during the pandemic. It's supposed to be antibacterial and antiviral, as well as washable, but I have no idea how well supported those claims are.

Sew together normally on both upper and lower sides, turn inside out, add a channel for nose wire and side channels for elastic.

I also have some mask elastic on hand so I use that.

And the finished outfit again with all my items~

Thank you for reading! If you ever feel inspired to take up a similar project, such as the kumya JSK, I'd love to see it!

#lolita fashion #rose ribbon embroidery #ribbon embroidery #handmade #baby the stars shine bright

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minustwofingers · 1 year

Text

exoplanet p.3

pairing: ellie williams x fem! reader (ur a girly girl in this one!!) (she/her pronouns)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: (PLEASE READ!) explicit language, violence, description of a medical procedure sans anesthesia, recreational drug use (idk how else to put it ellie gets absolutely zonked in the beginning), reader overthinks asf and is a little neurotic but that's why we love her x

a/n: hey guys! thank you so much for the wait! it's been genuinely insane how sweet and incredible all of you are. i've never felt so appreciated for my writing!! also, some notes: this chapter is heavily inspired by my last relationship. sorry if it's not as immersive bc of it! and also i don't have ANY medical knowledge so...cast a blind eye when u get to that scene

part 1

part 2

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma

wc: 6.6k

enjoy x

“One more time.”

You gave Ellie a withering look from where you were sitting at the end of her bed.

“Please,” she said, drawing out the s. “Just once more. I promise.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes—a habit of hers that you were quickly picking up—and took in a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Ellie lost it, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. “Another one. Say something else.”

“I don’t understand why you think this is so funny,” you said.

“You say it so weird.”

“I enunciate,” you clarified. “I don’t ‘sound weird’. It’s called pronouncing every letter in the word and not having a lazy mouth.”

“Please,” she gasped. “At least say bitch. You haven’t said that one yet.”

You looked her dead in the eye. “Bitch.”

If you weren’t already certain that Ellie was high out of her mind by the smell of her room and the general haze in the air, the way she howled with laughter and fell back on her bed would’ve made you entirely positive.

This was new. You’d begun to hang out with her in her room after dinner—that was normal—but when she’d knocked on your door smelling heavily of weed once you’d said goodnight to Joel, you were nothing less than shocked. Of course, she had none left for you. Which was probably good, because only a sober mind could navigate a night sitting on Ellie’s bed without doing something really, really stupid.

“I can’t believe you call me weird,” you said, tucking your feet under her and giving her a pointed look.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t grow up where I did,” Ellie said, wiping a tear away from her cheek as she tried (unsuccessfully) to rein in her giggles. “You would’ve been eaten alive, good lord.”

“What were you like as a kid?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

She considered for a moment, growing more somber. “Um…I don’t know if you would’ve liked me very much.”

“What do you mean? Of course I would’ve liked you.”

“No,” she said, swiping at her face so she pushed a strand of hair away. “I don’t think you would have.”

“Why not?”

“I was…” She paused, picking at her cuticles. “Back then I didn’t have anyone. I was an orphan, you know. My parents were never in the picture, so I was the only one I could count on. I was really rough around the edges and could be nasty. But I probably would’ve ignored you like I did everyone else. “

“Everyone? You didn’t have anyone? No friends at all?”

Ellie blinked, and her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “Basically, yeah. I mean, there was one girl, but that’s…I don’t want to talk about that right now, actually.”

“That’s okay,” you said, reaching forward to touch her knee. She flinched at the contact but didn’t brush you away. The image of a young, scared Ellie living somewhere alone made your chest ache. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“What were you like?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting your eyes.

“Hmmm…” Mirth crept into your tone. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Ellie echoed, her eyes cloudy as she thought. Then a small smirk formed on her face. “Oh god, were you one of those spoiled brats? Were you a mean girl?”

“God, no,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Not mean.”

“Then what?”

You paused. “I was really shy, I guess. And quiet, too. I didn’t do much but read for a good 10 years of my life. I used to have awful pronunciation because I would spend more time reading than talking to anyone. But I think I would’ve liked you.”

Ellie shook her head.

“Yes,” you said. “Maybe I would’ve been a little scared of you. I probably would’ve never had the courage to talk to you. But I would’ve liked you, I think.”

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? I was a kid.”

“I was mostly going off of how I felt when I actually first met you,” you said, shrugging.

She gasped theatrically. “You’re scared of me?”

“No!” you said, smacking her knee. “That’s not what I mean. You’re just really intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” She looked at you incredulously.

“You’re so tough,” you explained, feeling heat grow in your cheeks. “You seem just—I don’t know, just so capable. There’s nothing you’re too afraid to face, nothing you’re too afraid to say.”

“That’s not true,” she said lightly.

“Well, of course I’m sure there are things that you’re afraid of,” you amended. “But you hide it so well. You just seem so…fearless.”

“Hm,” Ellie said, letting her head rest against the headboard. “I think you would’ve made me a nervous wreck. If we’d met when we were kids, I mean.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. You’re just so untouched.” She winced. “God, no. That sounds gross. I just mean…I dunno. I wouldn’t have known how to act around you. You haven’t had to harden up like everyone else I know.”

“Are you saying I should develop trust issues or something?” you asked, your voice a teasing lilt.

“You know,” she said, nodding seriously, “That is part of it. It was really off-putting how quickly you trusted me. But I guess that’s just a product of where you grew up.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I wonder how I would’ve turned out if I’d grown up like you.”

“Can I be honest?” Ellie asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t think you’d still be here if you were me,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “No offense. You just have zero survival skills. I swear that shit has to be genetic. I’ve never met someone more averse to violence in my life.”

You sighed, pressed your hands deep into Ellie’s comforter as a thought hit you. “I think if you’d been born in my position, you would’ve been greater than anything either of us could ever dream of. Much greater than me.”

“Definitely not,” said Ellie. “There’s no fucking way I’m studying the way you apparently do. I honestly think I’d take being an orphan over the study schedule I saw in your bag.”

She was of course referencing the time table you’d roughly sketched up the morning before you’d ended up in Jackson. It was blocked to the minute, citing the study content and the location of said study session. She’d been beyond horrified to see it.

You laughed, nudging her socked food with yours.

“Is there music? In Terranova?”

“Oh,” you said, startled at the abrupt change of subject. “Uh, yeah. Of course. I listened to it all the time.”

“I used to have a Walkman,” she said, leaning back as she reminisced. She was lying flat on her back now. “It ended up breaking a while ago, but it was like my child.”

“Have you ever seen a movie before?” you asked, sitting up rigid straight as the thought occurred to you.

“Duh,” she said, giving you a weird look. “Do you think I live under a rock?”

“How many?”

“Hm.” Ellie began counting, ending on her second hand. “I think 6?”

“You’ve seen a total of 6 movies in your life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to see more?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s just tough to find CDs that are still functional after so long.”

“Hold that thought,” you said, holding a finger in her direction as you stood up.

“Hey!” she called as you bolted out the door. “Where are you going?”

You came bounding back to her room in a matter of seconds, your laptop in your hands.

“What the fuck?” she said. “Isn’t that your homework thing?”

“Yes,” you said, feeling around for an outlet, “But I also have a ridiculous amount of movies downloaded on this. Our dorm wi-fi is shit and I have way too much storage on this thing, so I just download, like, every movie I’ve ever wanted to watch.”

“Your dorm what?”

You waved your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was explain to her how the 802.11 standard allowed wireless connections a few years after the outbreak. “Not important. Here, come look at this.”

Your laptop roared to light with the help of your charging cord. Quickly, you typed your password in and opened your downloads. Ellie hovered over your shoulder, squinting at the screen with confusion.

“Here,” you said, opening up the album that had everything you had seen for your entire university career and passing the laptop to Ellie. “Use the touchpad—there, yeah—to navigate. Press to click. These are all movie files that I’ve seen. We can watch them on my laptop. Some of them were filmed in Terranova, too, so they’re post-apocalypse.”

She perused the selection you had for quite some time, the glow of the screen lighting up her face against the dim room. “Okay. This one.”

And thus began a tradition. Each night after you’d finished showering and Joel retired to his room, Ellie would come knock on your door and ask if you wanted to come over. You’d talk for a while, then open your laptop and pick something out to watch. Ellie was never high after the first time, which was unsurprising considering that there definitely wasn’t a way to get any in Jackson. Where she found any the first time was still a mystery to you.

A week or so after your first patrol with Ellie, Joel had taken it upon himself to teach you how to shoot. You were surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected, but the rebound was tough to get used to, and you were still hung up over the whole “killing living things” part.

Your first patrol—first real one—came quickly, and before you knew it, Ellie was handing you the same gun you’d dropped the first time with a suspicious look.

“Don’t kill one of us with that thing,” she warned. “Be smart, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss,” you said to her, mock saluting as best you could while you were leading Japan to the mounting block.

She rolled her eyes. “Please act normal or I’ll make you carry around that glorified pocket knife instead again.”

The patrol began as usual, Ellie leading you down the same path you went last time. It was a beautiful day out, with the early spring sun filtering through the evergreen trees that populated the woods and birdsong filling the air.

Though conversations with Ellie were getting easier (given that it actually seemed like she wanted to talk to you now), you were still starstruck. Nothing that you did and nothing that you thought could get you to stop seeing her the way you did. You were routinely distracted by everything about her. It was a wonder that you could even function as a normal person around her, much less handle a weapon and a horse.

You two had nearly made the full rotation when your surroundings exploded in action.

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed as someone behind you two fired a shot that narrowly missed Shimmer.

You whipped around, gun in hand, to see two men—two normal men who weren’t infected. One held a bow, the other a gun.

The one who had fired the first shot never even stood a chance. He was down on the ground seconds after you’d seen him, Ellie’s aim taking him out before you could even ready your gun.

The second man notched an arrow and managed to draw it back and release into the air right as Ellie’s bullet struck him, sending him falling back.

“I don’t think there’s any more,” said Ellie, slightly breathless as she scanned the forest. “Sometimes outsiders pull this shit—try to kill us for our supplies. I’ve never seen them this close to the wall, though. I’ll have to tell Maria and Tommy.”

Normally, you would’ve felt up to making some sort of sarcastic comment about how that was a really unconcerning thing for her to tell you and that you actually felt so much more comfortable going on patrol knowing that there were also just run-of-the-mill people trying to kill you, but a twinge in your lower body distracted you.

Slowly, nervously, you looked down. Air immediately left your lungs.

“At least we’re done,” Ellie was saying, wiping her hands off on her thighs and slinging the gun over her shoulder. “What a crazy end for your first actual patrol, huh?”

When you didn’t answer, she turned to you and saw the arrow sticking out of your side,

“Shit,” said Ellie, jumping off Shimmer and reaching you in seconds. “Shit, shit, shit. Oh god.”

“Am I going to die?” you asked, staring starstruck at the blood escaping the outline of the arrowhead. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. Were you in shock?

“No,” said Ellie firmly. “Absolutely not. Do you need help getting off?”

Before you could answer, she was already helping you down, carefully avoiding the protruding arrow.

“Listen,” she said, back to being her unwavering self, “We’re right by the wall. I’m going to help you walk in, and then I’ll grab some supplies, okay? Don’t try to pull the arrow out. You hear me? Don’t.”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. She helped you walk the few steps to be carefully concealed by the wall, then grabbed the two horses and darted past you, making a break for Maria and Tommy’s cabin.

In a haze of confusion, you could see Maria running out, holding a box out to Ellie in exchange for the reins of the horses. Ellie said something that made Maria point towards you. She nodded, then ran back to you.

By the time that she’d reached you, the shock had begun to wear off, replaced by the stinging pain from the object that had impaled you. It was worse than anything you’d ever felt before in your life, and it took all you had not to keel over.

“Hey,” she said, reaching out to grab your face so you had to look at her. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve done this before, okay? I’m, like, the master. It’s going to be alright.”

“Done what before?” you managed to grind out.

Ellie let go of your face to dig through the box Maria had given her, producing a needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and what looked like a spool of thin thread.

Horror slowly trickled through you as you realized what was about to happen.

“It doesn’t look all that deep,” Ellie was saying as she examined the arrow. “So I don’t think it’s hit anything. It’s just going to be a nasty hole. I’m going to pull it out now, okay?”

You let out a strangled scream as she grasped the arrow’s end and yanked it out without warning.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Ellie repeated. She threw the arrow over her shoulder and knelt so she was hovering over you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gasped. You were most certainly not. You couldn’t quite get your eyes to focus, and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Alright,” she said firmly, grasping your shoulders and pulling you up so you were slumped against the wall. “Sit up straight, alright? Also, this is going to hurt.”

At first there were just snipping sounds as she cut part of your shirt away—then something cool and wet pressed to your wound. You cried out again as a fresh white hot pain bloomed in your middle.

“I know, I know.” Ellie’s voice was consoling as she reached up to brush away the sweaty strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “Just a few more seconds.”

“Fuck—off—” you gritted out from your teeth.

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Just this once.”

She released the alcohol-saturated cotton pad, throwing it aside and fussing with the thread and needle until she was satisfied.

By the time her fingers were ghosting over your abdomen again, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the puncture wound and the needle she was wielding.

“Don’t look,” said Ellie. “Pick something else. You don’t need to watch.”

“I hate needles,” you whispered, choosing the air over her shoulder to be your focal point.

There was a prodding at the top of your wound, and you hissed.

“I can’t say I’m a fan myself.”

Something pierced through your skin, and your midriff exploded in pain.

The edges of your sight went fuzzy, stars forming in the corners of your vision. Someone that sounded suspiciously like you cried out. Your cheek rammed up against something solid and warm.

Once the initial sting had faded, you realized that you’d slumped into Ellie, your face buried into her neck. She didn’t make any move to push you off, instead just taking one hand to brush up and down your arm with a feather light touch.

“You're fine," she said firmly. "Everything's going to be fine."

Your fingers curled around the hem of her shirt as the needle exited through the other end of your wound, pulling another whine from your throat. It was easier to not feel like you were about to pass out when you were crushed into Ellie, clinging onto her and just focusing on the way she felt against you.

“Hang on, I'm almost there,” she muttered a few stitches later. You’d quieted down, only letting out the occasional gasp as she pulled the thread through. “You're doing so well. Just one more.”

Now that you were more conscious, you had no idea how she was managing to stitch your side while you were nearly on her lap, but she continued to weave her needle through your skin, pulling it taut.

“And done,” said Ellie. You felt her take another cotton square to swipe against your skin.

You laid against her for a few more moments, panting as the shock slowly began to fade. She shifted, and for a moment you were sure that she was going to shove you away, but then the hand she’d lifted hesitantly rested on your head, her fingers parting to card through your hair.

“How did you learn how to do that?” you asked, your voice muffled from where you were pressed against her.

“Trial and error.”

Her joke was enough for you to finally let go, sitting back against the wall. Her hand slithered out of your hair, resting back in her lap.

“Shut up,” you said. “That’s awful.”

Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling the bumpiness of the stony wall press into your back. “I have a really low pain tolerance.”

“So I’ve noticed,” said Ellie, the side of her mouth quirking.

“I’ve never been hurt before,” you heard yourself saying. “Like, beyond the occasional splinter or bee sting or accidental scrape or ankle sprain. It’s just not something that happens.”

“Must be nice.”

You smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s not nice being weak, though.”

Ellie looked away from you then, silent as she packed up the first-aid kit. Then: “I don’t think that’s true.”

She’d said it lightly, like it was meant to be an offhand comment, a throwaway addition that wouldn’t be remembered by either of you. But the sentiment still struck you, twisting your heart.

You were less capable because your survival had never required anything more. You were weak because you could be.

Her voice from the night she’d been high floated back to you. You haven't had to harden up like everyone else I know.

Out here, weakness was a luxury few could afford.

“Not so untouched anymore, huh?” you said, since you didn’t know how else to respond.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” quipped Ellie. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. I still consider needing to be held to get 4 stitches as being soft. You haven’t changed a bit. No offense.”

Your cheeks burned bright red. “I—”

“I’m teasing,” she said before you could defend yourself. “Arrow wounds suck. I get it.”

“Right.” You turned away, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the ground beside you. With feeling more yourself came the inevitable shame at what you’d just done. What had you been thinking, touching her like that? Grabbing onto her like that?

This was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Don’t make that face,” said Ellie. “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It really is fine.”

It was not fine. It would never be fine. You wanted the thugs to come back to life and finish you off, and then have the earth open up and swallow you for good measure.

Ellie probably thought of you as an overgrown child. You doubted that there was ever a point where she could see you as anything equal. If she ever knew how often she appeared in your imagination, she’d probably be disgusted.

She called you pretty a contrarian voice in your head reminded you. Don't you remember?

But maybe she hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t said it explicitly: “Y/N, I think you’re pretty.” She just hadn’t argued when you’d pointed it out. Maybe because she was being nice, or maybe because she was actually being sarcastic.

“You were really brave, okay?” said Ellie. “Your first armed confrontation and you did well.”

“I didn’t shoot anyone.”

“It could have gone worse,” said Ellie. “You could’ve accidentally shot me. Or died. And neither of those things happened, so that’s successful in my book.”

“That’s very glass half-full of you.”

“That’s me. Ever the optimist.”

You snorted.

That night, Ellie knocked on your door and asked you if you were up for another movie. You found yourself sitting on her comforter, plugging in your computer and booting it up minutes later.

Physically speaking, it had always been a little awkward to fit two people on her twin bed if they weren’t right next to each other, given that your laptop screen was a very unimpressive size. When you’d first started watching with her, Ellie would rest against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of you while you would sit with your legs crossed, positioned sideways so you weren’t accidentally pushing her legs off.

But after the day you had had, your back was sore and your whole body ached. Sitting on something soft without any back support as you angled yourself to look at the screen was quickly proving unsustainable.

“Pause,” said Ellie about ten minutes in. You’d been watching an older sci-fi flick—Ellie’s choice.

You complied, leaning forward and pressing the spacebar. “What’s up?”

“Are you even comfortable sitting like that?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Liar,” accused Ellie, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t think I don’t see you ‘discreetly’ cracking your back every 2 minutes. It’s ruining the movie.”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head and smiling in exasperation. “It’s from all the years I spent hunched over a textbook.”

“You know, you can sit up here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “I don’t bite.”

“Jury’s still out on that,” you said, though by the time Ellie let out a laugh you were already unfolding your legs and moving so you were next to her.

She leaned forward, grabbing the bottom half of the laptop and lifting it. “Hey, do you want a blanket?”

“Sure.”

Ellie’s other hand grabbed the edge of her comforter and held it up.

Hesitantly, you slid your legs under and watched as Ellie did the same, awkwardly holding the laptop in the air before you were both settled enough to rest it on your covered right thigh and her left. “Better?”

When you nodded, she reached her tattooed arm out and pressed play. The audio picked back up, but you couldn’t for the life of you focus on the movie.

When Ellie had asked if you’d wanted a blanket, you were expecting her to toss the throw blanket that would really only fit one person at you, not invite you to get under the blankets with her. That was significantly more intimate.

You two were sitting close enough that your sides were touching, from shoulder to thigh. You could feel her chest lift with each breath, feel the heat coming off of her.

After a while, Ellie properly laid down, taking the laptop and hoisting it up so it rested on her lower abdomen as she settled into her pillow.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between her face and the screen. Ellie’s gaze was fixed intently on the screen, her eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

You could be tired too. You weren’t, of course—your heart was racing a thousand miles an hour. But she didn’t know that. It was normal to lay down next to her, right? You’d done that with Irena more times than you could count, and it was never weird. Yeah, you could do that.

Also, if you were totally horizontal, you would stop getting distracted by the sliver of her skin that her crooked shirt showed of her chest.

In a moment of blind courage, you scooted down so your head was lying right next to Ellie’s. She didn’t seem to react, just extending her hand from under the covers to steady the laptop as it wobbled from the movement.

Her sheets smelled like the soap that you used to wash your hair—a cottony freshness that had the slightest hint of lavender.

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” asked Ellie after a while, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, equally quiet. Then, because you hadn’t made enough rash decisions for the night, you angled your head so it rested in the space right above her shoulder.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t move. On her next exhale a piece of her auburn hair tickled your forehead.

“How’re your stitches?” she asked suddenly, like she'd just remembered.

“They’re okay. I think. As stitches go.”

“After this is over, I’ll check on them,” she said. “Don’t let me forget, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy. It was one thing for her to cut off your shirt and see your skin when she was trying to save your life while you were mentally gone. It was another thing altogether to pull up your shirt without adrenaline coursing through you.

You didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the movie, instead hyperfocused on the rhythm of Ellie’s breathing and the fact that if you moved just a little your chin would be on her shoulder.

Her mention of the stitches wasn’t helping at all, either. Now all you could think about was the embarrassing way you’d basically tried to crawl under her skin, burying your face into her and clutching at her clothes like you were a child.

A part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t been more lucid at the time. If you had, you would’ve been able to clearly remember the softness of her skin against yours. You would’ve been able to enjoy it for what it was—the only time you’d be able to touch her like that.

Because you couldn’t go around just grabbing onto her shirt and getting into her lap. That was a one-off, the only time that the rules were waived. You couldn’t touch her like that now, now that you didn’t have any excuse. It wasn’t allowed.

But sometimes you wanted to so badly that it hurt.

The movie ended abruptly, wrenching you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie. “Sit up so I can see.”

Reluctantly, you pressed yourself up from your back and began rolling up the hem of your shirt. Ellie twisted to face backwards, her thin top riding up and showing part of her back as she reached for the lamp.

Once golden light returned to the room, Ellie turned back and bumped your hands away. She bent over, tilting her head so that she was looking at the stitches straight on.

They didn’t look bad, you had to admit. Though you wouldn’t consider the actual experience of getting the stitches a 5-star experience, Ellie had clearly known what she was doing. The surrounding flesh didn’t look angry or irritated, and she’d pulled the stitches just tight enough without it puckering.

She prodded at the side, then gave a satisfied nod. “Looks good. What did I tell you? I’m really good at this sort of stuff.”

“I think you would’ve made a really good doctor,” you said once she’d sat up straight again. “Under different circumstances.”

“Is this you telling me that you don’t think I’m a good doctor now?” she teased.

“Your bedside manner could use some work,” you offered.

Ellie laughed then, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, yeah. You lived. You'll get over it.”

“Did you go to school?” you found yourself asking, hung up on the thought of Ellie as a potential medical student. If she’d been in one of your intro biology classes, you never would’ve been able to pay attention. That was a fantasy you could shelve away for later.

“Sort of,” said Ellie, looking down at her arms. “I went to a military prep school run by FEDRA. I didn’t graduate though—obviously. I was long gone by then.”

“Right,” you said, remembering that she’d mentioned that she’d been 14 when she’d left Boston. “And what was it like?”

She paused, opening her mouth before closing it. “It was—unkind. Joel's told me about schools before the outbreak. It was nothing like that. There were some normal classes, but most of it was meant to prepare us to be soldiers.”

“Is that where you learned how to do sutures?”

“Among other things.”

Terranova had no military academies, given that there was hardly any military presence. The founder of Terranova had bodyguards and there was a police force that controlled the borders, but it was nothing like Ellie described. With invisible borders and a social order that valued peace and tranquility over all else, there was no real danger posed to any of the citizens.

But from what you had learned from movies and books and comments from older people, you had gathered a very dim picture of what a military academy looked like—harsh, strict, and cruel.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” you said.

“It’s okay.”

“Is there anything you would want to study? If you could?”

Ellie’s eyes closed. “Yeah. There are a couple things.”

She did not elaborate.

It didn’t take long for you two to settle back into your routine of meeting in her room each evening and watching one of your downloaded movies. Following the night after you’d gotten your stitches, you wouldn’t even have to ask—Ellie would pull up her comforter and let you slide in next to her without giving you a second glance.

You’d also gotten over the fear of touching her. Now, when you flopped back so your head was on her pillow, you’d adjust until you were nestled into the crook of her neck. She never once reacted to it, remaining perfectly still unless she was adjusting the laptop or messing with the sound.

Because it was normal, of course. You and Irena would rest your head on each other’s shoulders sometimes. That was something that friends did.

One night a week or so into April, you and Ellie made a harrowing discovery: there was only one movie left in your collection that you two hadn’t seen together.

“Damn,” said Ellie, furrowing her brow. “And there’s no way to get more on here?”

“I’m afraid not,” you said, frowning. “To download more or stream one, I’d need either an Ethernet cable or a wi-fi connection. Neither of which function out here anymore without cell towers and maintained cables.”

“Right,” said Ellie, though her face told you that she didn’t understand a word that had come out of your mouth. “So—this is it?”

“Yeah.” Your finger hovered over the play button. “Savor it, I guess.”

When you settled back and into her side, the heavy weight of dread settled into your stomach. Now that you’d finished showing her your entire collection, it’s not like she’d have a reason to invite you over every night. And there was especially no reason for you two to lie so closely together unless you were both trying to watch something on a small screen.

Once again, your excuse to touch her was gone.

You pressed closer to her as your mind raced. There was no way that Ellie didn’t see what you were doing as platonic, right? Was it possible that she was creeped out by how touchy you were but just tolerated it to be nice?

Maybe. You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. Ellie didn’t see you like…like that. She spoke to you like you were an obligation, a burden. Because you always had been. You’d been a responsibility thrust on her by a father figure who felt like he was indebted to you from that stupid bag of coffee you were lucky enough to bring.

Oh, god. Had Joel told her to befriend you? Had he asked for Ellie to pretend like she enjoyed spending time with you and to put up with your privileged, soft-hearted nonsense?

The knowledge that you were spiraling wasn’t enough to stop you. You did the best that you could—tried to remind yourself that it’d been a while since she’d looked disgusted with you, recall that she was outspoken enough to tell you to fuck off if you did something she didn’t like—but it was to no avail.

Ellie reached forward and hit pause on the movie, thrusting you both into silence.

“Is everything okay?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can feel your heart going, like, crazy fast.”

You froze. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I was just thinking.”

Ellie pushed the laptop off of her, sitting up to give you an odd look. “About a near death experience or something? You running a marathon up there? That shit’s not normal.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just an, uh, suspenseful movie.”

Which was actually really stupid of you to say, because you were watching some obscure Tarkovsky film that did nothing but pan over burning buildings and pensive men. For the past 5 minutes, there had been nothing on screen but the back of a car driving through traffic with minimal sound. Also, it was in Russian, and the English subtitles made zero sense.

There was a reason why this was the last movie you chose.

“This is the most boring fucking movie I’ve ever watched in my life, so you’re a dirty fucking liar,” said Ellie. Then her face pinched in worry. “Wait. Have you taken a look at your stitches lately?”

Before you could answer, she was grabbing a flashlight off her nightstand and yanking the comforter off you. She was pulling your shirt up when you finally found your voice.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and yanking it back in place. “It’s not—I don’t have an infection, okay? There’s nothing wrong with me. I really was just thinking, okay?”

“About what?” She reached back to place her flashlight back on the stand without taking her eyes off you.

“It’s nothing important.”

“If you say so.”

She picked the laptop up and placed it back on her thighs, lying back down. You followed suit, but this time you didn’t touch her, opting to keep as much distance as you could so she wouldn’t hear the stuttering of your heart.

Not even 5 minutes had passed before Ellie sat up to pause the video again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“You’re acting weird,” she accused, but there wasn’t much conviction behind her voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re acting weird,” she repeated, shutting your laptop off and moving it to the bottom of her bed, despite the protests that left your lips.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “I’m just watching the movie. I’m not doing anything. “

“You’re not watching the movie,” she said. “You weren’t even looking at the screen. What’s got you so bothered? Did I do something?”

“Of course not.” You pulled your legs under you so your legs were crossed and your back was against the wall. “You don’t need to worry. It’s honestly fine. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to imply otherwise.”

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “You stress me out. You can just tell me, you know? No need to be so cagey. I promise I’ve heard worse.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that.”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” she said. “I’m never going to know peace again with a hook like that.”

You were about to open your mouth to tell her that it was stupid and that it didn’t matter, but something stopped you.

That was the coward’s way out. That’s what you’d always done—hid your feelings and concealed your emotions. That’s how you’d been raised. That’s how you thought everyone was. But now that you’d spent 2 months in Jackson, you’d realized that some people actually just said what they thought. And that, in the grand scheme of things, it was a better system than the Terranovian culture of superficiality.

Just because the you 2 months ago would have shook her head and changed the subject didn’t mean the you now had to.

Maybe this you could be different. Maybe, for once, this you could be brave.

“I really—” You stopped yourself. Saying I really like you didn’t even begin to encompass what you felt for the girl sitting across from you. To distill the sheer magnitude of your feelings down to four words felt criminal. The swell in your chest that never went away whenever you were near her could never and would never be adequately represented in the puny offerings of the Latin alphabet and the English language, and if you were going to do this, you were going to do it right.

You dared to look up at her for a moment. She was completely still, her green eyes reflecting the dim moonlight from outside. Once you met her gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull it away.

“I’m really sorry that I’m putting you in an uncomfortable position for saying this,” you began (because old habits ran deep, and you would rather die than be impolite), “And I totally understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“As much as I’m sure that this is some sort of cultural cornerstone for you, please spare me the 6 foot long disclaimer script,” Ellie drawled.

“Right.” You gulped. “Anyway. As I was saying.”

“Any day now.”

At that moment, she had never looked more perfect. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark lighting, so the weak moonlight that spilled in from the window above her created a halo around her head.

“It’s you.” Your voice came out tiny. “You’re all that I can think about, and I don’t know what to do.”

There. It was off your chest.

For a moment, it was as if you’d suspended time, stopping Earth on its axis as you both held your breaths. There was nothing but silence and the occasional wooden creak of the old house’s foundation in the wind.

Ellie’s face betrayed nothing, save for something in her eyes and the disappearance of the smirk that had been on her lips moments before.

Then she spoke, her response whispered.

“Come here, then.”

final a/n: NOW HOLD ON before you show up outside my dorm with pitchforks and torches 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i'm so sorry but this was a necessary evil as this was going to a massive scene without the chapter break. also a disproportionately massive chapter compared to the other ones coming out. i write very quickly and should get the following part out in a timeframe similar to the first 3 parts. thank u for reading ! tell me what you think abt this chapter while you wait x

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

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daddy-dins-girl · 3 months

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Talk Me Down

A fic requested by @anotherpedrolover

I was gonna wait until Frankie Friday (tomorrow) to post this, but this sweet human being has already waited like 2 months for me to finish this, lol, so here you go! I was asked to write a fic about insecure!Frankie who has some self-esteem/body image issues but after being with Reader (who is very appreciative of his body) he gets into it and develops a bit of a praise kink for it but but he hits a rough patch and gets into a dark place, feeling very undeserving of the love and attention Reader gives him. The person who made the request asked me to focus on his feelings and emotions when he is feeling bad and insecure (and specifically asked for some tears to be shed, lol) so I did my best to beat the crap out of Frankie (emotionally).

I hope this is somewhat what they had in mind and that they like it :) I've never really written anything like this (PWP queen over here) so I hope I got it right and didn't make Frankie too OOC. Hope you all enjoy it!

Page dividers provided by the gracious and talented @saradika-graphics

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My Masterlist Word Count: 9.8k Fandom: Triple Frontier (Frankie Morales x f!Reader) Notes: Pre/No TF Mission. Fic title is from the song of the same name by Troye Sivan. Warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. Angst. Drama. Body Insecurity/Self-esteem issues. Praise Kink. Smut (pretty tame and not a lot, considering its me lol, but its there). Sad!Frankie. Mid-Life-Crisis!Frankie. Emotional hurt/comfort. Eventual happy ending. Established Relationship. No use of y/n. No physical description of Reader.

“Babe, have you seen my -“ you cut yourself off mid sentence as you turn the corner and your eyes land on your boyfriend, leisurely sprawled on the couch with his legs up on the ottoman, ankles crossed over each other and television remote firmly in hand while a baseball game plays in the background.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” Frankie asks, incredulous.

“We have to be at Will and Benny’s in like…” you pause to look at your watch. “Fifteen minutes! And what is that… are you eating the potato salad I made?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Frankie responds, forkful halfway to his mouth again already.

“Oh my god” You shake your head. You literally can’t with him today. You made that for the barbecue pool party today and now it was nearly half gone.

“Nevermind, let’s just go” you huff. You’re not in a great mood and maybe you’re being a little bitchier than usual thanks to this god awful heatwave but Frankie wasn’t helping matters any.

“I’ll be in the car” you grumble towards his general direction as you head out the front door. At least there’s A/C in the Jeep.

Surprisingly he doesn’t keep you waiting long. He’s shoving his slides on his feet as he hops down the front steps only a minute or so later and then jumps into the driver’s seat next to you, buckling his seatbelt and the two of you head out of the driveway.

“See, plenty of time” He grins at you when you pull up to the outside of your friends house a short while later with actually a few minutes to spare before your requested arrival time. You had attempted to stay mad at him, neither of you speaking more than one or two words the entire drive but now with that stupidly adorable smirk on his face you have no choice but to want to kiss it off of him. Despite your best efforts, a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“There it is” his grin widens as he brings a hand up to pinch at your cheek and you playfully swat him away, trying and failing to hold back a little laugh.

“Baby I don’t know what you think we’re gonna miss anyway. It’s my birthday party. They literally can’t start without me”

“Francisco Morales, you’re going to be late to your own funeral, you know that don’t you?” You shake your head at him but the smile hasn’t left your lips.

“Oh baby we’re gonna be real late if you keep that ‘Francisco’ talk up” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at you and reaching over the center console to grab a handful of your upper thigh. “Maybe we skip the party all together, you give me my birthday present early, hmm?”

“Get out of the car you perv!” You laugh, giving him a playful shove. “Are you sure you’re turning 40 and not 14?”

“All right, all right I’ll behave” He sighs, hands up in the air to signal his defeat.

You’re glad he seems like he’s in a better mood so far today. He’s been a little off the last couple of days and you can’t say why. You’ve asked a few times if something was bothering him but he kept shrugging you off, insisting everything was fine. You chalked it up to maybe just work stress and are hoping now that the weekend is here that he’ll be able to just relax and have a great time with his friends.

Despite you being early, the party is actually in full swing on your arrival. You and Frankie let yourselves in through the back gate where the backyard is filled with several of Frankie’s (and now yours, you supposed) friends milling about. The ones you recognize immediately are his old military unit; Santiago, Benny, Will and Tom, as well as Will’s girlfriend and Tom’s wife. There are a few other people around you’ve definitely met before but can’t place all of them. Either way, you’re glad to see so many people have shown up for Frankie on his big day.

The space is decorated too with balloons everywhere, a giant banner that reads “Happy Birthday Fish!” and a big poster board is taped up against the side of the house as soon as you walk in that has pictures of Frankie and his family and friends all over it with the title “40 Years In The Making” written at the top in huge block lettering. You and Frankie both take a moment to look over the board before anyone deeper inside the yard notices you yet. There are a bunch of photos from his younger military days and even a few from when he was just a boy that have you gushing over him, telling Frankie how adorable he was and pinching his cheek for good measure. You spot a couple of pictures of Frankie having fallen asleep at a party (something he’s been known to do) with his signature ball cap pulled down over his face and beer bottle loosely gripped in his hand and those give you both a good laugh. There’s two photos of you and him together, you notice, and your personal favourite picture of Frankie - him flying his helicopter wearing a pair of Aviators, looking so sexy it makes you melt each time you see it.

You safely assume the wife and girlfriends of Frankie’s closest pals were mostly to thank for the decorating. If it were up to the boys there would be a folded table in the middle of the backyard with a pack of cards and a cooler full of beer and that would be it.

“There he is!” Benny shouts across the yard the moment he spots you both just inside the gate. He dashes across the patio and throws his arms around Frankie, nearly knocking him over in the process before landing a few hard slaps to his back. “Happy birthday ya old fuck” he teases, grabbing on to Frankie’s shoulder and jostling him slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be your turn soon enough” Frankie reminds him but Benny just shrugs.

“Always be younger than you though” he winks and that earns him a little shove from Frankie.

The rest of the greetings go more or less the same way, playful teasing or ribbing on Frankie for turning the big “4-0”. It gets old quickly but if it bothers Frankie he doesn’t let it show, just takes it in stride as he makes his way through the small crowd and says his hello’s.

By the time you get home much later that night you’re exhausted. It’s late and the day had been long (and hot in that blistering sun). Add to that you’re sober whereas everyone around you had been thoroughly wasted which made the night seem to drag on even longer. You wanted Frankie to have a great time, it was his birthday after all, so you offered to drive you both tonight and somehow that had turned into you offering to be an Uber driver for half the party so instead of it taking ten minutes to get home it had taken an hour.

“I’m beat” you announce through a long drawn out yawn, stretching tired limbs over your head. “You wanna come to bed with me, birthday boy?” You ask playfully, walking up to Frankie and looping your fingers through the belt loops of his tan cargo shorts to tug him a little closer, hoping he catches on that you’re not that tired.

“Think I’m gonna shower, I hate smelling like chlorine” he complains, gently taking your hands and removing them from his waist. “You go on, I won’t be long” he promises before leaning forward and planting a kiss to your forehead.

“Baby,” you whine, a masterful pout displayed on your lips. “C’mon upstairs with me, while it’s still your birthday” you try seductively, hand reaching out to brush over the outside of his pants at his crotch.

“I said I want to shower” Frankie replies back, a little too curtly for your liking and his tone leaving no room for argument as he pushes your hand away a second time. You frown and the huff of disappointment you breathe out doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“Baby come on, I’m sorry. I just don’t wanna go to bed smelling like chemicals. Go on up to bed, I’ll be right behind you” he says with finality and gives your hand a little squeeze before dropping it and heading off to the bathroom.

You sigh but let him go. Truthfully you’d been trying to drag him out of the party for hours, desperate to get him alone and all to yourself. You don’t know what’s come over you today but you felt downright needy for him, your hormones just off the charts and now he’s making you wait even longer when all you want to do is rip his clothes off and show him exactly how glad you are that he was born forty years ago today and by some cosmic twist of fate found his way into your life.

Once in the bedroom and settled into bed you hear the spray of water come to life in the bathroom down the hall and your mind can’t help but drift and think about Frankie, naked and in the shower. How the water is cascading down his broad shoulders to his soft tummy and strong, thick legs and a heat floods your body, going straight to the lower part of your abdomen. You loved his body and you weren’t shy about telling him either. You remember back to when you’d first started dating, the early stages of your intimate relationship. He was so shy around you at first, always insisting the lights be off or even leaving his t-shirt on when you’d have sex. It was all a mystery to you, how someone as gorgeous as Frankie could have self-esteem issues but you loved to remind him how crazy he drove you and how perfect he was in your eyes.

At first he got so embarrassed at your borderline worship of his body, refused to even believe you in the beginning but he warmed up eventually to the point where he loved it. Craved it, even, your praise of him. Though he’d never admitted to it out loud and always remained a little bashful about it, you could tell. Frankie was already a very generous, selfless and enthusiastic lover, but when you really got vocal with him (or better yet let your tongue and hands do the talking) of how much you enjoyed every part of his physical anatomy, Frankie could get downright animalistic with you and it brought the already amazing sex to a whole new level for you both. You had definitely uncovered a little praise-kink in your boyfriend that you don’t think he even knew existed in himself and honestly no sexual relationship you’ve had in the past could ever hold a candle to the one you and Frankie have created together.

You plan on using every weapon in your arsenal on him tonight to truly wish him a happy birthday he won’t soon forget. You’ll caress, kiss and lick your way from his prominent neck vein, his broad chest with just the lightest smattering of golden brown hair, take more than enough time for your tongue to appreciate each of his small dusty pink nipples before you continue down his sternum to where he gets a little softer. You’ll playfully nip and suck at the small expanse of flesh at his belly that protrudes just barely over his waistline, making sure to let him know with words how gorgeous he is, how hot he makes you, how he’s all yours. You just hope you get to have your fill before he takes his own. It had taken you a while to get Frankie to allow you to appreciate him the way you wanted to. He was always insistent on your pleasure and he still is to this day, but you’ve managed to strike a fairly delicate balance now for the most part, though you’ll admit there are days where Frankie comes home and he just needs you. You’ve come to recognize it on him and you’re glad to give him the reins when that happens, knowing that he’ll allow you to do the same when you need it. When you said Frankie was a generous lover you weren’t exaggerating. That man would spend hours with his face buried between your legs if you’d let him, and sometimes you’d let him do just that. But tonight was for him and tonight you need him. Need to show him how in love with him you are in a way that words just can’t do.

You have to press your thighs together just at the thought of him in the shower now, hoping he won’t be long so you can hopefully pull him out of this weird mood he’d been in most of the day. It started not long after you got to Will and Benny’s. Just silly, little things that just seemed to set him off to the point where he’d either pick a fight with you (or whoever else he happened to be talking to) or just get overly quiet and wander off by himself. You think back trying to think what could’ve started it all. He’d gone into the party in a good enough mood but soon after he started acting weird. The two of you barely fought, like ever, and here you were today in front of all your friends getting into a yelling match with each other about goddamn sunscreen of all things. And it wasn’t just you, he seemed overly quiet today around everyone, even his best friends who were more like brothers to him than anything and none of it made sense to you, you just hope now that he was home maybe he’d get out of his funk.

Your mind doesn’t have any longer to dwell however because Frankie emerges from the bathroom and into the bedroom, already changed into a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Your tongue absent-mindedly peeks out to swipe across your bottom lip at the way the wet curls stick to his forehead or how tiny droplets of water soak through the thin cotton of his dark gray t-shirt because he didn’t quite dry himself all the way off before tugging it over his head.

Not that it matters, you don’t plan on him wearing it long anyway.

“Finally” you smile at him from your spot on the bed and shuffle back slightly to pat down on the space next to you on the mattress. You pull back the bed covers to reveal that you’re wearing next to nothing, A black lacy bra and matching panties that really left nothing to the imagination. It was Frankie’s favourite on you.

“You didn’t have to wait up” Frankie says casually, looking down as he unfastens his watch from his wrist to toss it on the nightstand. If he notices your state of nearly undress during his brief glance in your direction he doesn’t say anything or even react. “Thought you were tired” he adds, feigning concern for your sleep habits.

“Read between the lines Morales, was just trying to get you into bed” you tease, sticking the tip of your tongue out at him playfully. He says nothing in response, just flips off the light and crawls in next to you but to your surprise just throws the comforter over you both and turns on his side and faces away from you as he scrunches up his pillow under his head until he’s comfortable and settles.

You frown, not that he can see you, but shuffle over to him anyway so you’re pressed up against his back and your arm slings around his waist. You stay still for a minute, waiting to see if he’ll take your less than subtle hint that you’re “not tired” but he just lays there, unmoving, and so you decide it’s time to take matters into your own hands. Literally.

Your hand slips under the hem of his shirt to rest on his soft belly and begins to gently explore. Fingertips dancing along the smooth skin and sparse little body hairs and moving over to his hip where you grab onto the small bit of extra skin there and massage his side but before you can go any further he’s grabbing your hand and pushing it out from under his shirt. He brings it to rest on top of his chest over the thin cotton of his t-shirt and just holds his hand over top of yours.

“Baby?” You breathe out into the blackness of the room, worry evident in your tone. Was he angry at you for something else now? You hadn’t even done anything for him to be mad at you about, you’ve been in bed the whole time.

“Sorry, I’m just tired” he mumbles into the pillow but you’re not buying it. Frankie was a bit of a night owl, not to mention it was a Saturday night, neither of you had work in the morning and the two of you always made sure to make the most of your weekend nights together when you could really take the time to make love the way you craved to all week.

“Hey,” you call out softly, grabbing for his shoulder and pulling it towards you so he’ll turn to face you. He lets you, turning halfway to you, onto his back and craning his neck to face you.

“Is everything okay? Are you mad at me or something?” You ask genuinely concerned. You try not to make it sound like you’re pouting because you’re not, you just need to know what’s going on with him. Maybe he’s upset about something, or maybe just a little too drunk to actively participate the way he thinks he should but you wouldn’t mind too much if he was, you certainly don’t mind taking care of him and you know he’ll more than make it up to you the next time.

He lets out a sigh and tiredly rubs at his eyes.

“Of course not. Come here, I’m sorry” he sighs once more and lifts his arm closest to you so you can snuggle into him, your head resting on his shoulder and your arm drapes across his middle again. He tilts his head down slightly to kiss the top of your hair but otherwise makes no moves to initiate anything further physically with you, just holds you tightly to his body.

“Are you really tired?” You ask quietly, turning your face slightly to nuzzle into his neck and plant little kisses there. You feel the little shudder that runs through his body and a smile pulls at your lips.

Maybe he wasn’t mad at you.

“I haven’t given you your present yet” you breathe into the warm flesh of his throat, tongue darting out to give a tentative little lick to the underside of his jaw and he rewards you with the slightest little moan, but it’s enough that you heard it and it encourages you to continue.

You begin to kiss and lick your way down the column of his throat while your hand leaves his chest to come down and gently palm him over his boxers and he instinctively thrusts his hips into your touch and you moan into his skin. You can feel him beginning to swell under your touch already.

“Mmm, can I take you out?” You murmur against his collarbone and he nods his head.

“Yeah,” he lets out in a breathy whisper and brings his own free hand down to help you shove his boxers down his thighs until he’s able to kick out of them.

Your hand wraps around his impressive length the moment he’s free from the confines of his underwear, slowly pumping him with practiced strokes and it’s not long until he’s fully hard in your hand and quietly grunting and groaning, your face buried in the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. You hate that his shirt is still on, your mouth not able to reach all the places it desperately wants to.

Your hand leaves him for a moment as you push yourself up onto your knees and swing one leg over him so you're straddling his hips, your hands resting on his chest overtop of the soft worn cotton.

“You can be tired baby, let me all do the work” you coo, leaning down to place another kiss to his jaw as you slowly grind your pelvis into his. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just too tired or drunk to have the full cognitive function he needed but that was fine by you, tonight was for him anyways.

“Shit,” he groans, hands sliding under the back of your panties to grope the globes of your ass in his two large hands and he presses you down even harder against his groin just as he thrusts his hips upwards, the delicious friction causing a moan to escape your lips.

“Mmm, you feel so good” you whimper against his heated flesh as you nuzzle the underside of his jaw and into his throat.

“Take these off” Frankie practically growls, impatiently shoving your underwear down and with his help you manage to wiggle free of them. You both moan in unison when your lower halves press together again, this time with no barriers between you as his throbbing member slides through your slick folds with every calculated thrust of your hips against him.

“Baby you make me so wet” you giggle, hands roaming his hard chest and broad shoulders. “God you’re so hot” you praise, mouth latching back onto his neck as you trail hot open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat until you reach the collar of his t-shirt.

“Off” you gently demand, hands going to the bottom of his tee and beginning to push it upwards. You need to feel all of him, his warm skin on yours. Need to lick and kiss and touch every inch of him. “Let me touch you”

“Mnnmm mnmm” he shakes his head and without warning suddenly flips you both with practiced ease until you’re underneath him flat on your back and he’s on hands and knees looming over you. He grabs your wrists and hauls them up above your head, bringing them together so he’s able to hold them down with one hand against the top of the mattress so he can have one free and you giggle up at him.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re supposed to be tired, old man” you tease him but there’s no mirth in his eyes after he hears your words, no lingering smile on his lips. There’s desire, sure, but something else on his features. Subtle, whatever it is, but it’s there.

“Do you wanna fuck or not? Jesus,” he snaps. “I can’t do anything fucking right”

Oh, and there it is. It’s anger.

Your face scrunches up at his little outburst. That was not like Frankie at all. Not your sweet, loving, caring Frankie who adored you, this was someone else, someone you didn’t recognize.

“Get off me” you huff, easily wiggling your wrists free as he wasn’t holding too tightly and you bring your hands up to shove at his chest. His yelling at you instantly taking you out of the mood.

He does, immediately. He rolls off of you, grabs for his discarded boxers near the bottom of the bed and shoves them on. You do the same with your own underwear and also pull the sheet up to cover yourself, not wanting to feel any more vulnerable in front of him than you already do.

You have no idea what in the fuck that was all about, snapping at you like that when you thought everything was going rather well. He really was in a mood today apparently, and you didn’t care for it one bit. You’re already feeling overly emotional today, your period must be just around the corner or something.

The room falls silent. Frankie sits on the edge of the side of the bed, hands on his thighs and head hanging low while you lay back against the headboard, fingers twisting into the sheets, holding them around you like a shield. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to fall but you quickly blink them away before you bury your head in your knees.

“Do you want me to sleep downstairs?” He asks softly, the gruffness gone from his voice now. He sounds almost apologetic, though he’s still yet to apologize. He's not looking at you either, but your grateful for that at this moment.

You say nothing. Not trusting your voice just yet but the tiniest sniffle from your nose is near deafening in the stillness of the room. You quickly clear your throat in an attempt to cover the sound but it’s too late. Frankie’s head whips around back in your direction and he’s suddenly scrambling up the bed to wrap his arms around your lower back. Your legs lower instinctively to let him in and he lies over top of you with his head resting on your middle.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he breathes out, voice muffled by the thin layer of the bed sheet as he buries his face into your stomach. “I’m an asshole”

“You’re not” you sigh. “Just - tell me what’s going on with you” you say calmly, hands now petting through his hair.

“Nothin’” he grumbles into your tummy.

“It’s not nothing, come on,” you try, a little softer this time. “You can tell me anything, you know I love you no matter what”

“Why?”

It's so quiet, so soft, mumbled against you that your ears almost didn’t even pick it up. Your heart breaks a little at the single uttered syllable.

“Hey,” you frown, grabbing both sides of his face in your hands and forcing him to look up at you. “Are you seriously asking why I love you? Where’s this coming from?” You ask, concerned. He’s been known to get down on himself from time to time but you’ve never seen him like this and it worries you.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rolls off of you, crawling up the bed to lay on his back next to you and rubs his hands over his face.

“Baby, talk to me” you press, turning to your side and curling up to his larger frame, hand stretching out to rest on his chest as your fingers play absently with the soft material of his t-shirt. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, 40 happened” he groans, hand doing a sweeping motion down his body. “I mean, look at this” he shakes his head.

“Oh baby trust me, I look at this every day” you counter, an appreciative smile playing on your lips as your hand gently rubs into his chest.

“This perfect,” you pause to press a kiss into his cheek. “Sexy,” another kiss to his jaw. “Man of my dreams”

“Stop” he huffs, gently pushing you away. “Just don’t… say shit like that. It’s not true” he argues, flipping over onto his side to face away from you.

You know when to push him and when not to, and now is not one of those times. You’ll let him have his moment, knowing if you get too in his face about it he’s likely just going to shut down and you need him to be open with you if you’re going to get anywhere. So instead you just leave him be, but stay nestled into his side, your hand rubbing small circles into his back and shoulder blades, just a soft gesture to let him know you’re here and not going anywhere.

Long minutes pass and after a while you think maybe he’s fallen asleep, until you hear it. It’s barely audible, but it’s there. The tiniest whimper falls from his lips, followed by a quiet little sniffle before he buries his face into a pillow in an attempt to cover it up and your whole heart breaks in two.

“Frankie, baby” you soothe, pulling on his shoulder and forcing him to turn towards you. Surprisingly he doesn’t fight it, just lets you roll him over and he instantly buries his face in your neck once he’s facing you, unable to look you in the eyes. But you don’t need to see him, you can feel the hot tears on his cheeks as he presses into you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders a little tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head as he lets his emotions out.

“I love you, ok?” You whisper against his chocolate brown curls, your lips pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He says nothing, just nods his head against you that he knows you love him and he knows he’s being oversensitive but he just can’t help it.

“I wish you could see what I see” you murmur against him, still hugging him tightly to your body.

Franky gently pushes back from you slightly, quickly wiping at his eyes and collecting himself before his red-rimmed gaze settles on yours.

“I’m sorry I’m in a shit mood and taking it out on you, it’s not fair and you don’t deserve it” he apologizes, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just feeling down on myself I guess and I dragged you into it and I’m sorry”

“Is that what’s been going on all day?” You ask, genuinely curious. You’re starting to piece it together now, all the teasing he’s put up with all day, how he only seemed to be snapping at you when you complimented him or tried to take off his shirt tonight. Not to mention all his friends running around half naked in just their swim trunks all afternoon, most of whom kept themselves in very tip top shape. Maybe Frankie had grown a little softer since the two of you have been together but you loved it on him, his ‘dad bod’ physique. He has nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, as far as you’re concerned. But you suppose it’s hard not to feel self conscious when standing next to a shirtless Will, Benny or Santiago who all look like they could be models in some sort of hot firefighter calendar or something. None of them did anything for you though, Frankie would always hold your heart and your gaze, no matter who he was standing next to.

“I guess” Frankie sighs, fingers now picking at an imaginary thread on the blanket underneath you. “Sometimes I just wonder…” he trails off again and you frown.

“Wonder what?”

“Wonder what in the hell you’re doin’ with me” he sighs, throwing his hands up. “I’m a fuck-up. Forty years old and what have I accomplished in my life? I have a shit job, working for an asshole I can’t stand, flying tourists around and giving private lessons on the side to rich jerkoffs who don’t give a shit about learning anything about flying, just want a cool photo for their Instagram. Since I left the service I just feel like… Like I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life anymore so I just haven’t done fucking anything. And you… god knows why you give me the time of day but you do and I just don’t ever feel like I’m enough. Least I could fucking do for you is go to the gym and take care of myself, god knows I need to eat healthier” He shakes his head and you’re unsure for a moment if he’s done beating himself up but before you even have a chance to articulate a response he starts up again.

“Like look at this!” He shouts suddenly, voice raised much higher than moments earlier as he rips his shirt off his head and sweeps his hand down his front. “How can you be in love with this, with someone who looks like this?! I… fuck’”

He doesn’t get any more words out, his hands flying to his face to hide his shame as he starts sobbing with how much hatred he apparently holds for himself and you can’t take it. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and holding him as tightly to your body as possible. Thankfully he doesn’t push you away, just grabs onto you like you're his only lifeline, clinging to you with desperation.

“Frankie, my love, oh Frankie” you’re in tears now too, holding onto him for dear life so he can’t slip away from you. You won’t let him. Not this time.

You crawl into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms still around his neck like a needy spider monkey.

“I love you, so fucking much” you clarify, because you need him to hear you. “I’m sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable. I know I can get carried away sometimes but I guess I just thought you were okay with it, thought we were both into it. But I’ve never lied to you when I tell you how I feel about you or your body. Do you hear me, Francisco?” You ask and after a moment he nods his head just slightly, just once.

“I am crazy about you, whether you believe it or understand it. But if it makes you uncomfortable when I express my physical attraction to you the way that I do, then I'll stop. Or, you know, try to. Sometimes in the heat of the moment it might just come out but you can remind me and I swear I'll do my best. Just tell me what you need from me baby, whatever it is I’ll give it to you. I can’t lose you Frankie, I can’t!” Your tears flow even harder and Frankie’s grip around you tightens at your words.

“I know, I know” he murmurs softly. “Too fucking good for me” he reiterates quietly, but not in an argumentative way like he’d meant it earlier, more like he can’t believe you put up with his shit but he’s so glad that you do. You think maybe your words have sunk in because he's not arguing with you anymore, not berating himself, just absorbing everything. You decide to leave it be for now. You've said your peace, now you can only hope he'll believe your words and take everything you've said into consideration to fend off whatever demons are feasting inside of him. All you want is his happiness and you know that you can't be the one to solely give that to him, that he needs to find it within himself as well, but you're damn sure willing and hoping that he'll take the support you give him and that he'll let you be there at his side to continue to take on this journey of life together. If he wants to find a new job, or a new career even, you'd support him through that in every way you can. You'll do whatever is in your power to get him through this and you just hope now that he knows that.

You hold each other for several minutes, neither of you saying anything further, just taking whatever comfort you have left to offer one another. You don't push him for any more communication, assuming if he's not speaking it's because his thoughts are still a little all over the place and he still hasn't quite worked it all out for himself. He'll talk about it again when he's ready and whether that's tonight or tomorrow or next month, you'll wait for him. He's worth the wait, there's no doubt in your mind about that.

After a while Frankie shifts you both until he’s lied down on his back on the bed with you half draped over top of him and eventually sleep overcomes the tears and emotions and your breathing evens out as you both drift off within minutes of lying down, the full events of the day finally taking its toll on your weary bodies.

When you wake again the sun hasn’t quite risen to the sky but you know it’s only minutes away, not hours. You feel like you didn’t sleep at all. Your head is pounding like you’re the one who finished a gallon of tequila last night, not your boyfriend and his friends. Frankie is beside you, though you’ve more or less switched positions. You’re fully on your back with Frankie’s arm draped across your middle, his face buried into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder and he snores softly. You’re glad he’s sleeping peacefully, god knows he needs it. You carefully extract yourself from him, needing to get up and use the bathroom, tossing on a pair of shorts and a tank top. As you pad across the plush carpeting and out to the hallway your mind spins a hundred different directions as you think about yesterday, about last night. You were both highly emotional but truth be told you’ve felt off for weeks. More tired. Bitchy. And you know you’ve been taking it out on Frankie even when he’s the last person that deserves it and who knows, maybe he thought you’ve been trying to push away from him and last night he just tried to do it himself before you got the chance to and he let his insecurities get the better of him. Of course that wasn’t your intention, you’ve never felt for anyone the way you feel about him and you meant every word last night when you told him you can’t lose him. You’ve just been a mess lately and you can’t really explain it other than you know it’s nothing to do with Frankie and certainly not his fault, he just takes the brunt of your ‘crazy’ because he’s the closest person to you. You don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you unless…

Shit.

You practically sprint the rest of the way to the bathroom down the hall, tossing open drawers and cupboards and medicine cabinets in a flurry as you look for that precious little white stick that might explain a whole hell of a lot that’s been going on with you.

“Hey” you softly call out from the doorway of the bedroom, leaning up against it with a large glass of water in hand. Frankie slowly stirs. He’s on his stomach now and raises his head to look at you through sleep-bleared eyes, wayward curls falling across his forehead.

“Hey” he rasps out, voice no doubt shot from all the talking and yelling and crying from last night.

This is what the water was for.

You cross the room and he immediately throws the blanket open, inviting you into his warm cocoon as he slightly sits up against the headboard. You hand him the water as you settle in next to his large warm frame and he chugs the entire glass in record time.

“Ah, thank you, I needed that” he says, clearing his throat and then reaching past you to place the glass on the nightstand before he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur into his chest, hand coming up to draw small shapes against his clavicle.

“Like a bit of a first class idiot, if I’m bein’ honest” he sighs and you squeeze your arms around him a little tighter.

“Don’t, babe” you tut, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You were feeling a lot yesterday and it obviously needed to come out. I’m glad it did. We need to be honest with each other, you know?” You tell him, tilting your head to look up at his face. He flashes the tiniest smile at you and leans down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose before you settle back against his chest.

“Some of the things I said last night though, I didn’t even mean. Not really…” he trails off, shaking his head like he’s trying to get his thoughts in order.

You push back from him slightly and up into a sitting position and turn to face him so the two of you can have a real conversation.

“Like what?”

He shrugs shyly and looks away, fingers fidgeting with the blanket around his waist. You hear a mumbled ‘dunno’ fall from his lips. You have a pretty good idea what he’s getting at but know that he’s too embarrassed to say it himself so you help him out, scooting a little closer and placing a hand on his naked chest before you let it slowly drift lower, fingertips dancing across his warm soft flesh and his eyes close and he lets out a content little sigh as he feels your hands on his body again.

“Last night I thought that maybe… I sometimes make you feel uncomfortable when we’re in bed with the attention I give and show you... Was that just insecure Frankie talking?” You ask softly. His eyes are still closed but he nods his head. Your hand rests on his stomach and you slide it upwards again and wrap it around his neck, your thumb brushing back and forth behind his ear.

“Sorry I basically called you a liar last night. That wasn’t fair of me” He tells you sincerely, finally opening his eyes to look back at yours. “I know you love me. All of me. God knows why, but you do” he finishes with a teasing smirk.

“I do love all of you. Every inch. And sometimes I just love showing you how much I do” you shrug.

“I know. And if I’m bein’ honest… I do… y’know, like it. I really like it. I just, yesterday, I don’t know what came over me. Just feeling sorry for myself I guess and wasn’t feeling… up to par, for you, and I guess I got a little too much in my own head. Shit I don’t know, guys teasing me all night, I probably had too much to drink and looking at those stupid pictures of me from when I was much younger and took better care of myself just had me feeling not very good about myself”

“Frankie, baby,” you begin, shifting your position so you can swing one knee over to the other side of his hips so you’re sitting on his lap on your knees facing him while he rests against the headboard. His hands immediately go to your hips and rest there, just holding you, while yours go to his shoulders.

“You never have to doubt for a moment how I feel about you. How I desire you. I need you to hear me on that” you tell him, staring into his eyes in hopes he doesn’t get too embarrassed and turn away from you again. To your delight, he doesn’t. He holds your gaze and his thumbs absently draw small circles on your hips. “I am in love with this Frankie, the one right in front of me. To me he’s sweet and perfect and yeah, he turns me on. Like, a fucking lot. So sorry, but you’re just gonna have to face facts, and thems the facts” you conclude teasingly and he lets out a little chuckle.

“Understood” he nods once before he pushes forward slightly and his mouth latches on to the side of your throat, gently kissing at your inviting flesh. Your head falls back and your hands travel up to hold the back of his head, fingers running through soft chestnut curls.

“There’s something else you said last night…” you begin, trailing off slightly as Frankie’s hot mouth on your skin attempts to distract you.

“Mmm?” He mumbles into your neck, not letting up from what he’s doing as he licks and nips and sucks at the supple flesh of your throat.

Despite wanting nothing more than for him to continue, your hands go to his chest and you gently push him back. He falls back against the headboard with a quiet thud and looks at you with a hint of confusion and worry in his gaze.

“You said you haven’t accomplished anything since leaving the military and well… I just wanted you to know that I am currently in possession of evidence that you have accomplished something very special. Might even be the most important thing you’ve done in your life” you shrug and he raises a curious eyebrow at you.

“Possess… what? What do you mean?”

Rather than spell it out for him, you take his large hand in two of yours and bring it to rest on your stomach, his palm flat across the span of your belly. It’s probably too early for a ‘bump’ just yet but you hold his hand there all the same and within seconds you watch as the realization dawns across his face. At first his brow furrows like he’s confused but then they perk up and his face splits into a giant grin that reaches his eyes and causes them to crinkle at the corners.

“Baby are you… are you serious?” He asks for confirmation and you simply nod your head.

“I mean, I think so. I’ve been feeling kinda off for a while and you my dear boyfriend were too sweet to call me out on any of my crazy shit” you add teasingly and huffs a little laugh but shakes his head. “Then it all kinda clicked into place when I woke up so I took a test this morning and it was positive” you shrug. “I’ll have to make a doctors appointment to be su-“

You don’t get the rest of the words out before Frankie is on you. He surges forward pressing his mouth to yours in a firm kiss before he moves to start peppering tiny little kisses all over your face and neck until you’re bubbling over with laughter as his facial scruff tickles your throat with his frantic movements.

“We’re having a baby?” He asks, eyes welled up with tears as he pushes back from you to stare into yours. He needs to hear you say it, make sure he’s not dreaming this moment. You had a close call together once before, hence the left over pregnancy tests in your bathroom cupboard but nothing came of it. Neither of you expressed disappointment or relief over the false alarm several months back, just kept on with your lives but now it felt different. At least for you. You felt… ready. Excited, even.

“We’re having a baby” you confirm, wide grin across your lips, ecstatic that Frankie is happy with this news.

“Oh my god” he breathes out, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you tightly against his chest so he can bury his nose in your hair. “I'm gonna be a dad?”

“You’re gonna be a great dad” you clarify.

“Oh my god” he breathes out again, pulling you back tightly against him one last time.

“I’m so glad you’re happy about this” you blubber through a few tears, squeezing him back just as tightly. You really weren’t sure how this news would go over, especially given the events of last night and how Frankie currently felt about his position in life but you are incredibly relieved at how happy this news has made him. You weren’t planning this, like at all, but you suppose when you have as much sex as you and Frankie do, no matter how careful you are, it’s bound to happen.

“Of course I'm happy” Frankie murmurs into your shoulder. “I’m so fucking happy” you can feel a few stray tears fall against your skin and you smile, holding him impossibly tighter.

You stay there for several long moments, just letting everything sink in before Frankie speaks and breaks the silence. It’s quiet, muffled into the warmth of your skin as his face stays buried in your neck, but you hear it.

“Will you marry me?”

“What?” You breathe out in shock. You heard him, you know you heard exactly what he said, but… is this really happening?

“Will you-”

“I heard you” you quickly interrupt, gently pulling back from him enough so you can look at each other again. You put both hands on his face, searching for any traces of regret like maybe he just blurted that out because of the endorphins coursing through his body but he looks back at you only with pure love in those giant brown irises of his.

All the same, you need to be sure he’s absolutely sure and not just doing this because he thinks it’s ‘the right thing to do’. You want him to marry you because he wants to marry you, not because of any obligation he might feel. To be honest you’ve been waiting for a while for him to pop the question, you figured you’ve been together long enough, living together even for a while now but it hadn’t happened yet. You try not to feel too over excited that he’s asked you now, in case it’s for the wrong reasons, but you can’t help but feel how your heart practically soared the moment the words fell from his lips.

“And?...” Frankie asks hopefully and you realize it’s been several long seconds without you actually giving him an answer.

“Baby,” You sigh, your gaze glancing down for a moment and you feel his shoulders drop a little, like he’s already anticipating you saying no to him. “I would marry you in a damn heartbeat but… I just don’t want you to ask me now because you think you have to. This is a lot, I just don’t want to put any more pressure on you. I don’t expect you to suddenly feel ready to marry me because of this”

You try desperately to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. If he agrees with you and takes it back you won’t be mad with him but you know your heart will be just a little bit broken.

“Wait right here” he suddenly pipes up, taking your hands and pressing them into your lap before he extracts himself from the bed and runs over to the closet. You watch him closely, not exactly sure what he’s up to as he scavenges around at the top of the closet for a moment, rooting through a box you recognize that holds some of his military achievements that he said he didn’t want to hang up or have on display, a chapter of his life he had closed.

He seems to find what he’s been after and scurries back over to the bed, crawling across it on his knees until he’s back in front of you again and presses a small blue velvet box into your hands. You flip the lid open and a soft gasp leaves your lungs.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to do this” he shrugs. “I bought it weeks ago and I wanted to, you know, plan something big for you and then ask you but, I mean, what’s a bigger moment than this, right?”

Your eyes well up again (happy tears this time) as you stare down at the beautifully crafted diamond engagement ring that sparkles brightly despite the low lighting of your bedroom. The band is a beautiful rose gold, your favourite, and the cut of the diamond and style of the ring is one you’ve been dreaming about since you were a little girl. Clearly Frankie paid attention all those times you happened to pass by a jewelry store together.

“You’ve had this for weeks?” You ask through your tears, still not believing it, your dream actually coming true. Not only was Frankie asking you to marry him, but it was his idea and something he’d decided on long before he knew you were pregnant.

“Yeah I guess I’ll have to call off the marching band and the flash-mob dancers now though” he teases with a smirk. “Unless you want me to take it back and-” he goes to reach for the ring but you snatch the box out of reach, clutching it to your chest.

“Not on your life pal” you playfully threaten.

“Can I at least put it on you then?” he laughs. “That is, if you’re saying yes? Wait, let me…” he trails off and scoots off the bed again only to kneel down on one bent knee beside it. He reaches up and turns you so you’re facing him and a huge dopey smile spreads across your lips as you watch him want to do this at least somewhat properly. If anyone asks later you’ll leave out the part where he’s half naked when he popped the question.

“May I have that back, just for a second?” He asks and you oblige him, handing back the box.

He begins with saying your full name and your heart practically flutters in your chest as you take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure and get through this without being a weeping, blubbering mess.

“Would you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?” he asks, slight tremble in his voice from his nerves and all you can do is give him a face splitting smile before you frantically nod your head and yank him up from the floor, crushing your mouth to his.

“Yes I’ll marry you Francisco Morales” you murmur against his lips between hungry kisses. “About damn time” you tease and he laughs at that as well. He knows he probably should have done this sooner but he’d been waiting to save up enough money to get you the perfect ring he knew you deserved.

Frankie regretfully pulls away from your mouth to carefully pull the ring from the box and place it on your finger before he holds both your hands in his and lets out a big sigh of relief.

“You make me so happy” he confesses, leaning down so his forehead rests against yours. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you any reason to doubt that, but you’re the best thing in my life. Best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making sure that you and this little one feel the same way about me”

“I will always feel the same way about you Frankie” you promise, eyes slipping shut as another tear escapes which Frankie gently brushes away with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re sure you’re still gonna love me when I’m even more of a pain in the ass in a few months than I am now?” You ask playfully and Frankie huffs a laugh but nods his head affirmatively.

“We’re locked in now baby” Frankie affirms, gently twisting the ring around your finger. “It’s you and me”

“Plus one” you add, looking down to your tummy and Frankie laughs.

“Plus one” he confirms. “And maybe down the line… more than one?” he asks playfully, moving a little closer and nuzzling into your throat before he begins to plant hot little open-mouthed kisses there. You laugh wholeheartedly, your head tossing backwards. Leave it to Frankie to learn five minutes ago that you’re barely pregnant and already asking you if you want another. You really did love him with all your heart and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier than in this moment.

And it turns out that was the truth, that was your happiest moment, until about seven months later a new one replaces it as you hold your beautiful daughter in your arms for the first time. Frankie is at your side with his forehead resting against yours as a tiny hand clutches around one of his large fingers, the one that happens to have a shiny gold band around it now, and tears flow freely down his cheeks. He’d barely gotten there in time for your unexpectedly two-week-early delivery, but he’d made it. Thankfully he was well enough known around the hospital by this point that they allowed him to land his bird on the helipad on the roof before he jumped out and let his co-pilot take over for him as he rushed inside to find you.

It turned out Frankie had found his calling not long after your little unexpected surprise all those months ago. His reflections on the direction his life was going, coupled with your exciting news of having an addition to your family, gave him the push he needed to have his career together in a way that was both rewarding and challenging to him and after a few months of long days and intense training he was accepted into the local Red Cross chapter’s Search and Rescue Program as a Lead Pilot. He loved his job again. He was proud of what he did and most importantly knew that his family could be proud of him too. It allowed him to give back and to serve his community and country the way he always felt he was meant for, except now he could do it and still be home in time for dinner most nights, not shipping out to god knows where for months at a time as he had done in the service.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Morales” the doctor beamed at the two of you, though neither of you could take your gaze off the tiny bundle in your arms long enough to look back at her. Frankie mumbled a polite ‘thank you’ towards her before pressing a kiss into your temple.

“You did it baby” he murmurs against your skin and you can feel the smile spread across his lips.

“We did it baby” you correct him, turning your head just slightly to press a kiss to the underside of his chin. “We made this beautiful, perfect angel” you sigh, nuzzling back in towards your daughter, inhaling that euphoric ‘new baby smell’ you’d up until now only read about but now completely understood.

“My girls” Frankie sighs, heart swelling with content at how goddamn lucky he got in his life.

“Thank you for loving me” he confesses, lips pressed to your temple.

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @suzdin @iamasaddie @boliv-jenta @chronically-ghosted @vabeachazn @anotherpedrolover @axshadows @pedroshotwifey @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

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muertawrites · 2 years

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Of Incense and Intimacy (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]

Summary: Your roommate's recreational habits tend to wreak havoc on your anxious sensitivities, so you burn a little incense with him to help you both relax. Maybe choosing a scent called "love spell" wasn't the best idea....

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, the devil's lettuce, explicit descriptions of secks (minors i fucking see you stay behind the beaded curtain), raw dogging (wear a fuckin' raincoat y'all don't be dumb), mentions of the dirty touch, perv!eddie my beloved, my daddy kink continuing to control every aspect of my life

Word Count: 3.5k (she long and thick this time babes)

Author's Note: i just like incense a lot. ever since i got a backflow burner it's become my entire personality. my room smells amazing.

You hate doing this, ruining his fun. Especially because you know it's how he relaxes; how he deals with his own problems. Still, the tightening of your chest, the shallowness of your breathing, the fear starting to creep its way out of the corners of your mind sends you across the hall, tapping on his door.

Eddie answers in a puff of cannabis smoke, and you instinctively cover your mouth and nose with your shirt. Even in his hazy, glazed-over frame of mind, he knows exactly why you're here, and he immediately apologizes.

"Oh, shit, pumpkin, I'm sorry."

He dashes back into his room, stubbing out the joint in his hand and opening his window a crack, despite the winter chill. You stand in the doorway and sigh.

"No, I'm sorry," you say. "I'm a shit roommate."

"You have clinical anxiety." He annunciates the words as he returns to you, leaning against the door frame and giving your hair a quick, gentle pet. "It's okay."

You grimace as you flinch away, choked by the skunky smell emanating from him.

"That shit reeks," you huff. "You don't have anything better?"

Eddie chuckles, shoving the sleeve of his sweatshirt under your nose to tease you. He laughs as you smack him away.

"The high quality stuff brings in too much money," he explains. "Unless you want me to stop pitching in for takeout."

You roll your eyes and hold a finger up, telling him to wait.

"I'm not living with that stench all night."

You disappear into your bedroom, returning with a couple ceramic dishes and a stack of different sized boxes. Eddie raises an eyebrow as you set them up on his dresser, handing him a few of the boxes and directing him to choose some of the contents. He opens the topmost one, labeled "fairy dust", and removes one of the clay-coated sticks inside.

"Incense?" he realizes. He holds the stick up to his face, the scent so sweet it burns his nostrils. "Is this why your room always smells so good?"

You nod, shuffling through a few of the smaller boxes.

"It covers up the smell of weed," you explain. "I started using it like a week after we moved in together."

Eddie smirks, looking through the other scents you've brought over. Some of them are simple and self-explanatory, like basil and lily, but others are more vague, like "mystique" and "decadence". He pauses when he comes across a box marked with the words "love spell", grinning at you in that impish, borderline perverse way you know too well.

"You trying to seduce me?" he jests, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'd have to do way less than this to seduce you," you laugh. You shriek when his pillow smacks you in the back of the head.

"I'm not desperate," he defends himself. "I've been dry for over a year, y'know."

"We share a wall," you remind him. "I can hear you masturbate. Twice a day. It's like you don't even try to keep quiet."

He scoffs, attempting to play off the fierce blush that burns across his cheeks. You giggle at him; he's way too cute.

"What's weirder is that I never hear you masturbate," he deflects. "I'm starting to worry."

"I masturbate," you state matter-of-factly. "I'm just considerate enough to shut the fuck up about it."

Eddie tries to ignore the way the image of you pleasuring yourself, just feet away from him, makes his cock twitch. He clears his throat as he hands you one of the boxes, choosing at random.

"Here."

You examine it, grinning up at him.

"You picked the one called 'wizard'?" you tease. "Not surprised."

He chuckles, settling himself on the end of his mattress as he watches you place an incense stick upright in your burner and set it alight with the Zippo he keeps next to his stash. The flame flares, searing a thick, smoky path down the tip of the stick before you blow it out, leaving nothing but glowing embers and heavy, fragrant smoke curling into the air. He fixates on the purse of your lips, barely staving off the lewd thoughts that float through his mind.

As the smell of sugar and sandalwood perfumes the confined space, you pop open one of the smaller boxes and remove an incense cone from it, setting it strategically at the top of the second dish. This one is shaped like a pond, beveled with stones, complete with sculpted lily pads and painted koi. When you light the tip of the cone, sweet sage drifts upward on the wisps of smoke, waves of it cascading down the ceramic stones and into the waiting pool below.

Eddie's eyes grow wide, watching the display as if you're performing magic. You smile, curling up on his mattress so you can comfortably enjoy the view.

"That's so fucking cool," he gasps. He lays back beside you, his body fitting nicely next to yours. There isn't much room on his full bed, so you're pressed together, your head falling onto his stomach to compensate for the lack of space.

"Yeah, I knew you'd like it," you muse. "I was gonna get you one for your birthday."

You lay like that for a while, until the incense stick burns out, the silence and shared warmth far too easy between you. Eddie's arm migrates around your shoulders, hugging you close, your leg somehow finding its way between his as you fold yourself more and more into him. The scent of weed still lingers after the incense is gone, so you stand and light another, Eddie whining at the loss of your touch.

Rose petals and musk fill the air as you return to the bed, this time straddling your roommate's lap as he sits leaned against his pillows and the wall. He quirks a brow at you but doesn't protest, his hands falling without hesitation around your waist, keeping you there.

"... Maybe I am trying to seduce you. A little bit," you admit.

He smirks, eyes still glassy from his high.

"You're joking," he replies. There's no way that you - beautiful, intelligent, fiery you - want to have sex with him.

But you shake your head, arms draping over his shoulders as your chest presses to his.

"I think you're hotter than sin, Eddie Munson. And you're my best friend. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be in bed with."

Maybe it's the pot. Maybe it's how pretty you look with your hair up, greasy and messy, a day past needing a wash. Maybe it's the feel of your unconfined breasts pushed against him under your sweater. Maybe it's simply how he loves you, but can't find the words to admit it. Whatever the reason, Eddie closes the space between you with a tender, tentative kiss, his thumb grazing the naked skin just under your shirt. You smile softly against his lips, opening your mouth so they can slot together with yours, tongues finding each other with the gentlest little push.

"You taste good," he murmurs. You peck his lips as he pulls away to speak, gazing dreamily into his honey brown eyes.

"You taste like smoke," you tell him. He chuckles, returning your tiny smooch.

You take your time, savoring each other's kisses and touches in a heated round of sucking face. Eddie's movements are slow and deliberate, his tongue and his lips moving in sync with yours while his large, calloused palms rub loving circles into the skin under your sweater. When you pull away to breathe, he licks teasingly at your lips, grinning as you giggle softly. He presses lazy kisses along your jaw, your eyes falling blissfully closed as he works his way down your neck, nipping and sucking at your flesh. He's hard under his sweatpants, but he's in no rush - he loves having you close, loves having the time to worship your body the way you deserve. You knot your fingers in his hair and he lets out a breathy little moan, the sound so melodic you could listen to it on repeat for hours.

"What do you think about when you masturbate?" he wonders aloud. He thoughtfully licks his lips as he levels his face once again, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes are heavily lidded.

"It used to be Jeff Goldblum, before he gets all gross in The Fly," you divulge. "But since living with you, it's just you. The sounds you make... it's like having my own private porno."

You smirk as Eddie blushes, his hand squeezing gently at your love handle. You've masturbated... to him masturbating? All while he was none the wiser? That can't be right. He must be hearing things, mustering his own fantasies into being.

"You're so pretty..." he whispers, losing track of his thoughts.

You giggle, playfully licking at his lips the way he did yours.

"What do you think about?" you ask in return.

"You," he answers without a beat. "How you look when you walk around in just a big t-shirt. I like to imagine you riding me like that. Or when you're in the shower, I... I sometimes masturbate thinking of you in there."

Your tongue grazes over your bottom lip, teeth sinking into it as the muscle disappears into your mouth and you smile. He's shocked that you're not totally disgusted.

"I want you to bend me over," you confess.

He blinks. This can't be for real.

"What, no missionary first?" he asks.

You laugh, pressing an affectionate kiss against his lips. He returns it reflexively, grinning into you, adoring the sound of your laugh.

"Just fuck me," you whisper. "It's about time we got naked together."

Eddie obliges without further convincing. He lifts your sweater over your head, drinking in the sight of your bare tits without shame. You kiss him again as your hands run under his sweatshirt, groping at his bare skin as he guides the offending fabric up and away, tossing it somewhere to be forgotten. He takes your face in his hands and presses his chest against yours, sighing into your mouth at the feel of your bodies so close, without anything between them. He's warm, his chest broad and firm, his arms forming a protective brace around you. Something so salacious as preparing for sex with your roommate has no right feeling as loving as this does.

"Stand up," Eddie instructs.

You climb off the mattress, giggling as he takes you by the hips and positions you between his legs. He kisses the space between your breasts, his breath fanning delicately over your skin as he eases your sweatpants down your legs, fingers teasing your exposed thighs. Your first instinct is to be embarrassed - you haven't shaved in well over two weeks, and you're afraid he'll be put off by it. But he's unfazed, too enamored with you to really care. His eyes graze over your body with lovelorn grace, still very much under the influence of the drugs, but clear enough to remain totally tuned in to you.

"Undress me."

He stands so he's towering over you, snaring you in another kiss before you make your way downward, trailing your lips languidly over his torso until you're kneeling before him; you pause on your way to kitten lick his nipple, and the sharp intake of his breath at the tease thrills you.

You don't bother taking your time with his sweats, unraveling the drawstring with expert precision and letting them fall, immediately grasping at the base of his cock. It's a pretty thing, long and perfectly thick, the tip poking out handsomely from the hood of his uncut foreskin. You stroke at him gently, grinning up at him with your lip between your teeth.

"You're as perverted as I am, aren't you, sweet little thing?" Eddie chuckles. You don't miss the way he twitches in your palm.

"I learned from the best," you reply with a wink.

His grin doesn't disappear as you run your tongue up the underside of his head, tasting the salt of precum as you gently suckle at the tip. He breathes an airy moan, his hand falling to the nape of your neck.

"Just let me fuck you, baby," he pleads. "I'll use your mouth another time."

You raise yourself up, unable to stop yourself from taking him in for another kiss. He's addicting, the feel of his lips twined with yours almost, if not as good as the sex you've been aching to have with him.

Eddie's hands don't leave your waist as you crawl back on to his mattress, bending down on your elbows and knees and arching your back in a display of catlike sensuality. He's quick to fall behind you, smoothing his palm down the curve of your back before bringing it with a sharp smack down on your ass cheek. You yelp, already dripping through the petals of your pussy in anticipation of his cock.

He runs two fingers through your slick, feeling you out; in the floor length mirror beside his window, you watch him raise those fingers to his lips and suck them clean.

"So sweet," he drawls. "I can't wait to make you cum with my tongue."

"I've never been eaten out before," you mention, catching his eyes in the mirror. They've got a mischievous gleam, not leaving yours as he runs the head of his cock up and down the length of your opening.

"You'll never want anyone else between your thighs once I'm done with you," he promises.

He dips himself inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden rush of pain that always comes with the first breach of your walls. Your face scrunches, fingers gripping at his sheets as he takes hold of your hips, gently and carefully easing you onto him.

"It hurt?" he questions. The concern in his voice is obvious, and it makes you want for him even more.

"Only for a moment," you assure him. He gives a little nod, pulling out slightly before slipping back in, his cock stroking against you and relaxing your muscles. You breathe out a sigh, the pain fading into delicious fullness.

"Fuck, Eddie," you gasp. "Why didn't you mention you have the dick of a porn star?"

He chuckles, giving you another playful spank as he bottoms out, his head just kissing your cervix.

"Same reason you never mentioned your pussy was so perfectly deep and tight, I guess."

He grips you by the waist and starts to fuck, moaning as he sets a steady pace so you can both savor the feeling of each other. You stretch your torso out on his mattress, curling your body so he's hitting you right at your deepest point, an angle that has him groaning and mewling the way you're all too familiar with.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good for me," he praises. "Taking my cock into that sweet little pussy..."

He brings his hand down once again, causing you to moan with the pleasurable sting of his palm against your skin. He continues to spank, thrusting in time with each hit until your cheeks are rosy and tender with the imprint of his palm. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth as he picks up his pace, eyes closing as you smile with bliss.

"Oh, that's my good girl," he growls. "Loving the way daddy uses her as his little fuck toy."

One of his hands raises to curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound ruthlessly into you, your legs shaking as the sensation of him filling you reaches high into your stomach.

"You're so good baby... so good... mmmm, fuck, shit, heck, you feel incredible on my cock... Fuuuuuuuck, baby... Fuck...!"

You giggle at his intonations, mewling sweetly as his hips snap against yours, the sound of your thighs slapping together echoing off the walls. You can hear your sticky wetness clinging to his shaft, a harmony to back the loud groans he releases every time he thrusts.

"Right there, Eddie..." you coax. "Fuck, babe, right there... Make me cum..."

He guides your body forward, laying you flush against the blankets as he positions his body prone above yours, his arm wrapping around your neck to steady you. He doesn't stop railing into you, panting heavily in your ear, the thin plastic of the ever-present guitar pick around his neck bobbing against your back. You roll your hips into his, meeting his thrusts, and he lets out sound so sweet you think he might actually be crying.

"Oh, god, sugar, yes..." he snarls. "Keep fucking yourself on my cock... fuck, fuck, yeah, just like that... oh, love, you feel so fucking good..."

His relentless pace has built up a knot in your abdomen, one that releases with an explosion throughout your entire body. You cry out in ecstasy, your limbs fizzling with the shock of your orgasm, your toes curling as you ride the wave of indescribable pleasure out for its impossible length. As soon as Eddie feels you tighten around him, he clenches the base of his cock, staving away his own release as he fucks you through to the end. Once you relax, he gingerly unsheathes himself; you roll so you're facing him, repositioning yourself with bended knees so you can curl your fingers around the handsome appendage and stroke him, savoring his enamored cries as he cums onto your stomach and breasts. His breathing is ragged as the thick, pearly strings of semen cease to erupt from his slit. He collapses onto the mattress beside you with a satisfied huff.

For a few minutes, all you do is lay beside each other, filling each other's space while your breathing regains its normal rhythm and your bodies come back to themselves. Eventually, Eddie gets up and disappears, returning with the pack of baby wipes you keep in your room. He cleans you off, removing every trace of the depravity you've shared and kissing your stomach once you're pure again. He wipes himself off as well, pitching both the used cloths and the ash left in your burner into the little trash can beside his nightstand. The incense has long since burnt out.

Eddie crawls back into bed with you, lifting the blankets over you both and slipping between them, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. You're laying with your heads on the foot of his bed, but that hardly matters; he's actually holding you, close and tight and with his face buried in your hair. It's such a small thing, but you've never been treated with this much tenderness before.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He can read you like a book and it makes you want to cry.

"... You're just being really good to me," you whisper. "You're not... You're not done with me."

"Of course not," he murmurs. He brushes a few stray wisps away from your face, clearing a space for his lips to press a light kiss into your temple. "If I just wanted you for sex I'd have made a move a long time ago. I... I kind of feel things for you. Like... a lot of things."

You turn to face him, hugging him close and hiding your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, his fingers making a delicate trail down the length of your spine.

"Thank you for putting up with me," you say. "And for driving me to the hospital that time my contact high gave me a panic attack."

Eddie chuckles, giving your love handle an affectionate squeeze.

"Any time, pumpkin. That's still the best date I've ever had."

You smile, letting out a breathy laugh into his skin.

Over the next couple weeks, Eddie slowly migrates his things into your room, making a habit of sharing a bed even when you're not having sex. His old room becomes a studio, and the other members of Corroded Coffin are excited when he tells them they finally have their own recording space. They're sprawled out on the floor, sharing a joint in celebration when the new setup finally dawns on Jeff.

"Did your roommate move out?" he inquires.

"Not really," Eddie responds with a shrug. "More like I moved in."

Jeff and Gareth share a skeptical look. As if on cue, you appear in the doorway, wearing a pair of Eddie's boxers and tossing him a pack of basil-scented incense, which he catches without so much as a flinch.

"Put it out, please," you request. "I'm starting to get jitters."

"Yes, dear. Our apologies."

He flashes you a giddy, awestruck smile as he reaches for the ashtray. He then blows you an exaggerated kiss, to which you just roll your eyes and grin.

"You're a fucking dork," you tell him.

"Love you too, angel babe."

💀🌹 masterlist 🌹💀

#muerta's works #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #fluffy smut #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

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atomtanned · 7 months

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🌹 atomtanned's Trait-Based Chemistry

I've used @lilbabydilljr's Turn-Ons & Turn-Offs for a while now, and I love that he added in 3t2 traits when calculating chemistry. I wanted to tweak it for my game, and I finally learned how to do so. This is a heavily-modified version of his mod, so most of the credit goes to him - I just added/removed traits and changed some images and text strings.

Like any mod that involves traits, this requires @hexagonal-bipyramid's Easy Inventory Check.

This is definitely the most involved BHAV editing I've done yet, so please let me know if you find any errors, as it's a bit hard to test in game.

UPDATE: If you use Clean UI (or any other UI mod that uses Clean UI as a base) this mod will need to load after. Or you can delete the turn-on images that are included with that mod.

UPDATE 2: @cityof2morrow let me know that this mod (and I believe any other custom turnon/turnoff mods) also conflict with NickM406's No More Loading the * Family mod. Thank you!!

✨ DOWNLOAD: SFS / PATREON / MF

I've included the full list of turn-ons/turn-offs below the Read More link. The original names of Dill's Turn-Ons are in parentheses where applicable. Please note that this list uses the original TS3 trait names for clarity, but there's recommendations for changed trait names below as well.

Adventurous: 3 vacations, Adventurous, Daredevil, Sailor

Alien: Trait, skin, eyes

Animal Lover: 2 pet friends, Animal Lover, Cat Person, Dog Person, Equestrian

Artistic: Artistic, Avant Garde, Photographer's Eye, Savvy Sculptor, Flower Arranging/Pottery/Sewing badge, Arts & Crafts hobby, Creative skill

Athletic: Athletic, Equestrian, Loves to Swim, Sports/Fitness hobby, Body skill

Charismatic: Born Salesperson, Charismatic, Flirty, Irresistible, Schmoozer, Star Quality, Charisma skill

Cultured (Bookish): Avant Garde, Bookworm, Film & Literature Hobby

Daydreamer (Dumb): Absent-Minded, Neurotic, Socially Awkward, Unstable, < 2 Logic Skill

Fitness/Fatness: no change from Maxis game behavior

Foodie: Natural Cook, Cuisine hobby, Cooking skill

Indoorsy (Gamer): Bookworm, Computer Whiz, Couch Potato, Hates the Outdoors, Film & Literature Hobby, Games Hobby

Infamous (Bad Rep): Negative Reputation, Evil, Mean-Spirited

Intellectual (Smart): Bookworm, Genius, Logic Skill

Laid Back (Slacker): Couch Potato, Mooch, Slob, Personality

Mechanical: Servo, Bot Fan, Computer Whiz, Handy, Vehicle Enthusiast, Robotics Badge, Tinkering hobby, Mechanical skill

Musical: Natural Born Performer, Star Quality, Virtuoso, Music & Dance hobby, Dance skill, Creativity skill

Occult: Werewolf, Plantsim, Bigfoot, Witch, Fairy, Mermaid

Outdoorsy: Angler, Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors, Sailor, Gardening badge, Fishing badge, Nature hobby

Outgoing (Indoorsy): Friendly, Natural Born Performer, Party Animal, Social Butterfly

Plant Lover: Eco-Friendly, Gatherer, Green Thumb, Vegetarian, Flower/Gardening badge, Plantsim, Fairy

Rebellious (Baddie): Daredevil, Inappropriate, Kleptomaniac, Party Animal, Rebellious

Reserved (Timid): Disciplined, Loner, Proper, Shy, Unflirty, Personality

Serious (Productive): Brooding, Disciplined, Frugal, No Sense of Humor, Perfectionist, Workaholic

Stylish: Avant Garde, Diva, Irresistible, Cosmetology badge, Fashion interest

Tidy (Neat Freak): Neat, Cleaning skill, Personality

Undead: Ghost, Vampire, Zombie

Unique (Magic): Avant Garde, Childish, Eccentric, Insane, Loser

Well-Liked (Good Rep): Good reputation, Friendly, Good, Good Sense of Humor

I use updated trait names/descriptions for several traits, mostly to be more positive or less ableist, and those are what I had in mind when I made the chemistry changes above. A few I made myself, so those are included in the RAR in a separate folder, and I recommend getting the ones linked below too:

Childish > Young at Heart

Commitment Issues > Noncommittal (@equinoxts2)

Evil > Devious (@equinoxts2)

Good > Kind

Insane > Erratic (@dreadpirate)

Kleptomaniac > Sticky Fingers

Loser > Underdog

Neurotic > Anxious

Unstable > Indecisive (@equinoxts2)

#s2cc #ts2cc #dl: mods #atomtanned.package #ts2 mods #ts2 cc #sims 2

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arminreindl · 3 days

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The NEW Ultrastenos and its Ironic History

So those that have been keeping up with my posts on mekosuchines might recall the name Ultrastenos, as I've talked about this genus back in August of last year. If you've read that post you might also remember how I highlight at multiple points that a lot of the info was tentative on the basis that Ultrastenos was highly incomplete and that close relatives awaited description.

You may also remember "Baru" huberi, a small mekosuchine that lived roughly around the same time, clearly distinct from Baru yet at that point still unnamed. Oh, how I wished for the former to get more material and for the latter to recieve a proper genus assignment.

My now outdated reconstructions for "Baru" huberi (the small one in the left image) and Ultrastenos (right image)

And then the monkey's paw curled.

As it turns out....they are the same damn animal. Now, back when "Baru" huberi was described, Willis also named a bunch of other mekosuchines from the same locality (the White Hunter Site of the Riversleigh WHA) and described even more material that remained unnamed, including the White Hunter Cranial Form 1. Now, when Ultrastenos was named in 2016, the type material was from the Low Lion Site (also Riversleigh), but importantly, the skull tables identified as WHCF1 were also assigned to the genus (and were the basis for my reconstruction).

Well, re-examination has shown that the WHCF1 and the holotype of "Baru" huberi aren't just a single species.....THEY ARE A SINGLE INDIVIDUAL.

Given the fact that the assignment of the skull table to the Low Lion Ultrastenos material still holds up, this means that Ultrastenos willisi and "Baru" huberi are a single taxon. Which consequently requires some reshuffling of the names.

"Baru" huberi was named first, so the species name takes priority and continues being used. However, since it was never given a genus name, Ultrastenos does stay valid. Except now it's called Ultrastenos huberi, not Ultrastenos willisi. A name that has aged like milk. Back in 2016 it was proposed that Ultrastenos had a very narrow snout (thus the name), so now that we know that the rostrum was flat and mesorostrine, the name really is just wrong.

So next up, lets examine what went wrong.

As I said before, Ultrastenos was fragmentary, so that certainly played a big part in it. But the team in charge of describing the animal still cited several lines of thinking to support their interpretation, most of which are now thoroughly debunked.

As an example, the lower jaw was rather shallow, however while this was initially taken as evidence for longirostry, the 2024 paper states that this only an argument against altirostry (a deep skull), not against a more generalized condition. The teeth were also initially used as evidence, citing their homodont condition (the teeth looked uniform), HOWEVER, the problem in that was that there were only a few teeth present, all of which notably do not bear any resemblance to the needle-like teeth seen in other long-snouted taxa. Another important clue initially taken to mean longirostry was the orientation of the quadrate area and the seemingly sudden constriction of the lower jaw. But the quadrate area was not found in articulation and would support a generalized skull form if simply rotated a little, while the constriction of the mandible appears to at least be partially exaggerated by preservation.

Of course, the fact that we now have proper material of the snout makes the interpretation of a generalized skull shape a lot more solid.

Image 1: The left and right halves of the mandible of Ultrastenos compared to that of Baru iylwenpeny (D), note how the right half is a lot more straight. Image 2: The initial reconstruction of the quadrate area of Ultrastenos compared to one that is slightly rotated Image 3: The revamped skull reconstruction by Yates and Stein

The size of the animal does stay relatively unaffected by these new discoveries. "Baru" huberi has been estimated at only around 1.5 meters in length and my own scaling of Ultrastenos got up to 2 meters, which seems to be in line with what is still assumed for this animal. So among aquatic mekosuchines, its still rather small.

There are however some interesting implications for mekosuchines at large. Now that we no longer have a longirostrine member of this family, one has to wonder, why is that? Well, there might be several reasons.

It could be that the types of environments that were present in Cenozoic Australia simply didn't support such animals. Even in the type description, its been noted that the Riversleigh isn't exactly known for its fish remains, leading to the idea that Ultrastenos might have gone for other small vertebrates like frogs. Hell, the ecology of Baru might suggest that the reason that this genus was so robust might tie to the fact that the local bodies of water just weren't deep enough to allow the typical crocodilian grab-and-drown tactic.

Competition might have been another factor. In environments that may have been more suitable for such morphology, mekosuchines might have been beaten to the punch by other types of crocodilians. Harpacochampsa for example, tho originally thought to be a mekosuchine, is now more often regarded as either an unrelated crocodile or a gharial and its very possible that it filling the nische of a longirostrine simply meant that mekosuchines didn't have the opportunity to expand into that space. Same goes for Gunggamarandu in the Pliocene and Pleistocene and Freshwater Crocodiles from the Pleistocene onwards. (Tho it should be noted that both Harpacochampsa and Gunggamarandu are so fragmentary that their snout shape is technically unknown).

Images: Gunggamarandu (Eleanor Pease), Harpacochampsa (ArtbyJRC) and Freshies (Antoni Camozzato) might have been key factors in why mekosuchines never evolved slender snouts.

Finally, its also possible that something in the growth of mekosuchines simply prevents them from evolving longirostrine skulls, which Yates and Stein liken to alligatoroids (notably the closest alligatoroids got to traditional longirostry as seen in gharials is the Rio Apaporis Caiman, and even that one is closer to some extant crocodiles in its morphology).

Whatever the case, I for one mourn the loss of our long-snouted Ultrastenos. Tho as a note for any paleoartists, there is not a single illustration of this new interpretation since nobody ever drew "Baru" huberi either. Wink wink nudge nudge

Links:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultrasteno

Ultrastenos revised (palaeo-electronica.org)

#long post #harpacochampsa #ultrastenos #baru huberi #mekosuchinae #gunggamarandu #oligocene #riversleigh #paleontology #palaeoblr #croc #crocodile #crocodilia #prehistory #cenozoic

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rpschtuff · 1 year

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Beta Editor Overview

This post was originally made on January 7, 2023, and was last updated on January 14, 2023.

After seeing quite a few posts expressing confusion/frustration over the beta editor, trying to understand new features and find where old options have moved to, I thought I'd write up an overview of the new editor, showing the various changes it has from legacy.

My main goal is to show people that the new editor not nearly as bad as they may have heard. You'll have a few days of weirdness and confusion, and then you'll be used to it. The beta editor does have some bugs... but so does the legacy editor. We've all just gotten used to legacy and know how to work around its quirks. After a couple weeks with beta, you'll be familiar with it and know how to do the same.

FAQ

I'm putting this part above the read more to quickly answer the questions I see asked most often.

How do I cut posts with the new editor? — You need to get an extension called XKit Rewritten and use Trim Reblogs. Once you have that installed, save the post to your drafts and click the scissors icon along the bottom of the post. This will open a window that allows you to remove earlier reblogs. If you run into funky issues, see my ginormous post here.

Where is blockquote? — Blockquote is now called indented. There are two ways to reach it. Option 1: select your text, open the dropdown menu, and choose indented. Option 2: type / on an empty line, select indented, and type your text.

Where is small text? — Select your text and click the small S in brackets. I recommend doing this at the end of writing your post, as it can be finicky otherwise. The old keyboard shortcut for small text does not work anymore; the new shortcut is CTRL/CMD + COMMA.

Where are bullets? — Select your text, open the dropdown menu, and choose bulleted list. You can also type / on an empty line and select/type bulleted list. Additionally, you can type * and a space on an empty line to autoformat to bullets, or use the keyboard shortcut CTRL/CMD + SHIFT + 8.

How do I disable reblogs on a post? — Click the settings icon in the top right, click the dropdown next to "Who can reblog?" and select "no one." (Please note that while it says those mentioned in a post can always reblog, I've found this to be broken. At the moment you should only disable reblogs if you don't want anyone reblogging it.)

Why does adding a gif to a post include the URL? — Inserting an image via link will automatically include that URL underneath the image in the final post (though it won't display in the editor). You can remove this by hovering over the image and clicking the chain link icon in the bottom left. Select the URL in the field there, delete it, and click Done.

How do I add alt text to an image? — Add your image, hover over it, click the three dots in the bottom right corner, and click "update image description."

Adding Elements

When you click on an empty line, options for things to add to your post will appear on the right, similar to legacy.

In order, these are:

Image

Gif search

Link

Audio

Video

All of these work almost exactly as they have previously, except for adding an image. Clicking that will give you this, which resembles a standalone photo post of the old format.

You can then upload directly from your computer, or paste a URL, as before. If you insert an image via URL, that link will be visible just below the image in your final post, though it won't show up like that in the editor. It'll look like this.

If you don't want this, make sure to click the link icon at the bottom left of the image and delete the URL there.

Back to the image you added in the text editor! Hovering over the image will give these options.

The squares icon in the top left lets you click and drag the image, and you can drag images next to each other to stack them horizontally. The X in the top right will remove the image from your post. The link icon in the bottom left shows the image URL, and will only appear if you inserted the image via link. And the dots in the bottom right allow you to add alt text to your image -- click the dots, then click Update image description.

Formatting Text

Now! If you type up some text and then select it, formatting options will pop up. This is similar to legacy, but now there's a dropdown menu.

Here's what's in the dropdown.

Here's what they all look like in a post.

Regular is plain text. Bigger is the equivalent of the headline option on the legacy editor. Biggest is the equivalent of the main title, but you can have more than one in a single post now.

Quote turns text into a serif font and increases the font size. If you type up a long quote, the font size will shrink.

Chat switches to a more computer-looking font.

Lucille increases the font size and is a cursive font.

Indented is blockquote. It looks a tiny bit different on the dash now, with some more spacing on the top and bottom, but it's functionally the same.

Bulleted and numbered lists are self-explanatory. You can also start a bulleted list by starting an empty line of regular text with * and a space, and a numbered line by starting an empty line with 1 and a space. Additionally, the keyboard shortcuts CTRL/CMD + SHIFT + 7 for numbered list and CTRL/CMD + SHIFT + 8 for bulleted list still work.

You can also access these same options (and some others) by typing a slash onto the start of an empty line. A menu will pop up, allowing you to either click the one you want or simply type the one you want and hit enter.

If you want to quickly add a title, an indented blockquote, or anything like that, this is the fastest way to do it.

Hopping back to the rest of these options now!

To the right of the drop down, these options are:

Strikethrough

Bold

Italics

Small

Link

Color

Most of these are self-explanatory. Keyboard shortcuts for bold and italics work as before. The old keyboard shortcut for small text no longer works, but CTRL/CMD + COMMA does.

Link works the same as it always has, and the keyboard shortcut of CTRL/CMD + K works as well. Additionally, if you have text selected and just paste in a URL, it will insert as a hyperlink from that selected text.

Color lets you change the color of your text to a few presets. Just click the paint bucket, and pick the color you want.

Post Settings

Back out to the main editor now, here's what under the settings icon in the top right.

Custom URL lets you set a custom URL for your post, if you want it to be something other than a string of numbers.

Content source is the source link and works similarly to how it did in legacy.

Post date is not the scheduler! That's under the post button dropdown and is fairly straightforward. But this option lets you backdate a post, setting the date to sometime earlier than you actually made. Gonna be completely honest, I haven't used this at all and don't entirely see the point, but if you want to play around with it, there it is.

Who can reblog? Is one of my favorite features. Opening that dropdown lets you disable reblogs on your post. The reblog button will be grayed out on the dash. (After you've made the post, you can edit to turn reblogs back on if you need to.)

While this does say that anyone mentioned can always reblog, I've found this to be broken in my testing -- I have submitted a ticket to staff, so hopefully they're working on it. It would be a godsend for roleplayers, since it would restrict reblogs to only the partner that you @-mentioned in your starter and keep randos from reblogging your threads.

Lastly, the text editor lets you switch to HTML or Markdown for your post, if you prefer one of those. They are similar to how they worked in legacy.

Community Labels

Along the bottom of the editor, you'll see the close button, the post button with the same dropdown as in legacy, and another dropdown that reads Everyone by default. Here's what that one looks like.

This is where you can manage your community labels, which is a fairly new feature from Tumblr. By default, your post will be marked as being for everyone. However, if your post contains any of the content listed, you should click to toggle that one on. This will hide your post from anyone who has that label switched off in their settings.

To check what you have on or off in your settings, look for this underneath your filtered tags:

Tags

Tags work the same as before. The only notable difference is that you can now edit inside tags without having to completely delete them. Just click on the text where you want your cursor to be.

You can rearrange tags with click and drag as before. Just be sure to click on the blue space around the text, rather than on the text itself.

Autosaving

The beta editor will automatically save your posts! It's autosaving whenever you see this pop up at the bottom of your screen, every minute or so.

If the editor gets closed unexpectedly, the last autosave of your post will go into your drafts. As someone who's lost many replies to unexpected tab closures, this is a godsend.

Just know that this only works if something external closes the editor. If you click the close button yourself, the post will disappear.

Miscellaneous Differences

You can now have more than one main title (Biggest) in your post.

You can no longer have multiple levels of bullet points.

You can no longer have paragraph breaks within your blockquote/indented text (though it's been that way for a while). To get a similar look in your blockquote, hold down shift and press enter twice (or use <br><br> in your HTML).

Previewing a post on your blog is still possible, but in a different location. Go to a post in your drafts, click the three dots in the top right, and click preview.

The editor will still remember your tags, but capitalization will be removed, which might be an aesthetic annoyance.

The editor will only suggest tags that start with your search. For example, if your ask memes tag is send me stuff ( ask memes ) — typing "send me stuff" in the tags box will suggest this tag for you, while typing "ask memes" will not.

When making or reblogging a post, your most recently used sideblog will be up by default; this is different from the legacy editor, which would always open your primary blog. Be mindful of things going onto the correct blogs!

More items may be added here as I spot them. Feel free to send any observations of your own if you have them.

Known Glitches

Because the beta editor is still known to be buggy, I thought I'd document the glitches I am aware of. I have reported these to staff using their feedback option and highly recommend that you politely do the same if these annoy you.

I've heard from several people that using CTRL/CMD + Z to undo caused their entire post to be erased. This has not personally happened to me, but I've heard it enough times that I feel I should share it here.

Using CTRL/CMD + A to select your entire post can be finicky. Clicking and dragging across the entire post is more reliable.

Typing with small text can be finicky and won't always apply correctly. I highly recommend applying the small text after everything is written, just to save some headache.

Generally, text formatting and paragraph blocks can behave oddly, especially when trying to select more than one. This is also a problem I've had with the legacy editor, but my experiences are not universal, so it may be a hindrance to you.

Customizing Beta/NPF Elements on your Theme

This is only for those of you who want to know how to change the way certain new beta elements look on their blog theme. If that's not you, you can stop reading here!

These are the elements and classes you want to customize in your CSS:

BIGGER - h2

BIGGEST - h1

QUOTE - .npf_quote

CHAT - .npf_chat

LUCILLE - .npf_quirky

RED TEXT - .npf_color_joey

ORANGE TEXT - .npf_color_monica

PURPLE TEXT - .npf_color_chandler

YELLOW TEXT - .npf_color_phoebe

BLUE TEXT - .npf_color_ross

PINK TEXT - .npf_color_niles

Colored text that isn't one of the default colors from Tumblr will just use <span> to assign a custom hex code, and can usually be targeted that way. You may need to use the !important property to override some of these default styles.

#beta editor #beta text editor #rpc #rpt #rph #*my stuff #*my tutorials #i seem to have branded myself the Beta Editor Gal at the moment so. leaning into it. here ya go

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notfreetoday · 8 months

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MPW Ep 3 Subtitle Corrections

EP 1 || EP 2 Cultural/Language Tidbits: EP 2

Same translation disclaimer applies. Thanks again for indulging my crazy long t/n, please keep geeking out with me in the notes!

We've got a change of director this episode - to Funabiki Shinju (twitter linked here) who was the scriptwriter for Jack Frost. This date is also a drama-only episode and does not appear in the manga. So, we have quite a few ad-libs here! I'll point out these out, as well as any interesting comments by the director and the producer from the Ep 3 twitter space as we go on. (Due to tumblr's image space limitations, some of these scenes will have no pics, just a description)

Ep 3, let's go! (If you read nothing in this post, please just read Yoh's monologue)

Since this is the theme of this episode, and Yoh's favourite word, let's talk a little more about it. I've mentioned it previously, but both "嫌い (kirai)" and "大嫌い (dai kirai)" are often translated as "hate/really hate", when they really function more as the opposite of "(suki)", ie "to like". That said, the amount of emotional weight this word carries depends on the context. It can accurately convey the pain/anger of hating someone, but it can also be used very mildly. For eg, it's often used by kids in the "I hate homework/vegetables/the rain/etc" form, or by teens/young adults in the "I don't want everyone to hate me" form, as opposed to other synonyms. When introducing yourself/getting to know someone, it's not uncommon to be asked "what are your suki/kirai?"

In other words, overuse of this word can actually come off as slightly childish, because kids/young people are usually the ones using this word to reject small things/express themselves. Yoh's constant insistence that he hates Segasaki pretty much sounds like this - which is why Man-san expresses doubt about it, and why when Segasaki repeats this line back to Yoh, Yoh understands that Segasaki is teasing him. (The word "love" is considered too heavy and precious of a concept to be thrown around easily, so "suki" is the default go to even in committed relationships.)

Y: 相変わらずすごいよ、この人の外面モード。 Y: As always, this person's "public mode" is amazing.

"外面 (soto zura)" literally refers to the "outside face", and when used to describe a person means someone who puts up a certain personality/attitude depending on who they're speaking to/the situation.

The reason Yoh's saying this is because Segasaki is speaking to him in a much nicer way than he usually does at home 🤣He's using plain forms yes, but he's also praising him and smiling at him and actually saying a whole, proper sentence as opposed to the one-word sickness he has at home🤣 This is most obvious right before Segasaki leaves, when he warns Yoh to be careful when drawing other people - he says "気をつけてね~ (ki o tsukete ne~)", ending with a ne~ which is sweet and cute and which he almost never does with Yoh at home 🤣🤣

Twitter Space Note (TSN): They decided that since they finally got to shoot an "outdoor scene" for Yoh, they'd try to make him look a little more fashionable with a shirt instead of a hoodie 🤣

Y: いってらっしゃい Y: Itterasshai - this is a standard greeting that you say when someone is leaving the house (or the office, if they're going out on a business errand). Basically, the one leaving says "ittekimasu" and the one staying behind says "itterasshai". They mean "(I'll) go and come back/Go safely and return well" When returning, you say "tadaima" and the one welcoming you back says "okaerinasai" meaning: "(I have) just now (returned)/ (you have) returned safely". Unlike Yoh, Segasaki does none of these standard greetings (which Yoh complained about in Ep 1 whilst chopping onions).

Y: だからね、気持ちが通じ合った*っていう描写が必要だと思うんだよおれは Y: だからこそ、体が盛り上がる**、的な？ M: はーん。中高生処女みたいなこといってろ Original: Y: That's why I think it's necessary to depict the feeling of "mutual understanding" Y: That's how the physical aspect also gets exciting... or something like that? M: Hmm.. talking about it like a high school virgin, huh? Mine: Y: So that's why, I think it's important - showing that (the characters') have this unspoken understanding* of each other's feelings. Y: It's precisely because of that, that you get physically excited** - something like that? M: Mm.... you're saying things a high-school virgin would say **体が盛り上がる - literally, "the body gets excited/heated up/lively etc" - given that they are talking about erotica, he probably means physically aroused here, but this term also works to explain the feeling of excitement or emotion just swelling in your chest for eg *通じ合った - is not just "mutual understanding" - it specifically refers to a situation in which both parties understand each other without having to say a word - like when you look at someone and just get them, or like in sports, you just look at your team mate and you know.

This is an important distinction because in this line, Yoh again emphasizes "I" - at the end of the sentence he ends off with the pronoun "俺 (ore)" marked by the subject particle "は (wa)" - which means that in this sentence Yoh is emphasizing that this is his opinion - that he himself thinks it's important to show that 2 people simply get each other, because that's exactly what translates to that sensation you feel in your body. This is what Yoh wants - he wants to understand Segasaki, and he wants Segasaki to understand him, without them having to actually say anything. Which at the moment, only Segasaki is achieving, ironically.

[ Man-san's dialogue, where she says "a sex scene follows]

TSN: Man-san actually only says “se-“ here, and then mutes herself (because they’re in public). In the script, it was supposed to be the full “sex” word, but they weren't sure whether it would be ok (it's not clear whether they mean ok for the actress to say this or ok for the show in general) so in the end it became "se-". Yes it's an odd place to be concerned about given the whole Ep2 but #Japan

Again, the word here used is “kirai” but translated as “dislike” instead of hate 😉

TSN: Between this scene and the start of the next scene, they praised how Acchan uses his eyes to convey Yoh's dejection and how he expresses Yoh's emotions very sensitively through his gaze (and I agree!)

TSN: The director mentioned that she had thought it would look good if Segasaki to put his hand up like this on the ceiling partition, but the moment Kouhei walked in, he just did it naturally without her having to say anything, and so she was really amazed.

S: じゃ、出かけるぞ (Jya, dekakeru zo) S: Then, we’re going out.

“Let’s go out” would be more of "じゃ、でかけましょう (Jya, dekakemashou)" – by using the ending form “(-ma)shou”, the listener is included in the action of going out as an equal to the speaker, the same way “let’s” is used in English. It is by far the most common way Japanese people make a statement without trying to sound too overbearing. But here, Segasaki once again demonstrates his habit of simply stating what they’re going to do, and speaking for Yoh. The sentence-final particle “zo” at the end of his sentence is an assertive one that doesn’t leave much room for argument.

TSN: Again they talked about how they emphasised to Acchan to do the housework improperly, since Yoh isn't supposed to be good at it. Also, when Yoh thinks, "what's with this, all of a sudden?", the director asked that he move his hands "more" as he folded the clothes, like he was still happy to be asked out.

Y: デート自体ないんだよ Y: I’ve never even been on a date.

Y: 俺、いま一体何してんだろう Y: What am I even doing right now?

Yoh’s not wondering what they’re doing, he’s questioning his own actions, like "why am I even here, doing this, what am I supposed to do" etc, because you know, he's never even been on a date before and he has no clue whether this actually is one.

[The scene with the 2 of them on the bench, and Segasaki asks Yoh what he'd like to eat]

TSN: The script only went up to Yoh answering that he wanted to eat “Chinese food”, and this whole bit afterward just happened naturally when they let the camera run.

Yoh says “たっか(taka)!” which is short for “高い(takai)” aka “expensive!” but his voice is so cute here I’m dying. (It really is bloody expensive, these things are usually anywhere between 180 yen – 300 yen pre-pandemic. Even with the big one they have here, I don’t think anyone would sell this above 500 yen)

TSN: They said they searched for a 1200 yen steamed pork bun but couldn’t find one, and in actuality the store sells them at a really reasonable price, so to please go give it a try 🤣🤣

[The scene of them walking and sharing the chicken cutlet]

TSN: This scene, as well as them walking along they alley way looking at the shops, was mostly ad-libbed (which is probably why we see Acchan smiling so much here hahaha I’m guessing the question about which he liked better was probably an adlib, which surprised Acchan). For the alleyway, they were told that their conversation was not going to be used, so they were quite relaxed (and that explains the audio fade out lol)

[The scene of them drinking Boba/Bubble Tea]

About Gyaru - when Boba/Bubble Tea first came to Japan, it became pretty popular amongst Gyaru, and quickly became associated with Gyaru culture - hence why they both felt it was something only Gyaru drank. It's similar to the idea that only ladies eat sweets/desserts that was briefly mentioned in OFC (which makes Nozue feel awkward about 2 men eating cake in a dessert cafe) - here they mean they both felt too embarrassed to try Boba out before due to the idea that it's a "Gyaru" drink (and I love how Yoh looks at Segasaki then, like he only just realises that even Segasaki might get embarrassed/feel awkward sometimes).

S: 乗るぞ (noru zo)

Again, this is “we’re riding it” instead of “let’s”.

Y: 思ったよりすごく透明で Y: (The cabin) is more transparent than I thought

The floor of the cabin is actually clear, so you can see right down through to the bottom, which is why Yoh is a little freaked out here. Not because he thought glass wasn’t transparent.

TSN: Acchan is also afraid of heights, so the stiffness you see here is real, he really didn’t like it, but they went 4 rounds in total to finish this scene. (Kouhei apparently was fine and enjoyed looking right through the glass, though I can’t remember which interview this was mentioned in, sorry!)

S: ほら S: See?

ほら (hora) is commonly used to draw the listener’s attention to something, so here Segasaki really just means “look (I was right)”

TSN: They apparently redid the scene where Segasaki dismisses the store attendant many times so they could make sure it was done in a way that looked natural and wouldn’t be off-putting.

We’re back to one of Segasaki’s humming sounds – the “hmm…?” here again conveys the “oh, really/is that so?” sort of lazy drawl that can easily be mistaken as Segasaki being bored – which is why Yoh immediately suggests they go do their own thing.

Y: そっちも、好きなところいっていいから Y: You too, it’s okay (if you go) to the places you like so…

Yoh uses “そっち” here to refer to Segasaki - which literally means “your/that side” and is another way in which Yoh avoids addressing Segasaki directly (remember, in Japan we don’t like being direct, and “you” is sometimes too direct).

Fun fact: Depending on which part of Japan you’re in, this can either be seen as a totally normal way of speaking, or it might annoy you a little to be referred to as if you were an object/place, or you might feel like the speaker was treating you a little like an “outsider”. The divide in opinion seems to be somewhere between the northeast regions, and the western regions. Tokyo and the rest of the Kantou region (where the show is based, judging by the lack of an obvious accent) are sort of 50-50.

Y: もしあれ*だったら、あ、あの、こっちはこっちで、好きにやってるし Original: Y: Ah, if you want to. Well… we’re both doing our own things… Mine: Y: If (you feel) that way*, then, ah, umm, I can… do as I like, by myself too...

*that way - this refers to that sort of awkward, uncomfortable feeling you get that is hard to describe when you’ve been put on the spot. So, this makes it clear that Yoh is offering Segasaki an “out” from this uncomfortable, weird position he thinks Segasaki is in.

Similar to his earlier sentence, Yoh refers to himself as “こっち (this side)”, and the phrase he uses pretty much means “I can entertain myself”. This is an example of kizukai – or at least, what Yoh thinks is kizukai - which is a concept where you do your best to think of the other person’s needs and wants, so you can anticipate what help they might need and so you don’t inadvertently inconvenience them. Ok, now get ready for some mental gymnastics:

From Yoh's POV, Segasaki wants to buy clothes, and has brought Yoh along to carry the bags. Therefore, Segasaki’s offer to buy him a shirt, and asking him if he is having fun, is Segasaki’s kizukai – Segasaki is going out of his way to make sure Yoh is taken care of. But! Yoh doesn’t want Segasaki to feel inconvenienced (similar to how in EP 2, Yoh said he doesn’t want Segasaki to dislike him), so he instead almost reflexively rejects Segasaki’s offer, then encourages Segasaki to go enjoy himself, and in response to Segasaki’s “Ha!?”, doubles down and says he’s totally ok by himself - This is Yoh’s kizukai.

Tired yet? This is a normal consideration in daily interactions! You can see why the phrase “yokei na kizukai (excessive/unwanted kizukai)” also exists in Japanese lolol 🤣

S: ああ。せっかくの休日に、大嫌いな俺*と一緒にいてのはたのしくない？ Original: S: Ah. So spending a day with someone you hate on your precious day off isn’t enjoyable? Mine: S: Ah. On your precious day off, being together with me – who you hate* – isn’t fun?

*“大嫌いな俺 (dai kirai na ore)” is literally “the ‘me’ that you hate”, or “me who is hated by you” - emphasis on "me", the person standing right in front of you.

Y: いや、それは…違。。。あ、その。。。 Y: No, that’s…not-…- ah.. um…

“A, so” again.

S: 五時にここ集合*な (goji ni koko shuugou *na) S: We’ll meet here at 5, *yea?

*Ending with “na” is softer than “zo” – this statement is still pretty much an order, as with his other statements that ended with “zo”, but it’s gentler, and softens the fact that he’s walking away from Yoh here.

TSN: Pretty much everyone was just going on and on about “oh, poor thing!” in response to Segasaki getting rejected and chased away, and how even though he’s sad here he’s still sweet and gentle with Yoh. Yes, that’s right, everyone loves Segasaki.

[The scene of Yoh spilling water on his shirt]

TSN: This was apparently pretty difficult to shoot in a way the camera could see the water spilling, but the wardrobe team came to the rescue with hairdryers so they could keep reshooting 🤣🤣

S: じゃ、帰んぞ (Jya, kaen zo) S: Then, we’re going back

“zo” is back! Sorry for being so pedantic about tiny things like this, but I do think it gives us insight into Segasaki's character and how he may be feeling.

This line is the most important correction in this post.

Y: 本当はさ、ずっと、ささいな表情とか、しぐさとか、俺が言うこと聞くとちょっと嬉しそうにするのとか、晴れの予報を告げる優しい声とか、全部バカみたいに俺ばっかり。毎日俺ばっかり心臓大暴れさせてるみたいで　嫌だった Y: むかつくとこ拾い集めて　大嫌いだって思ってないと　その気持ちの不釣り合いに　息ができなくなってしまいそうで嫌だった Y: 嫌いじゃない　嫌いじゃないよ Original: Y: Actually, all these times, your expressions, gestures, the way you look kind of happy when you listen to me, and your gentle voice forecasting good weather. All of them, make my heart beat as if it’s coming out. I don’t like it. Y: I gathered everything that annoyed me, thinking that if I didn’t, the imbalance of my feelings would suffocate me. I don’t like it. Y: I don’t hate you. I really don’t. Mine: Y: In truth, all this while, the little expressions you make, the gestures you do, the way you seem just that little bit happier when I listen to you, and the gentle voice with which you announce the sunny weather… All of that - like an idiot, it's just me who… It feels like it's just me whose heart has been made to pound and race wildly and - I didn't like that. Y: If I didn't gather up all the things that frustrated me and told myself "I hate this" then, the disparity (between us) in those feelings would suffocate me, making me feel like I could hardly breathe and - I didn't like that. Y: I don't hate you. I really don't hate you.

TSN: This was ad-libbed too. It just happened that the metal post was coming up in between them as they walked, and Acchan saw it and planned to go around it, because he felt that emotionally there was a gap forming between Yoh and Segasaki at this point. But right as he was about to do that, Kouhei grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him over, which Acchan was really surprised by, because they both had the same thought to ad-lib something about that post, and they both did it as their characters would do it, but it was the exact opposite action. The director said that when the 2 were walking back towards the start point they were both smiling a little, and then asked the director “how was that?” to which she replied “It’s really great!”, and then Acchan looked a little frustrated (in a sorta arrgh I got it wrong sort of way) whereas Kouhei was all “I was definitely right” (Acchan mentioned he was abit worried about the ad-lib, so I’m guessing they both were discussing as they walked back and finally decided to settle it by asking the director hahaha)

Y: すいません S: なにが Y: その。。。いろいろ S: だからなにが Original: Y: I’m sorry S: For what? Y: Well, for everything S: What do you mean? Mine: Y: I’m sorry S: About what? Y: That… for many things S: And (I said,), about what?

Yoh uses the formal "すいません (suimasen)" here, as opposed to his usual and more casual "gomen" or "gomen nasai", because this line is important to him, and he means it. "Sorry" in Japanese does not always carry the meaning of regret/remorse - it can be used to express gratitude as well. You''ll often here people say "Sorry that you had to (go through the trouble)" after they've accepted a gift, or "Sorry, I've caused you much trouble" as a way of thanking someone for their care. So, Yoh says "sorry" here after accepting Segasaki's gift, which could be seen as a thank you, but he also means he's sorry that he's like this, that he can't be honest/straightforward about his feelings (a theme that is brought up in Ep 4), that Segasaki has to care for him like this etc. "For many things" is a common way to encompass all of these mixed feelings, and yet not say them out directly.

Y: どうせ口じゃ、うまく言えないから Original: No matter what, I don’t dare say it Mine: Since I can't get the words out of my mouth properly anyway

S: よくできました (yoku dekimashita)

This is a formal way of saying “well done”, and if you did well in your work/test in elementary school you’d get a stamp that says just this, or your teacher would draw you a flower. The more elaborate the flower, the better you did. This is the only time thus far that Segasaki has said anything formal to Yoh at all. The sudden shift, and the imagery this phrase evokes – a literal stamp of approval – emphasises not just Segasaki’s approval, but also his role in Yoh’s life (ie, his role as Yoh’s provider, or well, maybe keeper is more accurate. Honestly Dom makes the most sense, but I’m not qualified to talk about that so see @lutawolf posts for more!). We’ll talk more about how both Segasaki and Yoh acknowledge the power dynamic between them in the way the speak in the language analysis post (that will come after this, before Ep 4's).

Y: この人、もしかして本当はめっちゃ俺のこと。。。？ Y: This person… could it be that he actually…really is… …me?

Y: 信じていい？ Y: Is it ok if I believe? sue me, I think believe and trust carry different nuances.

S: よかったな* (yokatta *na) S: シーツ買ったからいっぱいできんじゃん、大好きなセックス S: まあ　残念ながら　相手は大嫌いな俺**ですけど Original: S: Great, S: with more sheets, we can do it more often. Your beloved sex S: Well, unfortunately the other person is someone you hate Mine: S: Isn't this nice* S: Since you bought more sheets, we can do it a lot - the sex that you love so much S: Well, unfortunately, your partner is me - who you hate **so much

*The use of "na" here is slightly different from the one earlier - here it is used more for emphasis, and the downward tone carries a hint of mockery.

Again, Segasaki uses the same "the me who you hate" phrasing as he did earlier, emphasizing to Yoh once again that Segasaki is the one Yoh hates. Except here, he also ends off the sentence with "ですけど (desukedo)", and the whole phrasing of this line too, from the word "unfortunately" onwards, just feels business-like. As before, the shift in style gives the statement more weight- Segasaki is really not letting Yoh get away with this line here, and Yoh feels this acutely. The sharpness of the line makes him turn away abruptly in shock and even some anger.

S: お前が好きにしていいって言うんだから S: 好きにさせてもらうけど　*な (na)？ S: お前　本当バーカ Original: S: You told me to do as I like, S: then I’ll do what I want. Okay? S: You really are… an idiot Mine: S: You said I could do as I wish so, S: I'll gratefully do as I please... *yea? S: You're...really an idiot

*The "na" used here is similar to the one Segasaki used when telling Yoh to meet back at 5, in that it assumes the listener will agree with the speaker. This time it's not so much used to soften an imperative, but rather, to soften the teasing of the preceeding line - "I'll gratefully do as I please".

The phrase used here is "~させてもらう (~sasete morau)". "Sasete" means "to do" something, with the permission of the other person, and "morau" means "to receive (with thanks/gratefulness)" so together this phrase means that you're going to "do something (with the permission of the other person)", and you are thankful to have received that permission. It's usually used for things like asking your boss "May I please go home early with your kind permission" sorta thing, or telling someone that you "ate a meal someone provided for you that you are grateful for".

So here, Segasaki is pretty much saying "I'll do as I please since you so kindly told me I could, didn't you?" which is why he smirks as he says it.

/////

And we're finally done with EP 3!! Finally! Now I can finally talk about their general speech styles and what it means when they choose to switch between them. Thanks for joining me! Also, shout out to @eralkfang for tagging me in their meta post - I'm really glad these posts are helpful that way!!

#my personal weatherman #taikan yohou #体感予報 #MPW subtitle corrections #mytranslations #this was the episode that made me start this series #some of the subs are wrong in crucial places #and that hurts me #sorry it's late #we'll catch up during this 2wk break before Ep 6 #HOW IS THERE A 30 IMAGE LIMIT PER POST

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winxanity-ii · 3 months

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𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

╚»★«╝ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐨!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff, fanservice is to be expected atp

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, you and megumi meet a loving-spirit.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 5.9k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: I swear writing has felt like a chore lately. Sorry for the lack of updates—especially this series I haven't updated in like 5 months 💀 —but I've just been feeling so 'meehh'. Hope you like what I scrounged together; go to 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐍𝐨. ʲʲᵏ if you want to understand this; also Y/n's (your) power/ability description will be at the very bottom.

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The day was slowly fading into night as you followed Megumi down the dirt road, the sound of your footsteps serving as a stark reminder of the mission that awaited you.

The air was thick with the smell of rain, a slight mist wrapping around you like a cloak, gentle yet persistent.

You were both heading towards an abandoned altar—a place that was once the subject of whispers, now used as a secret rendezvous for the bold and the desperate to make passionate declarations of love.

Yet, underneath the romantic exterior lay a darker truth—reports of curse sightings and animals found heartless, their corpses a grim marker of the danger that awaited.

You walked carefully, paying attention to the muddy trail beneath your boots as it softly squelched.

Unlike the last mission, where you were buried under layers of your own reservations, tonight was different. In the fast approaching darkness, you found your voice and spoke your mind aloud to Megumi, who was walking ahead a few feet.

Even in the midst of uncertainty, you could always count on his steady presence as a silent watchdog.

Every now and then, a faint hum would escape him, a subtle acknowledgment that he was paying attention, that your words weren't lost to the raindrops and rustling leaves.

Your conversation flowed, a stream of thought that touched on everything and nothing at the same time; you even managed to touch on the topic of how the rain's moisture was becoming a menace to the twists you'd painstakingly spent so much time doing. "Seriously, this rain's plotting against my twists, and here I was, thinking my hair could survive a little water," you mused aloud, a note of resignation in your voice.

You then shot Megumi a sidelong glance, half-hoping, half-expecting him to join in your grudge against the weather.

But Megumi, ever the mystery man, offered nothing more than another one of his faint hums, a sound that was becoming more and more familiar.

It was comforting in a way, this non-verbal dance of communication between you two. It spoke of a budding partnership that was slowly, but surely, finding its rhythm.

Taking the reins, you continued talking. "Guess, I'll be spending a few hours trying to fix them up again. Maybe, Nobara would help—" As you spoke, something flickered in the corner of your eye, halting both your words movement; it was a brief interruption in the otherwise steady rhythm of your journey, something that didn't go unnoticed.

Megumi stopped and turned to face you, peering over his shoulder from beneath the umbrella he was carrying. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked, his voice cutting through the steady patter of raindrops, grounding you back to the moment.

You blinked, the image that had caught your eye disappearing as fast as it had appeared. "I'm… I'm good," you replied, the words more to comfort yourself than to worry him.

Shaking off the unease that clung to you like the moisture in the air, you continued walking, Megumi once again taking the lead, the silent guardian guiding you through the darkness that enveloped the path ahead.

As you resumed walking, Megumi offered a silent gesture of support, the umbrella extended towards you once more—an offer of safety from the rain. "You sure? It's no trouble," he insisted, the edge of the umbrella nudging closer in silent invitation.

"Nah, it's just a little drizzle," you replied flipping your hood onto your head, a stubborn streak of independence guiding your words. "No worries."

But, as if on cue, the skies above seemed to mock your rebellion, a bright flash of lightning tearing across the clouds, followed by a thunderous roar.

The skies opened, unleashing a downpour that quickly turned the drizzle into an intense storm in the blink of an eye.

Megumi's reaction was immediate, his grip firm on your wrist as he pulled you forward, navigating the path with a new sense of urgency.

He carefully angled the umbrella to provide you with the most protection from the sudden onslaught, with his own figure being of secondary importance. The world around you blurred, raindrops distorting your surroundings and making it difficult to see the path ahead.

Megumi led you both towards the shelter of the abandoned altar, his steadying presence acting as an anchor for you both.

The storm continued to rage as you and Megumi approached the abandoned altar, its once-holy stones now worn smooth by age and neglect. The steps, rotten and slick with rain, made each step slippery, but together, you managed to climb them.

It felt like a minor victory to reach the shelter of the altar's roof from the raging storm. The space beneath was a sorry attempt at providing shelter; its roof, riddled with holes, could barely keep the rain from pouring through.

The sound of water trickling through the cracks in the wood matched the staccato rhythm of the wind howling. In a space meant for four, you found yourselves both crammed together under a makeshift shelter that barely accommodated one.

You both huddled close, an involuntary intimacy forced upon you by the need to stay dry. With a click, the now-useless umbrella was closed, its purpose fulfilled.

"So, what now?" you asked, looking up at Megumi with a faint, wry smile mixed with resignation.

The situation was far from ideal, but there was a certain camaraderie in sharing this pitifully small shelter.

Megumi looked around the small room, his normally unwavering stoicism now tinged with a hint of irritation at their circumstances. "We wait it out," he said, his voice carrying a calm certainty that contrasted sharply with the chaos outside caused by the storm.

His shoulder brushed against yours, a silent reminder of the small space that separated you, yet there was an unexpected comfort in the closeness, a shared warmth in the cold that enveloped the altar.

The smell of earth and old rain filled the altar, a strong reminder of the building's struggle against nature and time.

There was a mutual understanding and an unspoken sense of camaraderie between you as you both stood there, pressed into a closeness that would have been awkward in other circumstances. You chuckled softly, not blind to the ridiculousness of the situation. "Of all the places to get stuck during a storm, it had to be a haunted altar, huh?" The attempt at humor was a small rebellion against the unease and the nagging fear of what might be lurking in the shadows.

Megumi's response was an uncommonly soft smirk, a brief lifting of of the curtain that usually concealed his emotions. "Seems fitting though, doesn't it? Just another day at Jujutsu Tech." Though he was joking, his eyes were alert, searching the shadows that danced just out of the beam of light.

Beneath the altar's roof, the little area grew into its own world, a shared experience bubble in the middle of the storm.

With every mission and vulnerable moment you shared, the rain's rhythm on the roof provided a steady backdrop for your quiet conversation. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of a bond that was gradually strengthening.

"In a weird way, it's kind of peaceful," you mused outloud, allowing yourself to lean slightly into Megumi's side to escape the chill. "You know, if you ignore the potential for curses lurking around."

Megumi nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in agreement. "It's the quiet before the storm. We should enjoy it while it lasts."

Under the dim cover of the altar's roof. The sight of an odd, hollow opening behind the altar distracted your gaze from the discomfort of the cold, dripping rain.

Megumi was the one who first noticed the irregularity—a tiny change in the wall that gave the impression that something was hidden, prompting more investigation.

With a nod, curiosity triumphed over caution and you both moved in closer, the beam Megumi's phone illuminating a narrow entrance to a hidden chamber.

This cramped space, barely bigger than a crawlspace, felt like a time capsule, its air thick with the must of old paper and forgotten secrets.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, the outlines of hundreds of letters became apparent; each one had been painstakingly stacked and preserved from the effects of ageing. The amount of letters received was astounding; there was a real weight to all the words that were unread.

You knelt down and grasped one of the letters, the paper crumbling beneath your fingers.

The handwriting was elegant, a flowing script that spoke of a bygone era. The letter opened, "To Yani," and as you skimmed through the contents, the story unfolded: it was a tale of love, longing, and a division that was too large to overcome.

Glancing over your shoulder, Megumi picked up another letter, written in a slightly rougher hand. "To Boton," he read aloud, his voice a low murmur in the quiet of the hidden room.

A story of star-crossed lovers torn between duty and desire was woven through the letters that exchanged between Boton, a village boy with dreams larger than his station, and Yani, the next priestess to this very altar.

Yani, as you learned, was to live in solitude on the porch of the altar, as had been customary for priestesses before her.

Boton's letters, filled with passion and pleas, vividly depicted his love for her, a love that dared to challenge the conventions that kept them apart. Yani's responses, though cautious, were not devoid of affection; they spoke of a woman torn between her heart and her obligations.

As you and Megumi sifted through the letters, the depth of their tragedy became apparent. Here, in this hidden alcove behind the altar, lay the ashes of a love that had once burned bright enough to defy fate, now reduced to whispers on aging paper.

"This is…incredible," you muttered as the realization of the finding sunk in. "They loved each other, against all odds."

Megumi nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And yet, it seems they were never truly able to be together. Tradition and duty…it cost them everything."

A slip-up takes your focus away from Megumi's thoughtfulness as he becomes more and more engrossed in Botan and Yani's tragic love.

Beneath your feet, the uneven floorboards cover a secret: a small box that has been forgotten and wedged, almost causing you to fall.

With a mix of curiosity and caution, you pry the wood loose and lift out the box, its contents covered in even more dust than the letters you had already found.

Sifting through the box, the letters you find within hold a shocking discovery. These are Yani's words, but they tell a different story, one of a love for Akio, a bard who captured her heart with songs of his travels. More disturbingly, they reveal her growing fear of Botan, whose affection had twisted into something dark and possessive.

Each letter unveils layers of emotion—love, fear, desperation—painting a picture that is very different from the romantic tale you initially imagined.

Intent on sharing this discovery with Megumi, you turn, only to find him in an unusual position with his back to you and his head bowed, seemingly burdened by the weight of the revelations. "Megumi," you begin, your voice trailing off into the silence of the hidden chamber.

Walking over, you reach out to put your hand on his shoulder, but before you can touch him, Megumi responds so quickly it contradicts his usual calm demeanor.

His hand snaps out, gripping your wrist with a surprising amount of strength, his touch chillingly gentle as he turns to face you. Confusion flutters within your chest when you find his eyes closed, his lashes casting shadows down his cheeks.

"Megumi?" His response is a silence that fills the space between you, heavy and oppressive.

His touch shifts, the hand on your wrist moving to cup your face with an unnerving tenderness while his other arm encircles your waist. "Megumi, what are you—?" With an abruptness that takes your breath away, he pulls you into his arms, leaving your words hanging, unfinished.

All you can manage is a startled yelp as your brain races to figure out what's going on.

The suddenness of the embrace disorients you, his arms a vice that squeezes you close to him, eliminating any room for doubts or questions.

For a moment, everything is reduced to the sensation of being held too tightly, with his body pressing firmly against yours. Confusion changes to panic as you realize that trying to break free of his tight hold is pointless.

"Um…Megumi?" Your voice barely rises above a whisper, tinged with a growing unease that seems to fill the cramped space around you.

Silence is his only reply, but it's broken by a low hum that emanates from his chest.

The air shifts as he moves closer, the distance between you evaporating like mist under the sun.

Megumi leans in, his breath cold against your skin, not at all like the warmth you remember. His movements are strangely tender, nuzzling against you in a gesture so intimate it verges on intrusive, and you feel an involuntary shiver when his nose brushes the point where your neck and shoulder meet.

It's too much.

If you don't move right now, you're positive you'll die from your ovaries combusting.

"Megumi—" you start, wiggling in his grasp to create space between the two of you.

But before you can continue, he interrupts you off with a growl that vibrates through his chest, "Stop saying his name." The words are a cold splash, jarring in their intensity and the unfamiliarity of the tone.

You freeze, not just from the shock of hearing Megumi speak with such coldness but also from the realization of what he's implying.

"What—" you begin again, but once more, he cuts you off, the growl deeper and louder as he tightens his hold around you, "Stop saying his name."

"Megumi, please—" Your words are cut short as he suddenly leans back, breaking the too-close embrace to lock his gaze with yours.

"I SAID STOP SAYING HIS NAME!" he shouts with such force and sharpness that you are momentarily stunned into silence.

The sight that greets you then halts everything—his eyes, once a comforting shade of emerald green, now blaze with an otherworldly red glow, rendering him almost unrecognizable.

The change is startling, a visual confirmation of the wrongness you've felt and a clear statement that the person before you is no longer just Megumi.

Your mind races, thoughts bouncing off of each other as you try to piece together the situation, to find out what caused the abrupt possession.

How? When? But your voice is lost to the shock that grips you, rendering you silent under his haunting, glowing gaze. Taking your silence as submission, the figure brings you back into his arms, face once again finding place in the junction of your neck.

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to react more visibly, to maintain some semblance of control in a situation that's spiraling into something straight out of your dreams.

The coldness of his lips, barely touching your skin, is a sharp reminder of the abnormality of this encounter. The Megumi you know, is not someone who would carelessly and intrusively invade your personal space, he's a man of quiet strength and guarded warmth.

Embarrassment floods your face, a burning contradiction to the cold touch of lips against your skin.

Your heart races, beating frantically against your ribcage, urging you to run away from this twisted mimicry of affection.

Yet, you're frozen, caught in the grip of someone who wears Megumi's face but is a stranger to his ways.

This close, the scent of rain on him is overshadowed by something else—a chill that seems to emanate from him, enveloping you in an invisible shroud of ice.

"Who are you?" The question slips from your lips in a breath, barely more than a whisper, your voice trembling as much as your body under his firm grasp.

A low hum vibrates through the figure holding you, a sound that, under different circumstances, might have been comforting but is instead unsettling.

He sways you from side to side in a gentle, almost loving manner that seems completely inappropriate given the chilly circumstances. "I am what remains of a lost soul," the imposter begins, his voice a haunting mimicry of Megumi's but laced with layers of sadness and insanity that the Megumi you know has never shown. "A soul that loved too deeply, too pure. I am Botan, and through me, the tragic tale of Yani and myself lives on."

The realization that this is not your Megumi, not truly, sends a pang of fear through you. With a surge of determination, you muster the strength to push against the imposter's iron grip.

The sudden movement takes him—no, it—by surprise, loosening the hold just enough for you to slip free.

You stagger back, putting distance between yourself and the entity posing as Megumi.

The small, confined space of the altar's hidden chamber suddenly feels even more claustrophobic, a sense of electric tension crackling through the damp air.

Rain continues to seep through the cracks above, a constant reminder of the storm that rages outside, indifferent to the storm that is currently brewing inside. Botan? The name echoes silently in your mind, a single question that clouds your understanding of everything you thought you knew about the mission.

Your mind race, connecting the dots back to the stack of letters, to the love story so tragically spelled out on aged paper.

The realization hits you like a train, bringing you back to earth. Cautiously, you fix your gaze on the figure before you—Megumi, no, Botan—and the words find their way out, laced with a newfound clarity. "You're the curse we're here to exorcise," you state, your voice stronger now, even as it trembles with the weight of your accusation.

At your words, Botan's fake smile began to crumble, revealing a crack in the façade that he so carefully maintained.

Behind him, a flash of thunder illuminates the cramped space, casting his features in a sinister light that sends a shiver down your spine. "Curse?" he repeats, the word a snarl that distorts Megumi's voice into something unrecognizable, something wholly other. His bewilderment quickly morphs into a twisted form of outrage, a sign that your words have struck deeper than intended. "I am not a curse," he asserts, the denial sharp and edged with a growing instability. "My love isn't evil. It's pure, more real than anything your world can offer."

You watch, a silent observer to his unraveling, as Botan clings to his narrative, to the justification of his actions which have crossed the boundary between life and death. "You don't understand," his voice laced with an almost insane desperation. "Yani was everything to me. Our love was meant to last an eternity. How can something so beautiful be considered a curse?"

His words hang heavy between you like a weight, demonstrating the extent of his delusions.

It's clear now that Botan doesn't see himself as a malevolent spirit but rather as a lover who has been wronged by fate and that his actions are justified.

For him, the line between love and obsession has become blurred; his conviction has made him oblivious to the pain and chaos his presence has brought.

"Yani...she was life itself, and to be near her breathed purpose into me," Botan's voice softens, a sharp contrast to the fervor that had underscored his previous words.

His gaze, lost in the distance of memories only he can see, speaks volumes of the love he once harbored—a love that, despite its intensity, was doomed from the start. The air around you seems to get heavier as he speaks, heavy with the weight of centuries' worth of grief and resentment. The story about a priestess and a village boy caught in a tragic dance comes to life—a tale of love turned obsession.

"You see, Yani was everything to me. But she chose another, a bard named Akio, whose songs of travel won her heart where my devotion could not," the entity's voice cracks, an opening in the facade that exposes Botan's desperation to the fullest. "In my rage, I did the unthinkable. I silenced her song forever, framing Akio for a crime born of my jealousy."

The confession hangs heavy in the air, the words a chilling testament to the lengths to which Botan's madness drove him—a madness that claimed Yani's life, wrongfully condemned an innocent man, and confined Botan himself to a shadowy existence due to his inability to face the harsh reality of his guilt and solitude, tying his soul to the physical world of the living by chains of his own making.

"I mourned her at this very altar, you know. Writing letters to a ghost, my love undiminished even in death," Botan continues, his gaze—though using Megumi's eyes—is hollow as he looks through you, lost in a past marred by tragedy and obsession. "After coming to terms with the horror of what I had done to Yani, I couldn't bear the weight of the outside world any longer. So, I sealed myself within this altar, crafting a sanctuary of sorrow from my confinement." As Botan delves deeper into his tale, the sorrow and madness that have consumed him for centuries seep into the cramped space of the hidden chamber, making the air around you grow colder.

"Here, in the silence of my self-made prison, I wrote the true tale of our tragic love," he continues, the words a testament to his long-lasting obsession. "Day after day, I penned letters not just to a ghost, but to the very essence of my undying affection for Yani, crafting a narrative where our love could live as I wished it had."

However, the truth that remains unsaid in between his sentences serves as a sharp reminder of how profound Botan's delusion is.

The letters are just more examples of his denial of reality, even though they are supposedly a true story of their tragic love affair. To deal with the unbearable weight of his actions, Botan fed his delusions by creating a false dialogue of reciprocated love between himself and Yani through letters he wrote while living in isolation.

"For centuries, I've been adrift, a specter lost in the shadows of my own despair," he reveals, the words heavy with a timeless grief. "But then, I saw a light—a warmth I hadn't felt since Yani's presence graced this world. It drew me forth, like a moth to a flame."

"That light," Botan explains, "was you. A small, flickering flame, but to me, it was a beacon."

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the implication dawning on you with a terrifying clarity. Botan's hand clutches the side of his head with a grimace as if Megumi's consciousness battles against the intrusion. "Y-You... you were the light," Botan stutters, his speech erratic, switching back and forth, punctuated by winces of pain. "Not her, not Yani... but you. When I saw you, it... it was as if Yani was reborn, calling to me from beyond."

You stand there—rooted to the spot in confusion and alertness—watching as the entity before you struggles with its own existence.

Botan's conviction that you are the reincarnation of his lost love blurs the line between past obsession and present delusion. "Yani... no, it's you. You are the one I've been waiting for," he insists, the words pouring out in a rush of madness and longing.

The sight of Megumi, or rather Botan, in such turmoil stirs up a mixture of emotions—fear for the friend ensnared by this tormented spirit, but also pity for Botan, a soul lost to time and obsession.

Yet, your compassion for the ghost does not cloud your determination to save Megumi.

As Botan's grip on Megumi's head tightens, you realize the time to act is now. Drawing deep from within, you channel your cursed energy, shaping it into a lasso of pulsating light.

"Elemental Catalyst: Creation's Forge."**

The energy thrums in your palm, a ray of light in the shadows.

You whip the lasso forward with a precision born of necessity, entangling Botan in its glowing coil.

The spirit's rantings escalate into a depressing crescendo as the lasso tightens, binding him with the force of your will. "Botan, release Megumi," you command, your voice steady despite the flurry of emotions raging inside of you. "Leave this world, and find peace. You don't belong here."

For a brief moment, you thought you were going to be able to release Megumi from the spirit's control, only for Botan to break free from the lasso's grip. The room plunged into even deeper shadows, the darkness manifesting as if it were wisps rising straight from Botan, who now hovered ominously a few inches off the ground. With a scowl that left you chilled you to the core, his eyes, filled with an unearthly glow, remained fixed on you. "You're never leave me again!" Botan roared, his voice a warped reflection of both Megumi's repressed will and his own suffering.

Extending his hand, he unleashed a torrent of shadows in your direction with ferocious intent.

Caught off guard, you were engulfed in an instant, the shadows constricting around you like a vice.

Each attempt to break free was met with relentless resistance; the dark energy pulsing against your skin, leaving bruises in its wake.

Botan had complete control over the shadows despite you fighting with everything you had, dodging and weaving, trying to find an opening, a weakness to exploit.

A particularly vicious sweep of dark tendrils knocked you off your feet, sending you tumbling across the floor of the cramped space.

You gasped for air, the wind knocked out of you, as you pushed yourself up on shaking arms. Determination burned within you, a refusal to let this be the end—especially with so much on the line.

With gritted teeth, you picked yourself up and jumped back into the fight, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and desperation.

Each blow you landed against the shadowy tendrils seemed to dissipate them, only for them to reappear and strike back with increased ferocity.

The battle was a dance as old as time, will against will, light against dark.

But the shadows were relentless, and before long, a particularly powerful hit sent you flying backward once again.

You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring your bones and scattering your thoughts. Lying there, exhausted and bruised, you stared up at the swirling mass of darkness with Botan at its heart.

Breathing in short, painful gasps, you realized the gravity of the situation—this was no longer just a battle of physical strength, but a test of mental and emotional resilience.

As you lay there, the cold floor beneath you a stark reminder of the ferocity of the battle, your scattered thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Botan looming over you.

His form, now a silhouette against the pulsating shadows, crouched to hover just inches above your face.

The change in his expression was jarring—what was once rage and despair, now held an unsettling mix of awe and adoration. His eyes gazed down at you with an intensity that felt both invasive and deeply sorrowful; so much like Megumi's yet so obviously altered by Botan's presence.

He reached out and caressed your cheek with an eerily gentle touch, as if he was afraid you would break under his grasp.

The sensation sent a shiver down your spine—a visceral reaction to the paradoxical tenderness shown from the entity that had just relentlessly attacked.

Each time Botan's gaze bore into yours, you found yourself turning away, unable to withstand the weight of his stare.

It was Megumi's face looking down at you, but unlike the Megumi you knew, the eyes were full of a hauntingly misplaced affection.

The dissonance between his gentle touch and the chaos he had brought was disarming, leaving you caught between the urge to flee and the realization that this thing in front of you was just as much a victim of his own obsessions as Megumi was of his possession.

"My love," Botan murmured, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo around the cramped space, filling it with a chilling sense of longing.

The word—meant to soften your heart—felt like a chain around your heart, heavy with implications you dared not fully comprehend.

Your heart raced, a cyclone of terror, confusion, and an aching sadness for the perverted kind of love that Botan carried—a love that had transcended death to manifest in this obsession.

It was overwhelming to realize that you were at the center of that obsession right now. To keep some semblance of composure in the face of such unnerving intimacy, you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Finally, you managed to whisper "Stop," a word that was barely audible yet carried the weight of your resolve. "This isn't him. You're not him." The plea was as much for Botan to hear as much as it was a reminder to yourself, a desperate attempt to draw a line between the spirit's delusion and your reality.

Botan simply shook his head, unfazed by your quiet defiance. Gently, he pulled your upper body up against him, drawing you into an embrace that was meant to be consoling but had the effect of suffocating.

His hand continued to gently stroke your face, and as it did so, it tugged at the very fabric of your being. "My love. You're all I want. All I need," he murmured, each word a testament to his delusions and the intensity of his obsession that had surpassed logic and time. "I love you, from now until the end of time, as I've always done."

It was a bizarre scenario, a warped imitation of closeness forged in the darkness of possession and misdirected love.

You could feel the warmth of Megumi's body, the physicality of his presence, yet the spirit that drove him was foreign, a ghost of a time lost to its own cravings and unable to look beyond them.

Your mind raced, desperation clawing at the edges of your thoughts as you searched for a way out, a solution to the nightmare that had ensnared both you and Megumi.

And then, in the midst of the chaos, an idea sparked—a dangerous gamble, but one that might just turn the tide.

Slowly, pushing down every instinct that screamed against it, you melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer.

The act, a calculated display of the affection he so desperately wanted, was nothing more than a charade, a carefully constructed performance dictated by the dire circumstances. "I love you, too," you whispered, adding a sweetness to your voice that covered up the sting of the lie. "You're my everything, my every want, my every need," you continued, your words creating a tapestry of fake devotion and broken promises.

As you spoke, you lifted your gaze to meet his, holding his eyes with a steady intensity.

You looked deep into Megumi's eyes, where Botan's spirit had briefly taken control, looking for any trace of suspicion, any indication that he might be able to see past the surface.

However, all that was reflected back to you was a haunting desire for closeness, which Botan mistakenly believed to be confirmation of his hallucinations.

"Without you, there's just emptiness," you added with lidded eyes, layering your deceit with the weight of feelings you were never allowed to experience. "Stay with me, and never let me go," you murmured, hoping to trap Botan and induce complacency in him.

Your fingers gently traced the curve of his jaw, an act of intimacy that served to further prove your devotion.

Botan—completely engrossed in your act—allowed his guard to drop further, the edges of his possession softening in the face of what he thought were reciprocated feelings. His cage-like embrace now felt more like the hesitant touch of a lover, his resistance melting away under the warmth of your supposed affection.

The moment was charged with the tension of unsaid truths and the desperation of a spirit clinging to the remains of the life he once knew.

And as he leaned in, eyes closed in anticipation of the kiss that would seal his delusion, you pushed forward with all your energy, preparing to shatter the illusion and sever the ties that bound him to this world and Megumi.

When the exorcism comes, it's a release—for Botan, a release from centuries of unrequited love turned obsession and for Megumi, a return to himself.

The exorcism surged through the both of you, a barrage of energy that tore Botan's presence from Megumi, sending the spirit back to where it belongs once and for all—the other side. The storm outside begins to recede as the last of Botan's essence disappears, dissolving into the air, signaling the end of the night's hardship.

Megumi's form slackens, and his eyes—once a blazing red—returns to their familiar shade of green.

There's a moment of disorientation when he regains consciousness, and then when his gaze settles on you, recognition and confusion blooms on his face.

Panting from exhaustion, you help Megumi sit up beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder with a tired smile. "Guess we really 'ghosted' him, huh?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood with a little cringe-worthy humor.

Megumi couldn't help but respond with a small nudge and a joking roll of his eyes, a silent acknowledgement of your attempt to find humor in the aftermath.

Then, in a rare moment of intimacy, he puts his own head over yours, his free hand pulling out his phone to text Gojo that they've completed the mission, the ordeal finally over.

You had no idea that, as you drifted off into a tired state of semi-consciousness, Megumi found his gaze returning to you, again and again.

There was an unusual intensity in his eyes, a depth of emotion that seems out of place, even to him.

I've got you, always...no harm will come your way, not now, not ever. And if they try, I'll kill 'em, he thinks to himself, the thought enveloping his mind in a protective, almost obsessive fervor infected with a hint possessiveness.

For a split second, Megumi is startled by the intensity of his own thoughts. He doesn't know what spurred on such a fierce protective instinct, but just looking at you—the soft rhythm of your breathing, the gentle warmth from your body, and the steady beat of your heart near his—is all it takes to dissolves any lingering questions and concerns.

Hm, maybe I’m overthinking things, he muses, watching you murmur softly in your sleep, your face relaxed and peaceful. For now, he's content to simply be here, in this moment, with you safely tucked under his chin.

As you snuggle closer, seeking warmth and comfort in your semi-conscious state, something within him shifts—his heart gives a small, satisfied squeeze, releasing a wave of contentment through him.

Yeah, maybe I should get some sleep, Megumi decides, as he feels the weight of sleepiness begin to pull him down too, that whatever this is, it can wait.

don't clow me too hard y'all, school really got me going through it fr 🥴🥴...

🇾‌/🇳‌'🇸‌ 🇵‌🇴‌🇼‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌/🇦‌🇧‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇮‌🇪‌🇸‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇮‌🇷‌ 🇩‌🇷‌🇦‌🇼‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇸‌:

...Elemental Catalyst: Creation's Forge...**

Allows her to draw energy from her eyes to form shields, weapons, or heal herself or others... Drawbacks: Using this ability for an extended period drains her energy; For the healing aspect, a temporarily soul-bond needs to take place, making it a double-edged sword because she might absorb some of their pain or fatigue, making the act of healing more complex...