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#But I don't know how this exactly overlaps
eerna · 3 hours
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Wait okay omg I would love to hear your thoughts about the Broadway Mulan Rouge because I also have many feelings about it, most of them disappointment unfortunately lol. It could've been amazing!! But I just!! I don't feel it like I felt it in the movie idk man
Yeah, I am the same... I was SO hyped when I heard that they were turning it into a musical, but in retrospect it is pretty clear it was never gonna be what I wanted it to be :(
THE MUSIC. To me, MR! has this very recognizable music style where it is a jukebox musical, but every song is rewritten and its accompaniment changed so that they all fit together with the soundtrack of the film. It's percussion heavy, it's piano heavy, very jazzy/mid century film music? If you know the songs and try to sing along, you will fail, because they're just that different. That's why it doesn't suffer from the jukebox musical curse, in my opinion. However, BMR! totally removed those stylistic changes and turned them all into pretty standard musical theater arrangements of pop songs, and they all overstay their welcome because they aren't even shortened. NOW it suffers from the jukebox musical curse, bc how am I supposed to take's Christine's "I want" song seriously if it's FIREWORK by KATY PERRY. The worst example of this is what they did to El Tango de Roxanne, the most iconic part of the movie. In MR!, it's a mashup of Roxanne by The Police (representing the Argentinian's tale) and Tanguera by Mariano Mores with original lyrics (representing Christian's angst over Satine). Both songs take turns and overlap, pointing out the parallels, rising in intensity until everyone starts screaming and crying. Absolute insanity. I don't know a single person who wasn't floored by this song when they first saw the scene. In BMR!, it's Christian's solo, which means no parallels, most of the song is Roxanne and the iconic Tanguera melody shows up for like 40 seconds in the beginning and in the end just so they can say they put it into the show. There is no rising tension, there is no overlaps, no development, it's just. There. Like yes you put it into the show, but pretty much all of its symbolism and memorable aspects are gone. And the jukebox issues are stabbing you in the eyes. WHY IS CHRISTIAN SINGING ABOUT A WOMAN NAMED ROXANNE. WHO IS ROXANNE. IT MAKES SENSE IF ROXANNE IS THE NAME OF THE WOMAN FROM THE ARGENTINIAN'S STORY, BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE THAT CHRISTIAN IS THE ONE SINGING ABOUT HER. God.
THE WEIRDNESS. MR!'s aesthetic is super interesting to me because it represents its aura of sex appeal and hedonism through the lenses of grotesque. It would have been super easy to put the sex workers into sexy outfits and glam up their faces and make them sing seductive songs on beautiful stages, but no. Their outfits are eye stabbing, their makeup is garish, and they're screeching and throwing themselves around violently on stages that are dark, kitchy, claustrophobic, and loud, while the camera switches every 2 seconds and your brain feels like it's running on fumes. AND IT IS SO FUN. The club looks SO nasty and SO fun and I wanna go there. However, BMR! doesn't want to alienate anyone, so they did... Exactly what I said. Everyone is universally attractive, the stage is very clean-cut and open, the appeal of the club is played completely straight. This is best shown in the production Christian writes for the club. I know that the play from the movie is not very PC so I totally get why they would change some of it, but... They turned it from a vibrant, oversaturated opera with enormous musical numbers that lends itself perfectly to the big dramatic finale taking place during its premiere into a THREE CHARACTER CHAMBER DRAMA. Like who tf signed off on this change. WHO. LET ME SEE. WHO SAID THAT THE FINALE OF THE ENTIRE STORY WILL BE SET IN A STAGE IMITATION OF A LIVING ROOM. GOD I AM SO UPSET.
THE ROMANCE. MR! works because Christian is a naiive, innocent, idealistic poet with grand ideas of love. THAT'S why Satine falls for him - he is completely different from other men, and he makes her believe love can be more than what she'd been given throughout her life. Also, he's never been in love, so everything feels much more real and intense for him. In BMR! he is a completely different character, an overconfident seductive sexyman. Why would he be any different than all the other men in Satine's life??? Because he can write good??????? She has met many writers before, as we know, so what makes this guy different????? And not only are we less forgiving of his bad actions because he is older and experienced, HE IS SO MUCH WORSE IN THE SHOW. In MR! he sells his typerwriter to buy a ticket for Satine's premiere to go see her one last time and scream at how horrible she is - bad, and horrible to watch. In BMR!, he sells his typewriter to BUY A GUN and goes to Satine's premiere SO HE CAN KILL HER OR HIMSELF ONSTAGE - absolutely insane and horrible and how tf did we get here. AND LET ME REMIND YOU that this version of the story DOESN'T EVEN HAVE THE STORY CONTEXT OF EL TANGO DE ROXANNE, in which Roxanne's lover kills her, SO THEY REMOVED THE ONE BIT OF FORESHADOWING THAT COULD HAVE MADE IT MAKE SENSE.
THE REST OF THE WRITING. BMR! tried to give depth to side characters and their relationship with Satine, but that means they totally sidelined that Satine is a deeply unhappy person in a very unhealthy situation. They tried to make it look like she is choosing to marry the Duke (YEAH I FORGOT TO MENTION, THE DUKE IS A SEXY SEXY GUY WHO WANTS TO MARRY HER IN THIS VERSION) without any pressure put onto her by the club, but that makes it all so much more boring. MR! is far from a deep analysis of Satine's friendships, but I thought that the little bits and pieces we saw were delightfully complex. Satine is going to become the Duke's mistress because he will sponsor the club, and everyone employed there will live a better life. Ziegler is her father figure, but he is also her pimp who is pushing her into the relationship. He feels sorry for her and obviously cares for her outside of their business relationship, but he is so deep in the "underworld life" that he no longer sees a way out for anyone. But when it becomes apparent that Satine can no longer withstand the pressure, that the life they are all living is something she can't deal with, everyone just. Helps her out. They bail her out of the tower, they threaten the Duke, they stand with her, it's not verbal, it's all in the actions. It's why we can have a grand finale where everyone sings and dances while the Duke is crying in the background. BMR! has the girls telling Satine they care about her and her telling them she will protect them, but they are completely useless in the plot. No one comes for her in the tower, and the play is a THREE PERSON DRAMA so Christian is the only one there to stand with her in the end.
THE PLAY. I already said most of my issues with it but just to point it out once more. There is nothing more annoying to me than a piece of media that's about a piece of media being written, and then that piece of media ends up unseen. Throughout MR! we see the play being written, we see many scenes being added, hear a ton of songs from it, the issue of the plot resolution is a big dramatic point, and the finale of the movie is also the final scene from the play. In BMR! we see one scene, the show's end, that keeps being repeated over and over again.
SATINE'S WHITE DRESS. It deserved its own point bc what the hell is this.
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This is already super long, but this show annoys me so much I could legit keep going lol. Everything is worse. Everything is toothless and clawless. It's such wasted potential.
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inevitablemoment · 5 months
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Death: Hello, Elisabeth! It's me, your mental illness!
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longroadstonowhere · 1 year
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youtube has discovered my weak point: quiz videos on musical songs
anyway why was santa fe a place celebrated in two different musicals
also apparently they made a goosebumps musical??? that sounds fascinating, if it’s ever getting put on near me i should try and go see it i think (unless i look it up and it’s uninteresting)
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sincerelyneo · 2 months
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teeth | l.hc
“fight so dirty but your love’s so sweet”
💿now playing: teeth by 5 seconds of summer
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❯ summary: Traditionally the caption of the cheer team and the captain of the soccer team are friends - some even date. But you and Donghyuck definitely aren’t friends - if anything you’re enemies. The two of you can’t go five minutes without an argument. So, why are you letting him fuck you in the locker room?
❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader
❯ genre: college!au, enemies with benefits, smut
❯ words: 2.5k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, bickering, swearing, unprotected sex (don't do this!), hate sex, degrading names, general name-calling, manhandling, haechan is an asshole, but reader is also lowkey mean, choking, use of nickname 'princess', reader uses she/her pronouns, hardly any plot, it's literally just them hate fucking idk what to tell ya.
cheeky author's note: i'm very brtish, so referring to this as soccer literally made me want to rip my hair out 😀
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“You don’t have to be so rough you know, Hyuck!”
"Will you just shut up and let me fuck you!?" He snaps.
The red metal of Lee Donghyuck's locker is cold against the skin of your bare back. Honestly, you don’t even know how it happened. But somehow the captain of the soccer team (and the boy you swear you hate) has you pinned against the boy’s lockers, one leg wrapped around his waist and the top half of your cheer uniform hiked up just enough to give him a full display of your tits. His left-hand grips your hip so tightly that you’re certain he’s doing it on purpose just to piss you off.
Not only that, but he also has your skirt bunched up around your waist. Giving him just the right amount of easy access to pull your panties to the side and tease his cock between your folds.
"Will you just hurry up and stick it in!?" You try to yell at him but, from the way he’s teasing the head of his cock at your entrance, the attempt comes out like a feeble whine.
Exactly on command, the scowl on your face quickly morphs into a wince, and the annoyed quirk on your lips disappears to form a small 'o' as Hyuck’s grip on your hip hardens and he pushes his cock quickly into your cunt. You can’t complain though - you did just tell him to stick it in.
"Shit," you squirm, hand coming up to his chest, pressing hard against the badge of his soccer uniform that rests on his right peck.
"Now look who’s needy," He teases. "I vividly remember you saying I’d be the shittest fuck on the soccer team."
"That’s what this is about!? You’re still mad that– uhh," you’re cut off by your own moan and your nails sink into the fabric of his shirt when he starts to move his hips. His pace is surprisingly slow - deliberately teasing - in comparison to his rapid first thrust inside of you.
"Christ! Even when you fuck you talk too much," Hyuck curses, his hand wrapping around your arm to free himself from the grip you have on his shirt.
"You're one to talk," You hiss back. "Even when you fuck you’re still an annoying little asshol– "
You gasp as he pulls out of you completely and then thrusts into you once again.
"You could've at least warned me, you dick,” You exhale, your walls readjusting to his size for the second time - and what a big size he was.
“Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture princess.”
You can’t believe that even when he’s buried to the hilt inside of your pussy he’s still calling you that stupid fucking nickname. It’s not the word ‘princess’ itself that bothers you per se; it’s Lee Donghyuck’s intention behind the name that makes your blood blister with anger. He’s been calling you ‘princess’ since your freshman year in college but you’d only ever inquired about it recently.
You were at a party, and even though you hate the bones of Lee Donghyuck, you’d be lying if you said your social circles didn’t overlap. It was inevitable, he’s on the soccer team, you’re a cheerleader; honestly, the two of you should be friends. But you’re not. And because of your strained relationship, it was no surprise that the minute you walked through the door he’d picked a fight with you.
You can't even remember what the argument was about now, but you know the two of you had gone back and forth in a boxing match of insults that always ended with him throwing the word ‘princess’ at the end of his rebuttals. And you really couldn’t quite understand why. In your mind, being called a princess was a compliment, but to Donghyuck, princesses were “spoilt bitches who have no grip on reality.”
Safe to say you didn’t think the term was one of endearment after that.
And it was at that same party where you’d insisted Donghyuck would be the shittest fuck on the soccer team – something you’re currently finding out as being not true as he fucks you senseless six ways to Sunday. In all honesty, even when Yuta had asked you the question in a silly little game of truth or dare, you knew Hyuck was the cop-out answer. Truthfully, your real answer would have been Jisung or Chenle. They’re both a little younger and act more awkward with you. But still, you’d let hell freeze over before letting Lee Donghyuck think he was a better fuck than somebody else. However, you’re pretty sure you’ve broken that promise to yourself from the way you’re breathlessly panting and gasping from the vigorous drilling of his cock. That or hell genuinely has frozen over.
But still, what did he expect? The two of you couldn’t go half a second without a petty argument. Sometimes you find yourself just doing it because you were bored and he was there. After all, it’s just the norm between the two of you.
That’s why you can’t quite understand why he’s taking a stupid comment said in a passing game of truth or dare to heart. You’ve said worse to him, you're sure of it.
Hyuck pulls out of your pussy and the emptiness that lingers between your legs has you groaning – even if it’s just for a second. He doesn’t give you long to harp on the loss of friction because he wastes no time dropping your leg from his hip, gripping your waist and slamming the front of your body against his locker.
You want to make another snarky comment about his roughness, but you secretly love it. Well, it’s not so secret actually — Hyuck is well aware that you like his manhandling because he feels your wetness becoming more slick on his cock as he thrusts into you from behind.
His pace in the new position is still tortuous, slow and teasing, and so fucking annoyingly good. But you don’t know how much longer you can take the tormenting leisurely pace. You want more - you need more. If he didn't have your arms pinned behind you and you flush against the lockers, you’d claw at his back to make him go faster.
You feel a warmth on the nape of your neck as he nuzzles against your ear, placing a kiss so gently, that you’re shocked at the sudden contrast in his demeanour.
“This the shittest fuck you’ve had, huh?”
No.
“Yes,” you reply and he growls deeply. There’s a rough snap of his hips and it catches you off guard so much you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a whimper.
“Fucking liar,” he scoffs.
The insult makes your face screw up in a glare, but still, all you can manage is a breathy, “Am not.”
No matter how good the length of his cock is making you feel, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right – that he’s not the worst fuck on the soccer team. Not that you had much experience with the others.
But even though you refuse to use your words to tell him you’re loving it, your body betrays you by being so fucking responsive to his touches. And no matter how hard you fight against him, Hyuck never lets you gain an inch. In fact, every time you try to free your arms from his, he lets out a frustrated groan, and the sound only makes your pussy throb harder.
His hand slips up your body until it finds your throat, where his fingers dig into either side of your neck. He stops his thrusts.
“Well if you’re not lying, are you saying I’m a shitty fuck princess?” He asks innocently as if he’s about to be gentle with you, but you know better. After all, this is Donghyuck. “If you want to pretend like you don’t want this; if that helps you sleep at night, then fine, but your slutty cunt is so fucking wet, I can almost feel you soaking my balls.”
He ducks down to place a kiss on your jaw, and you feel his lips smile into it as you shudder from his words. Instinctively, you swing your head away from him, only to be yanked back by the hand around your throat. He chuckles against your skin, hips starting to move again, thrusting shallowly into your stretched cunt.
“If I’m such a shitty fuck, I supposed you want me to stop, huh?” He asks in a low voice, lips grazing your cheek.
Noises you’ve never heard yourself make before tumble from your mouth as you moan and sob shamelessly. You try to bite your tongue, try not to fuel his ego, but his rhythm is too good at tearing down your guard, which is why you find yourself crying out, “Please don’t stop!”
He laughs, fucking you harder and faster, the stings of pain from his cock hitting you so deep morphing into a hot ache of pleasure that coils tighter and tighter in your core.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls.
His fingers, still on your throat press into your skin, not hard enough to cut off your air supply but just enough pressure to force out strangled moans. Your shoulders rub against the coarse material of his soccer kit, grounding you against him as he fucks you in punishing thrusts.
You don’t want to admit it, but your body can’t resist it.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” you mumble, eyes squeezed tight together.
“Yeah? You gonna cum for me like a good little slut?” he murmurs into your temples
The low rumble of his voice has the tension in your core ratcheting higher, pushing you closer to your release. Your head feels like it’s floating as the tight spring in your stomach coils until it finally snaps and has your knees buckling beneath you.
Hyuck keeps his speed steady, fucking you through your climax and savouring the way your walls clench around him in rigid spasms. Your orgasm triggers his and he clenches his jaw.
“Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he ruts into you harder, and all you can do is moan for him.
“Please,” you whimper.
He chuckles at your submission - he’s never seen you like this before - so needy and desperate. He didn’t think it was possible to love anything about you; but this right here, you fucked out and pleading for his cum, yeah, he fucking loves it.
He ruts into you a last few times with thrusts that are wild and more frenzied, his thighs slapping against your ass. He contemplates cumming inside of you, but he figures he’d save that for another day since the two of you had forgotten about a condom and hadn’t really discussed it.
And…did he just think about having sex with you again?
With a loud groan that rattles against the metal in the empty locker room, Hyuck pulls out of your cunt and jerks his cock until he’s cumming onto the small of your back. Unable to stop yourself, you moan softly and a stupid smile spreads across your face when you hear him sigh.
After that it's silent, only your rapid breaths echoing in the room. He’s pressed against you, face buried in your neck, holding you and your weak legs in place. You stay like that for a beat, but then you remember who it is that’s just fucked you.
Without any more hesitation, you shake his grip and push him away from you. "Christ! Stop breathing down my neck. Fucking gross."
If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s your arch nemesis you would have stayed tangled up in him a little while longer, letting yourself get soaked up in the fact that that was the best sex you’ve ever had.
As you turn around to face him, he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen on his face.
“There’s a towel in my bag if you want to…”
You scoff, “How chivalrous of you.”
You pull the towel from the bag in his locker and start wiping at his cum on your back. Your body is turned away from him but you can still feel his eyes lingering on you as you wipe away.
You stop to look at him, “What are you still doing here? We have a game in like 10 minutes. Shouldn’t you be like…warming up or something?”
“I think I’m already warmed up,” he mumbles and you shake your head with a smile, going back to cleaning yourself off.
“Seriously, get on the pitch,” you demand when you see him still lingering.
There’s a hand in his hair, scratching his head and he looks a little flushed. You never see him like this, it’s weird. The Hyuck you know and loathe is cocky, smug, arrogant, all of those kinds of words; but the one in front of you looks so awkward, flushed. Is it weird you kinda like it?
“Are you waiting for me to tell you you aren’t a bad fuck or something? Seriously Hyuck, get lost,” you try and joke, pulling down your cheer uniform.
“No..I…” he stumbles.
You groan, “Oh no, don’t do this. Don’t make things weird.”
“I’m not—”
“Can’t you just be like a normal guy and…I don’t know, say it felt good to fuck me like you hate me or some shit?”
His eyes sweep over your face as if he were studying you. His face softens and he steps closer.
“I mean I could say that, because it felt fucking amazing actually,” he says and you swallow thickly. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”
You pause, freezing as he comes towards you. You don’t even register how close he is until you feel his breath on your lips and his chest against yours.
“What?”
“I don’t actually hate you that much,” he admits, and your eyes widen.
“Yeah right, funny joke,” you roll your eyes and laugh sarcastically but he’s not laughing with you. In fact he’s just looking at you, deadpan, and it’s starting to freak you out.
When you realise that he is in fact serious, you cross your hands across your chest.
“You’re not gonna start doing all that cheesy shit they do in the movies, where you profess your undying love for me, and tell me you never really hated me and it was all just a miscommunication, are you?”
“Fuck no!” He almost gags at the mention of it. “Just because I said I don’t hate you that much doesn’t mean I like you? Are you crazy?”
“Well I’m just making sure,” you poke his chest.
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “But I do wanna do this again…” he trails off so quietly that you wouldn’t have heard it if there was anybody else in the room with you.
“This?”
“Yes, this. Us. Fucking,” he explains. “I fucking hate you, but fuck, I think I love your pussy.”
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blooberrries · 4 months
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『consequential』 — satoru
— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year
prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]
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While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.
Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.
You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.
But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.
(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)
To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.
You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)
Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.
You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.
And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.
It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.
Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.
It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.
“Hey.”
Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”
The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.
“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”
Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.
“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.
“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”
You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.
It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.
“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!
The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.
Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.
“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“
A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.
Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.
“Come with me. Now.”
You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.
Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.
Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.
For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.
Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.
“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.
“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.
“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.
“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”
You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.
“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”
His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.
“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”
“Excuse me?”
When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.
“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“
Satoru snaps.
“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”
He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—
“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.
“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”
He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.
“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“
His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.
Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.
“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“
He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.
“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”
Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“
“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.
“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”
You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.
This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.
“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”
Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.
A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.
You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.
A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.
“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”
You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.
With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.
He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.
“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”
You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.
Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.
“Say it.”
You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.
“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”
Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“
Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.
You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.
Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.
Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.
“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”
You snort; that’s likely.
“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”
He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.
“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”
You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.
likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!
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fairuzfan · 6 months
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Hey, I've read your post reply on the ask about the Standing together movement, and there you mentioned that it's incorrect to separate Palestinians and Jews and create a false dichotomy when speaking about liberating Palestine and anti-occupation movement. Could you please elaborate on that? It's a very interesting take that I haven't heard before yet.
So I generally don't understand why we are separating "Palestinian" and "Jews" with no potential for overlap between the two. By separating them, this implies, fundamentally, that there can be no Jewish Palestinians which... is not true. Just even historically, Jewish Palestinians exist and continue to exist.
Why are they mutually exclusive terms within their mission statement when they wish to "stand together"? And I'm not saying this in a condescending manner, I'm saying this because I know there are Palestinians who live in Israel who insist on being referred to as Palestinian. They won't let their Palestinian identity be erased under any circumstances. But they're the only group at risk of having that happen to them. Jewish people are not at risk of having their Jewishness erased for being Palestinian. So how can it be "standing together" when you acknowledge that there is a divide, societally, between perceptions of identity where one is at risk of total destruction by another and you, yourself, do not risk anything?
Where do Jewish Palestinians fall in this dichotomy, exactly? Does that mean no Palestinian will be able to convert to Judiasm without giving up their Palestinian identity? Are Jewish people just innately separated from Palestinians as a whole? If so, what is the thing that categorizes "Palestinian" in their eyes? Is it their religion? Well it can't be, because Palestinians have a diverse array of religions and like I said, people who identity as Palestinian and Jewish exist and are at risk of having their "Palestinian" erased in favor of their "Jewish" one.
Is it their ethnicity? Also can't be, because there is a vast array of ethnicities within Palestinian society. Unless they mean Palestinian=Arab, which is erasure. It erases Armenian Palestinians who play an integral part in Palestinian culture, for example.
So like what is the separation exactly? How are these mutually exclusive categories and how are we defining them? Unless, which is the reason that underlies all this, you mean to say that there is a difference between people who are Palestinians and people are Jewish innately in some unidentifiable manner?
Now, many Palestinians who have Israeli citizenship are not really subject to equal rights lol. And those rights are taken away *because* they are Palestinian. You have to acknowledge that. So when we say "Jewish and Palestinian" in a mission statement where you intend to """solve""" inequality, you're already setting that distinction in your mind that there is an actual difference between these people. So it's problematic in that vein.
But also, the group doesn't address the systematic abuses Palestinians face for YEARS, even before the Likud government. You can't erase that and attribute it to Netanyahu only. You have to address that the very system of Israel was founded on the mass expulsion and erasure of Palestinians, that includes Palestinian Jews.
But again, we have this dichotomy of "Jewish" and "Palestinian," setting into motion that "Palestinian" is somehow an identity that is separate from "Jewish." And through what definitions are we imposing that difference? Through... race science? Through cultural differences? Well, again, what about people who have cultural overlaps. Like if a nonJewish Palestinian marries a Jewish person who is not Palestinian and their child is growing up with both cultures? What does that mean for them? What does that mean for the two people who got married? And even Jewish Palestinians, are they having to give up their Palestinian side for marrying someone Jewish? Won't that cause further inequality within our groups? Isn't this separation just a nicer worded version of segregation in that way?
We have to acknowledge that it is within the state of Israel's interests, at their core, to separate these two identities. So by playing into this narrative, we're continuing the very colonization of history as they try to rewrite the past, implying that Jewish Palestinians especially were not considered a part of Palestinian culture and werent allowed to partake in it.
And it's just, to me, very racist to assume that there can't be overlap between these two types of people. It's happened in Palestine for centuries. But when Balfour comes in and is like "here you go, Jewish people of European cultural heritage, here is your homeland, nevermind the other people who have customs and traditions here, just do whatever you want and get out of Europe," everyone just nods their head like yeah that's reasonable. They didn't even try to learn Palestinian culture and life they just kicked us out. I'd argue that Palestinians would have welcomed Jewish immigrants who sought a safe homeland, so long as they didn't kick us out and enact nearly a century of violence. Palestine is the holy land for a reason! This land is the convergence of faiths and ideas and culture in such a unique way. Labeling it "Palestine" emphasizes that Palestinians are diverse and allow for an overlap of identities!
Essentially, when you try to separate groups of people like this, particularly when the separation of "Palestinians" (or more commonly referred to as "arabs" in Israeli society. Even our identities are erased to homogenize us) and "Jews," it makes it seem like Palestinians are fundamentally anti-jewish and antisemitic. And historically, just doesn't even make any sense.
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cripplecharacters · 2 months
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The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media
[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]
If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?
Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.
Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:
If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.
The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.
The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.
Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.
With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.
Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...
Why It Sucks 
[large text: Why It Sucks]
It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it. 
Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.
Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?
Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.
Perpetuating disfiguremisia. 
"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk
[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]
It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.
Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred. 
Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.
It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.
*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.
When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.
Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic. 
It doesn't have to be.
Questions to Ask Yourself
[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]
Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.
Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.
You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.
The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.
Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?
I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.
Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?
Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?
Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?
Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?
And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?
Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?
If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up. 
Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?
Why not “normal”?
Question four: why did you make the character the way they are? 
Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.
Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?
Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?
Question six: why is your character wearing a mask? 
Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?
For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.
How do you feel?
F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]
[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]
As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns. 
“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.
“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.
“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.
“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.
"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.
“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it. 
"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.
“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.
"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.
Closing Remarks
[large text: Closing Remarks]
I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.
With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.
Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.
And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.
I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)
Mod Sasza
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moons-of-dewclan · 3 months
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Hey, a person who is baffled by lineless styles here. You have a more lineless style and I noticed you do still use darker lines to separate overlap stuff so the cats don’t become amorphous blobs. Is there a certain amount you tend to make the lines darker? Or is it like black at a lower opacity? Also when drawing darker cats (or anything else too), do you have any tips for not making them so dark you can’t see the lines or is it just kinda trial and error? Also sorry if this is a lot of questions, just one more, is there any technique or tool or something you use to make the lines stop exactly where the overlap stops, or do you just do it by hand and kinda get better at it with practice?
(Thank you if you answer this. Stuff like this has confused me for a long time and I’ve just now realized I can just ask, hahah)
HELLO BAFFLED ANON. i hope this helps..
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IF YOUR SCREEN IS DARK, our girl still looks pretty ... Dark.. BUT you can always make contrast more extreme! AS FOR THEEEEE LINE TECHNIQUE.. ogh i don't think i know what you mean. MAYBE I DO?? the 'shading' lines are pretty much just done how you'd do lineart lines! if you overshoot and they cross where they shouldn't, erase :3 ALSO GUYS WORKING WITH BINARY BRUSHES IS SOOO SMOOTH JSYK. i accidentally drew shine's face on his head layer and i just had to select and copypaste it onto a new layer to fix that. bc there's no aliasing, the lines can perfectly transfer without needing a touchup for jagged edges
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gay-jesus-probably · 1 year
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Okay so I have a lot of thoughts about the whole thing of the Gerudo being a race of entirely women, with the only exception being one man born every hundred years, and that man automatically being their king. Now this worldbuilding comes from Ocarina of Time, and there's obviously a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications there, because it was 1998. And it seems that Tears of the Kingdom is sticking with the lore of Gerudo men being extremely rare and becoming the King of their people, which once again has a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications because it's 2023 and Nintendo has somehow gotten even worse about this shit.
But let's set aside the whole... everything, and look at this from just the in-universe perspective. How does it work? I mean, it's pretty clear that there is no overlap between the kings; the old ones are normally long gone by the time a new one is born, but the Gerudo manage to take care of themselves during the hangtime. So they must have an established system of government and leadership that doesn't involve a king, and somehow that system is set up in a way that does a smooth transfer of power once a new king is born and old enough to take the throne. But why bother always declaring a random guy to be your King when you already have a perfectly functional system in place?
I mean again, the whole thing has a lot of sexist implications, but we're not looking at this from a real world context, we're examining it in-universe. And we could just go the lazy route and say that their king is in charge just because he's the only man, but I don't like that. I mean come on, the Gerudo are a race of entirely women, and most of their outside problems come from Hylian men being creepy about it. They are entirely a matriarchy; there is literally no reason for their culture to have an inherent respect for men, even if the man in question is one of them. And they're desert people; they live in an extremely harsh and dangerous landscape, if they don't have their shit together, they will die. By sheer necessity, their culture needs to put a lot of value in being practical, because if they're stupid about things, people die. They really can't afford to have a shitty leader take over, and just letting some guy take the wheel doesn't really fit with the way their culture must otherwise work.
So again, why the fuck do they bother having a King?
I think it's mainly just a ceremonial position. Yes, if the guy is a good leader he'll be in charge, but if he isn't good at being a King or isn't interested in the job... fuck it, they've already got a functional government system that's been leading their people the whole time, why fix what isn't broken? The title of Gerudo King isn't about leadership or power. I think it's more about belonging. Because the Gerudo are a culture where every single one of them can be defined in the same way... and there is exactly one exception once a century. Men are considered to be inherently outsiders at the best of times, and more often they're enemies. A man born into this culture is a natural outsider; he is completely unique, and that means he doesn't really fit into his community. And well... when someone is fundamentally different from the rest of their community, they tend to be ostracized.
So I think that's why the position of Gerudo King exists. It isn't about them needing or even wanting a man to lead them. The title of King doesn't need to involve any leadership at all. It's about giving the man born every century a place in their society. It's a way of saying yes, you are one of us, you are a Gerudo, you belong here, you are wanted and you are loved.
The Gerudo know that every hundred years, one of their children will be fundamentally different from all of his peers. And so their society is built to ensure that a child who is completely different from them will still be loved and accepted. He will always have a place in their society. He doesn't need to earn their love, he has it just for existing. These are his people.
The title of Gerudo King isn't an inherent position of authority. It's a promise of acceptance.
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cardentist · 5 months
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op turned off reblogs on this post [Link], so I'm reposting this over here:
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it's Extremely Unfortunate that we're at the point in trans masc exclusionism where we have to be hyper vigilant against seemingly innocuous posts.
when the op of this post says "men" in this post she means trans men.
trans men who present masc before (and sometimes during and after) hrt are often clocked as butch lesbians, because they are seen as feminine bodies presenting masculinely.
while there Are cis men who present similarly to butch lesbians (there's a very famous meme about it), how many cis men do you know that are Actively Trying or Want to present like butch lesbians?
or how about the Not Insignificant Overlap between trans mascs And butch lesbians (and lesbians in general)? the amount of trans mascs who identified as lesbians before they knew, who sometimes continue to feel a connection to that community as they realize more about their identity.
when op says "transandrophobia truthers" are the exact group of people this post was made about he's talking about trans mascs. this is a post saying that Trans Mascs aren't The Real Thing. and more specifically, the "transandrophobia truther" dog whistle refers back to trans mascs who stand up for themselves. who want their trauma to be taken seriously, who want to be treated like equals within the community. [Link]
it is a derogatory term that was specifically created by exclusionists to belittle trans mascs who speak up for themselves. it is Explicitly About trans mascs, and yet it's a term that people who are unfamiliar with the harassment happening towards trans mascs won't recognize.
and the nasty thing about it is that op was Intentionally trying to make a jab to hurt and belittle trans mascs while Framing it as a support post for trans and lesbian women. people who don't Already Know are going to interact with this post thinking that it's Only a positivity post.
thinking that it's just a silly little post punching up at cishet society.
when it's transphobia pointed at trans masc people.
I've said it before, but all exclusionism on this site is the same. it's the Exact Same tactics used over and over and over again, just with different targets.
and you saw Exactly this technique with ace exclusion All The Time. make a post that seems silly and lighthearted on the surface, that's Worded like it's referring to a privileged group, so that people pass it around without thinking about it.
but the Undercurrent, is a coded message to hurt a specific minority group, to hurt the target that's Familiar Enough with their own exclusion to read the intended insult.
and by Coding It, by making it a dog whistle instead of making it explicit, it Seems like more people support their position than they do (furthering the feeling of isolation in their victims). and works to help Normalize their talking points as they slowly become more explicit (intending to convert more people).
with asexuals it was "cishets trying to invade queer spaces," with trans mascs it's "men trying to invade trans/women's spaces."
it's intuitive that queer people punch up at cishets, it's Intuitive that trans people and women punch up at men, and That's The Point.
if the op of this post hadn't Explicitly referred to trans mascs in the notes ("transandrophobia truthers"), then I probably wouldn't have figured out what they were doing. I would've felt put off by it (as I was intended to, as it was created with the explicit intent to make people like me feel uncomfortable), but I wouldn't have had reason to look further into it. I probably would've just brushed it off and moved on.
unfortunately the only way around it is hypervigilence (learning the dog whistles, familiarizing yourself with how exclusionists talk about their victims), and hoping that the hand was tipped somewhere. hoping that the people who do this give away what their real Intent was.
and it's frustrating because the Vast Majority of the notes on the original post are just people having fun. who saw a post about trans butch lesbians and got excited and happy. and it's So Gross to see someone weaponize that.
it's unfair that people Need to be hypervigilent about posts About Them. it's one of the more upsetting aspects About exclusionism.
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anyataylorjoys · 3 months
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Someone asked me how I created the fade transition in this gifset which I’ll try to explain in the most comprehensive way that I can. If you've never done something like this before, I suggest reading through the full tutorial before attempting it so you know what you'll need to plan for.
To follow, you should have:
basic knowledge of how to make gifs in photoshop
some familiarity with the concept of how keyframes work
patience
Difficulty level: Moderate/advanced
Prep + overview
First and foremost, make the two gifs you'll be using. Both will need to have about the same amount of frames.
For ref the gif in my example is 540x540.
I recommend around 60-70 frames max total for a big gif, which can be pushing it if both are in color, then I would aim for 50-60. My gif has a total of 74 frames which I finessed using lossy and this will be explained in Part 4.
⚠️ IMPORTANT: when overlaying two or more gifs and when using key frames, you MUST set your frame delay to 0.03 fps for each gif, which can be changed to 0.05 fps or anything else that you want after converting the combined canvas back into frames. But both gifs have to be set to 0.03 before you convert them to timeline to avoid duplicated frames that don't match up, resulting in an unpleasantly choppy finish.
Part 1: Getting Started
Drag one of your gifs onto the other so they're both on the same canvas.
The gif that your canvas is fading FROM (Gif 1) should be on top of the gif it is fading INTO (Gif 2).
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And here's a visual of the order in which your layers should appear by the end of this tutorial, so you know what you're working toward achieving:
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Part 2: Creating the grid
Go to: View > Guides > New guide layout
I chose 5 columns and 5 rows to get the result of 25 squares.
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The more rows and columns you choose, the more work you'll have to do, and the faster your squares will have to fade out so keep that in mind. I wouldn't recommend any more than 25 squares for this type of transition.
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To save time, duplicate the line you've created 3 more times, or as many times as needed (key shortcut: CMD +J) and move each one to align with the guides both horizontally and vertically. You won't need to recreate the lines on the edges of the canvas, only the ones that will show.
After you complete this step, you will no longer need the guides so you can go back in and clear them.
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Follow the same duplicating process for the squares with the rectangle tool using the lines you've created.
Align the squares inside the grid lines. The squares should not overlap the lines but fit precisely inside them.
This might take a few tries for each because although to the eye, the squares look all exactly the same size, you'll notice that if you try to use the same duplicated square for every single one without alterations, many of them will be a few pixels off and you'll have to transform the paths to fit.
To do this go to edit > transform path and hold down the command key with the control key as you move one edge to fill the space.
Once you're done, put all the squares in their separate group, which needs to be sandwiched between Gif 1 and Gif 2.
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Right click Gif 1 and choose "create clipping mask" from the drop down to mask it to the squares group. This step is super important.
After this point, I also took the opacity of the line groups down to about 40% so the lines wouldn't be so bold. Doing this revealed some squares that needed fixing so even if you aren't going dim the lines, I recommend clicking off the visibility of the lines for a moment to make sure everything is covered properly.
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Part 3A: Prep For Key framing
I wanted my squares to fade out in a random-like fashion and if you want the same effect, you will have to decide which squares you want to fade out first, or reversely, which parts of Gif 2 you want to be revealed first.
In order to see what's going on underneath, I made Gif 1 invisible and turned down the opacity of the squares group.
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If you want text underneath to be revealed when the squares fade away, I would add that now, and place the text group above Gif 2, but under the squares group.
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Make a mental note that where your text is placed and the order in which it will be revealed is also something you will have to plan for.
With the move tool, click on the first square you want to fade out. Every time you click on a square, it will reveal itself in your layers.
I chose A3 to be the first square to fade and I'm gonna move this one to the very top of all the other square layers.
So if I click on D2 next, that layer would need to be moved under the A3 layer and so on. You'll go back and forth between doing this and adding key frames to each one. As you go along, it's crucial that you put them in order from top to bottom and highly suggested that you rename the layers (numerically for example) which will make it easier to see where you've left off as your dragging the layers into place.
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Part 3B: Adding the Keyframes
This is where we enter the gates of hell things become tedious.
Open up the squares group in the timeline panel so you can see all the clips.
Here is my example of the general pattern that's followed and its corresponding layers of what you want to achieve when you're finished:
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So let’s try it!
Expand the control time magnification all the way to the right so you can see every frame per second.
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As shown in Part 3A, select your first chosen square.
Where you place the time-indicator on the panel will indicate the placement of the keyframe. Click on the clock next to opacity to place your first keyframe.
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Move the time-indicator over 3 frames and place the next key frame.
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Things to consider before moving forward:
Where you place your very first keyframe will be detrimental. If you're using a lot of squares like I did, you may have to start the transition sooner than preferred.
If you're doing 25 squares, the key frames will have to be more condensed which means more overlapping because more frames are required to finish the transition, verses if you're only using a 9-squared grid. See Part 4 for more detailed examples of this.
The opacity will remain at 100% for every initial key frame, and the second one will be at 0%.
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Instead of creating two keyframes like this and changing the opacities for every single clip, you can copy the keyframes and paste them onto the other clips by click-dragging your mouse over both of them and they'll both turn yellow. Then right click one of the keyframes and hit copy.
Now drop down to your next clip, move your time-indicator if necessary to the spot where the first keyframe will start and click the clock to create one. Then right click it and hit "paste".
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Tip: When you have both keyframes selected, you can also move them side to side by click-dragging one of them while both are highlighted.
Your full repetitive process in steps will go as follows:
click on square of choice on the canvas
drag that square layer to the top under the last renamed
in timeline panel: drop down to next clip, move time-indicator tick to your chosen spot for the next keyframe
create new keyframe
right click new keyframe & paste copied keyframes
repeat until you've done this with every square in the group
Now you can change the opacity of your squares layer group back to 100% and turn on the visibility of Gif 1. Then hit play to see the magic happen.
PART 4: Finished examples
Example 1
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the transition starts too soon Cause: initial keyframe was placed at frame 0
the squares fade away too quickly Cause: overlapping keyframes, seen below. (this may be the ideal way to go with more squares, but for only 9, it's too fast)
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Example 2
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more frame time for first gif
transition wraps up at a good point Cause: in this instance, the first keyframe was placed 9 frames in, and the keyframes are not overlapping. The sequential pair starts where the last pair ended, creating a slower fade of each square.
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Part 5: Final Tips and Saving
You can dl my save action here which will convert everything back into frames, change the frame rate to 0.05 and open the export window so you can see the size of the gif immediately.
If it's over 10gb, one way to finesse this is by use of lossy. By definition, lossy “compresses by removing background data” and therefore quality can be lost when pushed too far. But for most gifs, I have not noticed a deterioration in quality at all when saving with lossy until you start getting into 15-20 or higher, then it will start eating away at your gif so keep it minimal.
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If you've done this and your gif is losing a noticeable amount of quality and you still haven’t gotten it below 10gb, you will have no choice but to start deleting frames.
When it comes to transitions like this one, sometimes you can't spare a single frame and if this is the case, you will have to return to the timeline state in your history and condense the key frames to fade out quicker so you can shorten the gif. You should always save a history point before converting so you have a bookmark to go back to in case this happens.
That's pretty much it, free to shoot me an ask on here or on @jugheadjones with any questions.
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ash5monster01 · 2 months
Text
Piano Man
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Chapter Two - If I Only Had the Words (to Tell You) 🎶
Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader
Warnings: fluff, mentions of heartbreak, abandonment issues, emotional vulnerability, heart ache, established relationship
Summary: You and Steve have been dating for nearly 6 months, all of which he’s enjoyed. Yet it has been exactly a year since Nancy told him he was bullshit. So even though he desperately wants to tell you he loves you he’s afraid you might say he’s bullshit too.
word count: 2k
One ←→ Three
Masterlist
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Fall 1985
But I only have these arms to hold you
It’s a dark Fall night. The house smelling of popcorn you had popped earlier to watch during a movie. Halloween decorations had been plastered all over Steve’s home, a home that hadn’t been decorated for any holiday in a very long time. You had changed that though, changed him. You made not only this home full, but his heart. Which is why Steve lies beside you in his bed absolutely hating himself for not being able to tell you how he feels. How much he loves you, how much you had saved him these last six months.
You had been there for it all. Cheering in the stands when he graduated, taking your lunch break to visit him everyday at Scoops Ahoy, not getting jelous of his newfound friendship with Robin, taking care of him when the monsters returned and the mall burned down, and even helping him and Robin get hired at the video store where you had worked this entire time. Everytime he thought you'd leave, somehow you were still there, and he appreciated you for every bit of it. So why the hell couldn't he say it?
He knew why. He knew because everytime he looked at the plastic Halloween decorations filling his home he was brought right back to Tina's Halloween party. Right back to that very bathroom where the only girl he ever loved looked into his eyes and told him he was bullshit. It had been a year but he still remembered how devastated he was, how his heart felt as she ripped it straight from his chest. The look in her eyes was seared into his memory, devoid of any emotion but distate blazing in them. He couldn't relive that, wouldn't relive that. Especially with you.
He may have loved Nancy but with you it was different. With you, he knew you were going to be the one. The one person handcrafted specifically for him. A soul designed to match his own in a large and lonely world. Somehow he had found you and now he wouldn't do anything to risk it, he would guarantee it. It had hurt when Nancy said she didn't love him but if you did. Well that would kill him.
"What kind of candy do the kids like?" you ask in the dark bedroom, voice overlapping that of Billy Joel's from the cassette player. You're My Home played softly throughout the room and you wished Steve knew that was how you felt about him. That until now you were pretty sure you had nowhere to belong and now you belonged to him.
"Why do you ask?” Steve hums, hands reaching to run through your hair. He lived for nights like this, where you just laid here with legs tangled together and talked about things practically meaningless.
"Well I want to make them happy, I know how much they love Halloween. Dustin hasn't shut up about it all week and I want something to cheer Mike up. I know how badly they wanted to dress up as The Goonies but with Will and El gone they can't" you tell Steve, hand lacing with his own under the covers. Steve smiles softly at you and how much you care for the very kids he had taken under his own wing.
"I don't know what kind of candy they like, I'm sure whatever is fine. As for Mike, tell him we can be Andy and Brand. Maybe I can convince Robin to be Data or something" Steve tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The image of Robin in the Data costume meant for Will makes you giggle and Steve is pulling you closer, chest brushing against your own.
"You'd give up our Grease costume for that?" you ask, knowing how excited he was to be Danny Zuko and wear his leather jacket.
"Yeah but don't tell them that. They'll get big heads" Steve grumbles, practically hearing Dustin tease him about how much he loves all of them. You giggle against him and Steve warms over, feeling those very words sitting heavy on his chest. If only he had the words to tell you. He knew you were waiting, wondering why he hadn't said them. If you only had time to understand why he struggled with it so much. Everyone he ever loved left, if he said these words outloud he couldn't risk you leaving him too.
"You're the best Stevie" you tell him, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. Steve hums in delight, not allowing you to back away as he pulls you to his lips and kisses you quickly. He knows you love him, you only said things like that to replace those very words. If he would just say it your response would have been 'I love you Stevie'. Instead he gets broad statements that he has slowly come to despise.
"Yeah, yeah, best babysitter ever" he mumbles and you giggle because even though he pretends to hate it you know how much he loves it. How much he loves those kids. If he didn't he wouldn't spend time with them. One of those very kids was his ex girlfriend’s brother and he never let any of those things stop him. He was always there for them.
"Only the best can handle six kids at a time" you tell him and Steve searches your eyes, loving how when you look at them they’re filled with adoration instead of hate. He knows not saying anything won't change your feelings and you will carry on loving him without it. He just couldn't bring himself to say it, the urge never there even though he was practically dying inside to tell you. He wished you knew how hard it is to say.
Sometimes when he finds himself even close he feels silly. I love you seemed too simple to portray the love he had for you. It was so basic, a word your heard on the radio over and over again. Every song as simple as the last. How unoriginal were his words when the radio repeats them every single day? Even with his love for Billy Joel he figures he'll never find a song to sing you. One that perfectly depicted exactly how he felt about you. He doesn't want to sing those tired words again, words he wasted on people who never loved him back.
“You ever think about having kids?” Steve asks, leaning back into the pillow and staring at his ceiling. You admire the soft tufts of his hair on his chest, the way his bicep flexes as he reaches to tuck his hand under his head. He’s so handsome and it should scare you that your boyfriend of only six months has suddenly asked you about having kids and yet you don’t seem to mind.
“All the time” you tell him earnestly, snuggling into his side and grazing your fingers along his sternum, grinning when he shivers from your touch.
“I want to have a whole bunch, make me feel better about being an only child” Steve says, his hand pressed to your back slowly sliding up and into your hair.
“What do you mean, make you feel better?” you ask, lifting your head to glance at the boys face as he continues to be deep in thought.
“I was a lonely kid, my parents never really cared to pay any attention and without any siblings or cousins I was left to my own devices. I think it’s half the reason I was such an asshole in high school” he says, almost wincing at the thought of how many people he had treated like shit over the years just to guarantee he wouldn’t be all alone.
“You were protecting yourself” you say, understanding exactly what he means and Steve nods, eyes glancing down at your form.
“I want my kids to have built in friends and even better, present parents” he tells you and suddenly you find yourself wanting nothing more than to have kids with the boy beside you.
“You’ll be the best Dad Steve, I just know it” you tell him and there are those words again, sitting on his tongue and begging to escape but he just can’t seem to let them go. He hates himself for it, looking away before you see the regret in his eyes.
“I hope so, I just wish my Grandpa was still around to see it” he says, thinking of the only person in his life who ever really liked him for him when he was growing up. The man who had heaven sent you straight to him when he needed you the most.
“He is, don’t you worry about that Stevie” you tell him, eyes fluttering close as you listen to cassette playing in the room. The boombox clicked, indicating the start of a new song. Worse Comes to Worst slowly filling the room.
“Oh worse comes to worst. I’ll get along” you start singing the melody into the dark night air, the fall breeze fluttering in from the window and brushing against the curtains.
“I don’t know how, but sometimes - I can be strong” Steve starts singing along with you and suddenly your both giggling into the night, sharing a love for one another and a love for Billy Joel. The very man that had brought you two together.
“Do you ever get sick of listening to him?” Steve asks and you know he’s asking you about Billy Joel. You shake your head softly against his chest, gazing into those hazel eyes.
“No, he reminds me of you. Makes me feel close to you no matter where I am. Yet I suppose that’s exactly how he makes you feel about your Grandpa” you say, voice humming along the boys ribs.
“Yeah but now he reminds me of you too” Steve admits and you smile before leaning up and capturing his lips in your own. When you had approached the sad boy in the record store you never would have imagined it would bring you here.
"I'm gonna try and sleep" you tell the boy, snuggling closer and allowing your heavy eyelids to close. Steve smiles softly and presses another kiss to your forehead. He knows life goes on and tonight will soon be gone. Another missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels. His wished he had the words to tell you but instead he only has his arms to hold you, pulling you closer into him. It's really all you can ask of any man, to be held with such love even if he won't say it.
"Goodnight Rosy" he mutters, 'I love you' he says in his head. He knows disappointment swells in your chest, having been by his side for six months and waiting to know exactly how he felt about you. The only noise in the dark room now is the voice of Billy Joel and your soft breathing. He pulls you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms. When he’s sure you’re asleep he tells you.
"I love you Rosy, I really do. Just please don't give up on me, I promise I want to say it. You deserve to know just how much I adore you but every person I've ever loved has left me. I know you won't but I need time for my head to catch up with my heart. Until then, if I only had the words to tell you..."
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runesandramblings · 1 year
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I Just Want You
Word Count: 1400
Pairings: Fili x reader
Warnings: None
Description: Royal wedding plans begin to take their toll, but there's only one thing you require to make the day perfect.
Requested by anon so I don't have a way to tag you I'm sorry! But I hope you enjoy. 😇
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“What do you think, nâtha? The lilies or the orchids?” 
You buried your face in your hands. The pounding against your temples, something that had become a familiar sensation as of late, began to worsen as you tried to piece together any coherent sentence. There were only three words that came to mind, the same three words you’d uttered countless times over the past several weeks. 
“I don’t know.” 
The joy of yours and Fili’s engagement had subsided the moment you’d broken the news to your families. With FIli being the crown prince and heir, there was no way Dis and your mother would let it be a simple affair. Invitations had already been sent out to every corner of Middle Earth, and you’d been occupied from sunup to sundown every day with planning. The dress, the flowers, the food… 
You were from a simple merchant family. The pomp and ceremony of royalty made no sense to you. Where you’d grown up, weddings were a simple affair. Most couples in your small village chose to elope rather than go through the bother of an elaborate ceremony. You’d have been more than happy to do the same. However, your mother and future mother in law had both been quick to dismiss the idea. 
“It’s no matter, dear. We have time to decide.” Your mother pulled several small scraps of fabric, ranging from the purest snow white to the creamier shades of ivory. She laid them out against the table and gestured to each. “Which color do you think for the dress? We’ve got to begin sewing soon if it will be ready in time.” 
Before you had the chance to respond, Dis laid out several different styles of gold and silver fabric beside the scraps your mother had laid down. 
“And what of the trim? You’ve got to decide if you prefer gold accents or silver. But I do suppose that would have an effect on the choice of flowers…” She trailed off, lost in her own world of thought. 
You could feel your pulse radiating against your temples as the migraine that had been forming worsened. This was the issue exactly. It wasn’t just selecting a dress. It was selecting a type of fabric, a trim, lace… And that had to coordinate with the flowers or else…
Or else what, exactly? Would the world cease to exist if the flowers and trim didn’t go together? Would Mahal himself descend from the sky if the food and the wine didn’t pair perfectly? 
You looked from where you sat at the head of the long, carved wood table to the opposite end. Fili sat on his own, silently working through a stack of parchments Thorin had given him. He hadn’t been overly involved in the plans, as your mothers had taken over almost immediately. But you’d expressed to him how stressful the process had been, and he’d decided to come sit with you for moral support. He met your gaze and gave you a gentle smile. It sent butterflies through your stomach, as it always did. He was all you needed, truly. You could get married in the same, tattered old dress he’d met you in carrying a bouquet of wildflowers for all you cared. As long as he was there, it was all you required.
“(Y/N)?” 
Your mother’s voice brought you back to the less desirable reality. She and Dis were both staring at you expectantly, the colored swatches of cloth still spread out across the table in front of you. 
“Silver or gold-”
“First, she has to decide on a shade of white. Which shade do you prefer, (Y/N)?” 
“Well it might help to decide on the accent first, then she can pick a white that goes with that.” 
As Dis and your mother began speaking over each other you buried your face in your hands once again. The pounding against your temples became rhythmic, a steady thump that seemed to grow louder and louder as their voices overlapped. You felt as though you might go mad if the pounding and the questions didn't stop soon.
“(Y/N)-” Dis started. 
“I don’t know!” You cried again, finally raising your head to look at the two of them. “I don’t know, okay? And I don’t care. Just pick a color. Whatever you both want.” 
You flung yourself back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. It was unlike you to have such an outburst, but you were exhausted. There were too many questions, too many decisions. You’d be more than happy for them to make the choices and just tell you when and where to show up on the day of. 
“And what do you want, amrâlimê?” 
The three of you turned your attention to the end of the table as Fili piped up. He’d laid his parchments to the side. His eyes were not on either of your mothers, but on you. You could see the genuine concern etched in the lines that furrowed between his brows. He knew the planning had begun to take a toll, and now he was able to see the full amount of stress that you were under. 
You felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes. 
“I just want you.” You said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. 
Your mothers exchanged shameful glances across the table, finally seeming to realize just how much they’d piled on you at once. FIli’s expression softened as he continued to look at you, his eyes never breaking away to look at anyone else in the room.
“Could you leave us for a moment?” He asked. 
Dis and your mother stood silently, collecting the fabric and other wedding items they’d strewn across the table. You felt Dis place a hand apologetically on your shoulder as she followed your mother from the room. 
Once they’d gone Fili’s smile widened. He extended his hand to you, gesturing for you to come join him at the end of the table. You stood and quickly walked around to where he sat. Once you were within his arm’s reach he grabbed you, pulling you down by your waist and plopping you into his lap. As soon as your legs touched his he stretched his face up to your neck, peppering light kisses up and down your collarbones. You giggled as his mustache braids tickled the exposed skin of your neck, his lips working their way up to plant kisses along your cheeks. He finally found your mouth and pressed his delicately against yours, making it the gentlest and sweetest kiss of them all. 
You felt a contented sigh escape your lips as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. You rested your chin on top of his head as your fingers began to slowly brush through his hair, careful as always not to disturb his perfectly placed braids. The feeling of his arms wrapped snugly around your waist had already alleviated the nervous pit in your stomach, and you wondered how it could have only been moments ago that you were stressed to the point of breaking down in tears. He was your safe place, your calm within the storm. 
“We don’t have to make it into a spectacle, you know.” He murmured into the collar of your dress. “It can just be the two of us, whenever and wherever you want.” 
“We can’t.” You said, wistfully. If only it were that simple. 
“And who says so?” 
“You’re the prince-”
“To hell with that.” He said, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “Thorin’s already given his blessing for us to skip the whole affair.” 
“But our mothers-”
“To hell with them too.” His expression quickly changed from confidence to one of fear as he looked over his shoulder. “Don’t tell them I said that.” 
You giggled again, pulling him closer to you as he nuzzled his face into your neck once more. 
“Amrâlimê, I will go get Balin right now and have him perform the ceremony in this very room.” He continued. “I don’t need the flowers or the food or the party. I just want you, too.” 
You pulled back again, just enough to look down into his eyes. He was smiling up at you, his eyes sparkling with the same joy as they had the first day you met. He was all you needed, now and forever. 
“I think that sounds absolutely perfect.” You said, brushing back a few loosened strands of his golden hair. “On one condition.”
He looked at you expectantly as you continued. 
“You have to tell our mothers.”
nâtha - daughter
amrâlimê - my love
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soulprompts · 9 months
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an unexpected arrival. (A PROMPT LIST!)
so a lovely anonymous angel asked for a list of prompts relating to an unexpected pregnancy, and i made a list! i have two other lists over on my other blog that i'm gonna reblog over here, but there may be some slight overlap with these; however, unlike the other two lists, these focus exclusively on the unexpected part. DON'T ADD TO THIS LIST, DON'T CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN! but do have a tonne of fun with them!
" so, remember last week, when i had the flu and i couldn't leave my house? turns out it wasn't the flu. i'm pregnant. "
" i'm telling you about this baby because you deserve to know. that's all. i don't expect anything from you. i don't need you to step up or whatever. i just thought you ought to know. "
" i'm sure you don't need to be reminded, but... getting pregnant wasn't exactly part of the whole life plan. "
" you're sure? i mean, you did the test properly? maybe it was a false positive. or, or maybe you didn't read the results right... "
" a baby... well. that certainly complicates things, doesn't it? "
" i don't even know if i want kids. "
" could you please just stop reminding me that this isn't part of the plan?! you think i don't know that?! we're having a baby, i'm terrified enough without you reminding me! "
" look. i'm/you're not the first person to get pregnant, and i/you won't be the last. we're gonna figure it out, alright? "
" my place isn't even close to being big enough for a baby... they need so much stuff. cribs, prams, diaper stations... and my neighbors complain enough as it is, they'll evict me if i have a screaming baby as well... "
" hey... why don't you move in with me? i've got plenty of space, and my walls are thick, so the baby could scream as loud as they want. you could stay as long as you like. "
" should... we get married? i mean, that's what you do, isn't it? when someone's having a baby? "
" okay, we're not getting married. i mean, i appreciate the gesture, but... there's plenty of single parents out there. what's one more, right? "
" god... we are so stupid. i mean, seriously! any idiot knows that condoms aren't 100% effective! if we're dumb enough to forget that, how are we meant to look after a baby?! "
" you... you're kidding, right? this is a joke? it's a fake pregnancy test, some weird, slightly out of touch belated april fool's prank? "
" it's honestly insane that we didn't figure it out sooner... i mean, those were some wild cravings, right? "
" when you say late... do you mean like, a few days? or are we talking... months? "
" no, no, this... it changes everything. EVERYTHING. i... i don't know if i'm ready for this, i don't think i'm parent material, i... "
" hey. you're not alone. you got that? it takes a village, right? i'm gonna help you every step of the way. we all will. this kid, if you choose to go through with it... they'd be okay. "
" you know i support you. whatever choice you end up making. i will always be by your side. okay? "
" if this is some weird idea of a joke, i have to tell you, it's not funny. i mean, you're having a baby AND i'm somehow the dad? a little much, no? "
" no, i want to step up. it took two of us to make this baby, and i want to make sure you know that, if you go ahead with this, there's gonna be two of us to raise them, too. "
" the father doesn't believe that the baby is his. "
" okay. so screw the father. i'm going to be here to help you. okay? we'll parent this kid so well, they'll never want to know who their real dad is. "
" so... you wanna tell me who the father is? "
" the surprise baby is actually not just one baby. we're having twins/triplets/etc. "
" hey, hey... don't worry, okay? it's alright. it's all going to be okay. condoms break, yeah? it's no biggie... "
" what do you mean, you think?! haven't you taken a pregnancy test yet? "
" that's a lot of pregnancy books you got there... got something you want to tell me? "
" have you told the father yet? "
" i guess, seeing how you rushed over here so fast to tell me the news, that you think the baby is mine? "
" look, we both made plans, right? and obviously shit happens, but... a baby is a pretty massive deal. "
" how many other people have you told about the pregnancy? "
" what do you want to do? "
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godsandvillains-if · 3 months
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How would the ROs react to seeing a supposed 'Hickey' on MC's neck, and how would they react if they come to know it's not a Hickey but something else like an alien insect bite that looks a lot worse than it is lol? Both crushing and relationship stage answers if it is okay! I hope you have a lovely day author! ❤️
Ohhhh, me loves some jealous scenarios. This is a big one, so enjoy 🤣🤣
Stardom — Crush Stage: Stardom would try not to feel the ugly sensation of jealousy but would fail terribly. The Golden Hero of New York is not supposed to feel jealous, more so for someone who is nothing but a friend to them. And then their feelings for Archon would overlap with the jealousy… I see them being a little bit rude with the MC, and feeling extremely guilty after.
Romance Stage: In a relationship, I think they would first try to find an explanation for the hickey. Maybe they were a little too rough the night before? They do like to mark the MC from time to time, but the deep purple bruise on their neck is a little concerning; they don't remember ever being that rough...
Archon — Crush Stage: I think in the crushing stage, Archon would be more confused about their feelings than anything. Why are they itching to ask the MC about the bloody hickey on their neck? And why does just thinking about it makes them want to pulverize the bastard that placed it there?
Romance Stage: They would probably ask the MC about it outright, since they have no memory of placing the hickey on their neck, and they do remember every love bite they give the MC. But their tone wouldn't be accusatory or anything, more like curious. Besides, they would know if the MC was lying by their heartbeat.
Zodiac — Crush Stage: Zodiac would just pretend that everything was fine and that they didn't notice the massive hickey on their student's neck. They would keep repeating that word over and over in their head—student, they are your student—trying not to feel the coiled snake of jealousy in their stomach.
Romance Stage: Zodiac would probably be performing a complex spell or ritual, and when their eyes landed on the hickey, it would just fizzle out to nothing. Their concentration gone entirely. They would try really hard not to jump to conclusions, so they would first cast a subtle diagnoser spell, and for their immediate relief—not really because a freaking alien bug just bit the MC—it would not be a hickey.
Paladin — Crush Stage: Would stare, like a frozen statue, until the MC risked noticing it. They would feel the cold and familiar feeling of rejection washing over their body as they got as far as possible. There's a reason why they were called a "guard dog" by their past handler: faithfully loyal until the end, but unable to voice any displeasure they might be feeling.
Romance Stage: At this stage, Paladin would've learned a little bit better how to express themselves, maybe not through words exactly, but the MC would be familiar with their body language to know what they were thinking. They would probably just softly touch the place where the hickey was and silently ask what happened. More concerned that it hurt than other possibilities.
Mars — Crush Stage: You never met someone as possessive as them, and the MC would feel the full might of their jealousy. They are not as good as they think they are at hiding their true feelings, at least not when the MC is involved. In the end, it would take a lot for them to keep their hands and powers to themselves.
Romance Stage: If there was anyone else in the room when they saw the hickey, they would surely hightail out of there in a second. Mars wouldn't even think that the bruise was anything other than a bruise. Someone hurt what's theirs. They would question the MC with only one word: "Who?" And they would make the bastard regret ever being born. Even if it's just a mosquito. 😡
Ace — Crush Stage: Ace would be completely distraught, having probably been planning for weeks to ask the MC on a proper, old-fashioned date. And then Zodiac would have to bear the brunt of Ace's tearful laments about how they were so stupid that they would have any chance with the MC, until Zodiac finally lost their patience and, in the most fond tone ever, said, "It was just a bug bite, you idiot. Go ask them out already."
Romance Stage: Would probably go into a spiral of self-deprecating thoughts of not being worth it or something like that. Ace would have to force themselves to think rationally about the situation, they are the most decorated detective in the country for a reason. After analyzing all the facts, they would eventually just ask the MC what bit them. 🤨
Wildcat — Crush Stage: Would bite down on their bottom lip so hard that the MC would have to ask them what's wrong and for them to stop before they ended up hurting themselves. Wildcat in stressful situations just nervous shift to whatever animal can get them away faster from the situation, so they would just into a cat and scarper away. Perhaps to cry on Paladin's lap.
Romance Stage: Would get as close as possible to MC's neck, as obnoxiously as possible, too. Wildcat wouldn't even think about the possibility of the bruise being a hickey, most likely, they shifted in their sleep—something like a damn vampire bat. They are not proud of it, but it definitely happened before. 
Thank you for the question!! 🥰
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chiscribbs · 4 months
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Some miscellaneous doodles for ACT I of my Grown Apart AU!
If you squint, you can get a little context for the plot. ... If you don't feel like squinting, however, here are some convenient notes I've included about what's going on in each image:
(top left -> bottom middle)
Donnie hides his spidertech underneath a specially designed tailcoat that he made himself. The back has two openings on either side, hidden by an overlapping layer of fabric, from where the mechanical legs extend. Naturally, each spider leg hides a multitude of secret functions, most of which no one else but him knows about (not even Big Mama.)
Raph thinks Draxum's new prisoner/test subject, who he's been instructed to keep an eye on (no trouble there!), is just the cutest thing ever.
Leo and Mikey experience the joys of a two-child-household. When the little sibling is bored, no one else is allowed to know peace.
When Draxum joins sides with the Foot Clan, Raph is forced to work alongside humans for the first time. Draxum's always taught him that humans are the enemy of the yokai and that they need to be destroyed, so he's a bit...conflicted about this new development.
In an attempt to prove his usefulness to Big Mama - Donnie enters the Hamato residence as a spy, under the pretense of being an escapee of Big Mama's prisons (is it really all pretense, though?) He manages to win the ever-optimistic Mikey over with little trouble, but Leo is not as easily convinced and remains suspicious of the purple-clad "yokai's" intentions.
Big Mama can't risk losing her best engineer and mechanic to the above world as she did her champion all those years ago. So, she takes every necessary precaution to ensure Dontavius (Donnie) remains under her thumb, exactly where she needs him to be. After all, Mama knows best ❤
Splinter searches for his two lost sons, ninja style - Leo and Mikey are still too young to be left at the lair by themselves, so he's had to improvise.
A little clue as to how April first meets the boys - Leo and Mikey, that is - in this AU.
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