#But also less than ten days left and I think I might actually make it to the end! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cerisahh · 4 months

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WHAT'S YOUR HANDLE!

SYNOPSIS ꒱ social media/internet headcanons for the saiki k characters.

CHARACTERS INCLUDED ꒱ saiki, kaidou, aren, nendou, toritsuka, hairo, teruhashi, aiura, yumehara, mera, rifuta

NOTE ꒱ i love the saiki k characters so much they’re like a fond memory.

KUSUO SAIKI

• surprisingly, saiki has social media.

• private account, of course. 0 posts, 0 followers, 0 following, (12 follow requests which he will never accept).

• claims it helps him be percieved as 'average' (he's keeping tabs on his friends those nuisances that follow him around).

• enjoys baking videos! when he finds a recipe he likes, him and his mother will make it together.

• he's one of those people who use perfect punctuation and grammar whilst typing. never turned off auto-capitalisation.

• dry texter by choice, not by chance. he's less dry when he's speaking online to someone he actually likes, but not by much (by less dry, you get a sentence instead of a one-word answer).

• leaves everyone on delivered most of the time.

• tried changing his number multiple times, but someone always manages to get hold of it so he just gave up.

SHUN KAIDOU

• no one wants to say it so i will. he uses wattpad.

• tried to use ao3/fanfiction.net but found it too difficult so he stuck to his roots.

• he would definetly write paragraphs upon paragraphs of the lore of the-jet-black-wings and dark reunion, as well as the origins of the power sealed within his right arm (black beat) and why it is DETRIMENTAL that this power is never unleashed or stolen by evil.

• everyone in the comments think that it's just a cool original story idea.

• absolutely inserts his friends as original characters in his lore. i might make a whole seperate post about this.

• he also uses reddit. where else is he going to get story ideas?

• has these apps pin locked and hidden in his phone, on the off-chance his mother decides to look through it.

• ABSOLUTELY plays roblox, his username is something cringe he made when he was ten (like the rest of us), refuses to change it. account is -13 for some reason.

• he has spent a lot of money on roblox. a troubling amount.

• types in lowercase, except when he's talking to his mother, then it's all punctuation and manners.

AREN KUBOYASU

• still purchases burner phones even though his gangster days are over. old habits die hard.

• uses an ipad more often than not.

• plays roblox with kaidou, is a bacon hair. his messages constantly get filtered because he still doesn't realise you can't swear on roblox. warned almost everyday - on the verge of being banned.

• watches motorcycle tiktoks, it's literally all his fyp is. the comments he leaves are usually just questions relating to the specs of the bikes.

• is the member of the group that pays for netflix and disney+ and lets everyone leech off of him.

• reformed aren posts pictures of his friends and himself, it's actually a really normal page - which is his goal.

• pre-reformed aren would just post videos of him flexing, and all of his fights. there's a lot of fights.

• also: mullet pics.

• is on reddit SOLELY for the purpose of biker groups. could probably write a thesis on an single engine part. probably has. don't ask him to show you.

RIKI NENDOU

• this guy BARELY knows how to operate a phone, let alone the internet.

• only really uses his phone to google stuff and talk to his buddies.

• nendou... is so bad at spelling... like... SO bad.

• half the time nobody can decipher his messages it's just that horrendous.

• uses emojis, but doesn't open the emoji tab?? so he'll type the emoji he wants and then leave the word prompt in the message?? (ex: 'ramen 🍜 after school 🏫 ?')

• made a seperate account for koriki no.2 but just uses it as his own.

• his first time posting a picture of himself one of those ⓘ - generated by ai messages was under it. THEY THINK HE’S TOO UGLY TO BE REAAALL.

• unintelligible comments left on everything he sees.

• also likes everything he sees. his fyp/explore pages are filled with nonsense. nothing makes sense.

• there are a lot of cute animal videos though - this is a recurring theme.

REITA TORITSUKA

• sigh.

• falls for those ads that are like: 'horny women in the area ready to fuck'.

• REALLY?? WHERE?

• has a lot of malware downloaded without his knowledge.

• a reddit troll, there's no doubt about it. he LIVES to piss people off on that site. think colin robinson in that one episode (this is a niche reference).

• i regret to inform everyone, but before omegle shut down... he was a regular.

• probably has several failed business ideas. also has probably invested in cryptocurrency, bragged about his newfound riches, lost his newfound riches due to the market collapsing, and the cycle continues.

• says outrageous things on twitter. outrageous. one might even go as far as to say heinous.

• probably has hate pages made about him.

KINESHI HAIRO

• without a doubt has a gym bro tiktok account, might be a disciple of joey swoll.

• reposts those 'before and after' gym pictures with messages of congratulations to the person - he's so sweet. >_<

• probably has a couple thousand followers, a lot of people from his local gym follow him.

• contrary to popular belief, he doesn't type with caps on all the time. keeps auto capitalisation on and uses a lot of exclamation marks though.

• is the person who created the class groupchat. and the group chat of the ENTIRE school year. he literally added EVERYONE to it.

• follows everyone? like... people don't even know how he knows everyone but he does?? (he's just really friendly).

• there's multiple videos that he's tagged in of him doing kind things for people, hairo is such a sweetheart guys.

• uses his platform to give fitness advice to people. there's a lot of motivational quotes plastered on his accounts.

KOKOMI TERUHASHI

• of course teruhashi has social media, how else will she broadcast her beauty?

• she has SO many message requests, dedicates hours a day to respond to them to maintain her 'perfect pretty girl' status.

• posts once every week at a scheduled time, get's thousands of likes without fail.

• has a finsta for her close friends.

• doesn't have tiktok but somewhow still has fan accounts on there. and on every other site.

• is really into conspiracy theories, although she won't publicise this or her stance on anything either. she must remain neutral.

• her @'s and tags are mostly full of her fans taking pictures with/of her. she appreciates it, of course! but it's still strange...

• has her brother blocked (thank god).

• has numerous ootd highlights, the people eat it up everytime.

MIKOTO AIURA

• chronic pinterest addict

• unironically uses yubo (she needs help)

• her instagram highlights are so fun to go through, it's messy but it's a hot mess

• posts A LOT, like multiple times a day

• consumes a lot of yoga/meditation media.

• a lot of her media intake is different subcultures of gyaru (obviously), but she's really into haute couture.

• she actually streams on twitch sometimes, mostly to do online readings for people - she also does makeup tutorials and posts fashion advice!

• has also been banned by twitch several times for bypassing terms of service. (it's not her fault that the admins are sensitive).

• her most used app is probably spotify. has ayesha erotica in most of her playlists.

• she has a seperate account for her business, she posts newly decorated crystal balls each week and does free weekly readings in order to promote herself.

CHIYO YUMEHARA

• runs a semi-popular baking yt, (which saiki follows, to the knowledge of no one)

• used to post gacha life love story videos.

• might be the only person who knows about kaidous secret wattpad account (bar saiki obviously), reads everything he writes and inserts herself into his scenarios.

• types all cutesy and uses emoticons like there is no tomorrow

• 'hai hai everyone!! (^_^)' <- for example.

• buys sketchy stuff off aliexpress that promise the most ludicrous results (ex: she buys fat burning/slimming creams and expects them to give her a perfect beach body, gets confused when it gives her a rash and then buys more).

• has an etsy shop and makes custom jewellery (makes it free for her friends and leaves it in their desks with a custom note, it's very wholesome).

• her notes app is under LOCK AND KEY. that shit is more secure than the nuclear codes.

CHISATO MERA

• doesn't have a phone. can't even afford gas and electric, let alone internet. is poor.

• BUT IF SHE WASN'T!!

• would join giveaways even if they're obviously fake. she's desperate.

• miraculously end up WINNING ONE?? she gets flown out to be featured in one of those obnoxious youtubers videos and comes back with a fat paycheck and ridiculously expensive electronics (which she eventually sells, probably to pay the rent).

• is a reoccurring guest on yumehara's yt channel, as a taste-tester, obviously.

• was also meant to critique the food but she rates everything a 10/10 so was not very useful.

• her most used app? let's all be honest with ourselves, it's a food delivery one.

• has the most games downloaded out of everyone, mostly to entertain her siblings when they're bored.

IMU RIFUTA

• has a really cute and aesthetic tumblr - yet somewhow doesn't know what fanfiction is?

• dear god this girl uses everskies. she ABSOLUTELY uses everskies. has been banned several times.

• has so many throwaway accounts. like it breaches fifty, it's getting to be a problem.

• definitely argues with people on public forums, you can't convince me that this girl doesn't have festering anger building up inside her, arguing online is like a rage room for her.

• her phone layout is one of those aesthetic pink ones, she spent hours on it. hours.

• this girl is a MASTER stalker. has every social media under the sun, even the ones nobody has heard about in years.

• is unnervingly good at editing photos and videos.

• her alts are constantly getting suspended for harassment. has anonymously harassed saiki multiple times (he knows its her).

• everything she posts is really over-the-top with cutesy filters, like, blindingly so.

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wantonlywindswept · 21 days

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adopted baby Guard Din idea that I am never going to write

because it would involve logistics and quiet moments and idle life which I am very down for reading but cannot for the LIFE of me actually sit down and write

So the war ends, Palps is outed as a Sith and an asshole and dies somehow, and the Senate eventually decides that the clones do count as people and thus are allowed to leave the GAR if they want. Give the bureaucrats another few years and they might even give out backpay and citizenship, so long as you stay in the service--wait what do you mean the entire Guard is resigning. What do you mean they've already left orbit?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NOW MILLIONS OF FILES ON THE HOLONET ABOUT THE SENATE'S SHADY DEALINGS???

Guard, collectively: lol cya suckers

Fox is of course one of the last ones out, and since this was all planned on the down low, everyone's been split into groups so they can take commercial flights, since they're not about to be accused of stealing ships. (They also leave their weapons and their armor behind, in a giant macabre pile in the middle of Corrie HQ. Even their helmets, their faces, they discard: it's time for a rebirth.)

He and Thorn and a few other Corries have a stopover on some tiny station, waiting a week for a delayed transport to arrive, and in the meantime they're approached by some locals who just fled the planet below. Separatist remnants attacked their homes, forcing them to leave everything and everyone behind; can the big strong clones do anything about it?

The Big Strong Clones: Oh shit we finally get to kick some Seppie ass? Sign us the FUCK up.

The eager group does not include Fox, who could not care less about the Separatists and would very much like to finally catch up on his sleep. Unfortunately that means that the group that goes down to the planet is Unsupervised.

(Thorn does not count as supervision. Thorn, bereft of Senate oversight, has finally allowed his Inner Chaos Gremlin to fully emerge. Thorn needs more supervision than the shinies.)

Thorn, three days later, waking Fox from half-hearted sleep by dropping an entire natborn child on him: Hey boss, look what we found! None of the refugees claimed him, so we called dibs. Can we keep him? Fox, staring at the child: ...

Din, staring back: ...

Fox: ...no..?

Din: *sad but understanding big brown eyes*

Fox: Nevermind this is my child now.

Din has gone from two parents to one parent and hundreds of overprotective brothers.

Eventually his group makes it to their destination, Din in tow. I am uncertain of what the destination is but it is a planet that is as far away from Coruscant that the Corries could find. I am tempted for Tatooine not because I like Tatooine (I share Anakin's loathing of sand and deserts) but because Luke's description of Tatooine in ANH was 'if there's a bright center to the universe, this is the planet the furthest from'.

Corries, hearing that: Fuck it sounds perfect.

Anyway they make it to Tatooine, there is probably purchasing of some shitty land/buildings that nobody wants out in the wastes bc crime, scum, villainy, etc, but it's not like they have problems taking care of anything that tries to mess with them.

Where did they get the funds?

Shh don't ask about it.

Stone takes up moisture farming. Thire takes up farming-farming. Thorn shoots gleefully at anything that shows up unannounced within a ten-mile radius. Literally everybody dotes on Din. There are a surprising amount of peaceful days.

Eventually some dumb shiny goes: Hey don't kids need friends? Shouldn't we set up some playdates for him or something?

The shiny is not called dumb for asking the question, but they are called dumb for thinking that the question would only ever be taken rhetorically. Fox disappears for two weeks and then comes back with a black eye and a yowling hissing Boba tucked under one arm, looking stupidly pleased with himself.

(Boba is also pleased to be back with people he knows will keep him safe. Boba will not admit to this under threat of death or dismemberment. Boba is a SERIOUS SCARY ADULT BOUNTY HUNTER.)

Boba also decides he will be Mortal Enemies with Din, which after about ten minutes of meeting him morphs into If Anyone Hurts Din I Will Kill Everyone In This Room And Then Myself because all clones be the same, really.

Din has gained another brother/bestie. (Or potential future boyfriend, whichever floats your boat.)

Somehow they still end up overthrowing the Hutts.

Officially the GAR knew and knows nothing about the Guard leaving Coruscant as soon as the metaphorical paint was dry on their sentient status.

Unofficially Fox's batch harangues him every single day for photos of his new kid(s). They eventually show up unannounced, demanding time with their nephew. (They are shot at by Thorn.)

Din gains five new uncles.

The batch proudly show pics and holos to their battalions. Din gains millions of new uncles.

Fox finally gets a full night's sleep.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #din djarin #coruscant guard #someone else should write that #tho tbh it's mostly written here just in rambling infodump form #btw this is half-inspired bc red is both baby din and fox's color #din is nonverbal for a little while because Trauma #and gets nicknamed 'Kit'#Fox refuses to be pleased about this #Fox is extremely smugly pleased about this

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revletter · 4 months

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How does Geno sleep?

GASP. An inbox ask about something I already can't shut up about? AND an excuse to glow-up some more old art?! 🤩

In my headcanon:

Badassery notwithstanding, Geno often just sleeps like a sweet little doll. It feels natural and comfortable - after all, long before he ever borrowed it, it spent almost every night sitting like this.

Also, lying down felt a bit too vulnerable for a while. Especially at the beginning of his adventure. In fact, he got a TERRIBLE first impression of anything resembling unconsciousness - so terrible that for his entire first week on the planet, he didn't sleep at all.

And then he discovered sleep is actually… lovely.

Here's a little bullet point story about that! 😊 [oops, it actually got pretty long, haha... hope you enjoy it!]

Geno Versus Sleep

During that first big fight, Bowyer sent a wall of electricity crashing toward ♡♪!? and the two people who had shown up out of the blue to fight by his side. Before it even hit, he knew it would be too much. He heard Mario's shout, Bowyer's mocking laugh, then dimly felt the impact of his borrowed form against the ground.

The next instant, he found himself alone in a blank, dark, starless void. This was new. And… not good. ♡♪!?'s mind was still very much aware, but he couldn't see, hear, feel, perceive anything. All he knew was that he was still in the doll's body.

Then a harrowing realization dawned on him. With almost all of his magic tethered to a body that wasn't working, he didn't have enough left to escape it…

[Continued under the cut]

Seconds later, there came a feeling almost as jarring: a sudden, wild, violent propulsion back into his senses. The first sense to return was a gaggingly sour taste. Then the unmistakable pain of his injuries knitting back together. Then a voice saying "Good morning! You okay?" - then the blurry sight of Mallow's face. Geno was just as disoriented as he had been when he'd first commandeered the doll.

He quickly learned this feeling was a Pick-Me-Up.

Cool.

He inwardly decided to avoid all of that mess involved in being less than conscious - at least when he had a choice in it.

His first full night on the planet, he kept watch all night long. And the second, and the third. Mario and Mallow became increasingly concerned, which Geno only found endearing. Patiently, repeatedly, he put them at ease about his lack of need for sleep.

(He did not mention any other reasons he might be avoiding it. These people had saved him and his mission; no way was he going to get picky about their methods. Besides, even the child could clearly handle these things without complaint. He resolved to do the same.)

He did, however, often feel a specific exhaustion: being low on magic left him dim inside, almost too depleted to maintain his hard-won motor control over his feet and fingers. On any normal day, the Star Road would restore him directly and abundantly, but now he felt this exhaustion more than he ever had. And it was work and expense to use physical consumables to keep himself going.

When he mentioned this inner conflict in passing - masked as appreciation for how much they spent on him - he was quite surprised to learn that for Mario and Mallow, sleep restored their magic. Intriguing.

Resolving to try and save his friends some resources, he finally decided to give sleep a shot on purpose.

Mario and Mallow were both amused to see Geno flop to the floor between their beds like a toy. After several days of watching the serious, otherworldly warrior wreck things ten times his size on the battlefield, it was easy to forget that part - but his limp doll slump against the wall was a clear reminder that his form was still every bit the silly oversized plaything.

"You sure you don't want to lie down?" asked Mallow.

"It's alright. I don't think it makes a difference to this body," said Geno. "Besides… if something happens, I can be on my feet faster."

In his own bed, Mario rolled onto his side toward him and offered a reassuring smile. "If anything happens, we're right here. We'll be in it together."

They turned out the lamp, and Geno tried to relax. He could do this. Piece of cake. He'd been here a week; he'd been able to tolerate feeling trapped in an unconscious body several times. If he had to face that for several hours in one go… well, he'd experienced worse things.

Hadn't he?

What? Yes, of course he had. Stars, what a silly thought. People down here did this every night. Surely he was blowing this way out of proportion. Surely it couldn't possibly be such a -

Geno felt something fluffy brush against him. It was Mallow's hand, wrapping around his. "S'gonna be okay," the kid said, sounding already half in a dream.

Of course. Mallow seemed to have a sixth sense for these things. Geno chuckled softly into the dark, feeling equal parts sheepish and glad for a friend like this. "That's what I'm here to make sure of, my little friend," he redirected anyway, but Mallow was already asleep.

On his other side, he heard his other friend shift. Mario looked quite awake, the shine of his eyes just visible in the starlight through the window. Mario didn't always pick up on Mallow's reactions and what they meant. Had he this time?

Confirming his suspicions, Mario quietly slipped out of his bed and sat next to Geno on the floor.

"Let me guess," Mario whispered conspiratorially, "where you're from, there's always someone alert and guarding, yeah?"

"Yeah," Geno whispered back. "It's what I do."

"Well, who does it for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Up there, who guards you when you need it?"

Geno was quiet. Mario clearly didn't know his real source of trepidation, but… he'd never specifically considered this question. His unspoken answer was, of course, 'Still me.'

Mario seemed to take his silence as an answer. "Hey, you know what? I'll sit watch tonight."

Geno blinked. "Mario, you really don't have to do that."

"I'm gonna."

"But... you need nightly sleep."

Mario leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Wanna know how little rest I got when it was just'a me and Mallow? And how much I've gotten for the past week with another actual adult around? It's like having my brother here, but you actually stay awake all night, like - I dunno, almost like you're some kinda star watching over us or something."

Mario's eyes were glistening with humor in the dark. Geno couldn't help a soft chuckle in return, and stopped trying to dissuade his determined friend from his new side mission.

"I can handle one all-nighter. Get some rest… stella dalla testa dura," Mario added under his breath as he got up, a good-natured tease he probably didn't realize Geno understood just fine.

Nice projection there, hard-headed human, Geno thought with affection as his friend sat in the same chair he would have chosen himself, the one next to the window and in full view of the door. He knew it was far from the first time Mario had done any of this… including the unnecessary and probably futile gesture of support at his own expense.

But he was surprised at how much it helped.

Before he even asked it to again, Geno felt his body relax. His eyes drifted closed; his head and shoulders drooped more deeply. The ever-present restlessness in his feet and fingers departed as he realized that, for tonight, he could at least withdraw from the most complicated joints and actually give himself a bit of a break.

Through the wood of his eyelids and chest, ♡♪!? could still see a dreamy, unfocused version of the room. He still had all of his senses. He could still feel Mallow's fluffy hand. The little guy had pulled Geno's entire forearm close to him in his sleep, as if his arm were a doll itself.

Some time later, he heard Mario softly snoring. Geno noticed that he was slumped backward in his chair, his neck at an angle even he recognized as uncomfortable. He sorted himself back into his body. As he got up, Mallow made a little sound and clutched his arm more tightly; Geno carefully detached it at the elbow.

By this point he knew that, if woken, Mario would only be embarrassed and more doggedly committed to staying awake. So instead, he tucked a pillow behind his friend's head, and covered him with his bed's left-behind blanket. Then he quietly sank to the floor next to Mallow again, plugging his arm back into his socket so the little guy wouldn't get a scare when he next awoke.

He relaxed his head and limbs again, letting the sounds of his sleeping companions soothe him, until… finally… he felt it. The magic of this world, barely perceptible. It was always there in the living things, the trees and flowers and mushrooms and people, so strong in his friends, and now it was slowly suffusing every part of him that he'd allowed to relax.

He knew that at its deepest root it was the same old, deep source of magic as that of the stars. But down here it was slower, gentler; less of a fiery focused precision, more of a flowing peace just out of sight.

Feeling at ease at last, he surrendered control, for the first time head to toe, purposefully, completely. The gentle flow of magic coursed like water through his cooling chest… pleasantly ran through the starlight fringe of his spirit like a caring hand through hair.

What a gift of an experience sleep is... he thought contentedly. Yes, I think I'll be able to handle this indeed.

Bonus headcanons:

With his action figure joints, Geno can technically lock his knees and sleep standing up like some kind of weird horse. He doesn't, though. That would freak people out.

At some point in their adventure, Geno somehow acquires the ability to snore. It sounds like creaking. Because it IS creaking. Geno somehow cannot hear himself do this, and genuinely thinks they're all making a joke he doesn't quite get. Finally, Mario, with his assortment of handyman skills that include carpentry, does the rest of the party a favor and gets some graphite and wax into Old Man Geno's joints.

The first time Princess Peach uses star magic (Come Back) to revive Geno, he's absolutely awestruck. He wonders if she has the slightest idea how much sheer potential she has. Here's a big long headcanon of mine about that, with some art!

#minific #geno #geno smrpg #smrpg #super mario rpg #supermariorpg #fanart #fanfic #writing #smrpg fanfic #glowed-up art #my art #mario #mallow #mallow smrpg #my writing

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hauntedestheart · 4 months

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Security Measures - Bodyhoppers

Entry 2 in the Security Measures series- the stories of a boy named Trevor as he attempts to protect his possession-prone boyfriend Andy from snatchers.

I'm not entirely sure what bodyhoppers are and I've never met one that's keen to offer me specifics, but all the layman needs to know is that they're humans who have an innate ability to take over other people's bodies by slipping into them through their backs. Some that I've met have hinted that there is some sort of larger community of hoppers but I've never seen more than one in one place- they're often solitary and nomadic, spending their days completely unattached and living little snatches of other people's lives for fun.

It seems natural to compare a bodyhopper to a ghost since both will try to possess people but after spending a lot of time dealing with each type I've actually come to the conclusion that they have very little in common. The main difference is that bodyhoppers have something that ghosts completely lack: subtlety.

A visit from a ghost is pure chaos, from their bombastic entry to their explosive exit, they're out for trouble. In comparison to that, getting hopped by a hopper is almost peaceful. A good hopper will slide into their target like they're taking a dip into a pool and depart without making a ripple, leaving their targets only dimly aware that anything happened at all. You yourself might have been hopped at some point and not even realized it!

Luckily for us the first hopper we encountered was an inexperienced one so he was easy to spot- Andy took ten minutes to come back from the bathroom and then I found him dancing on a table without a shirt, so it was pretty obvious something was up. I thought he was a ghost until I confronted him and a very scared looking young guy slid out of his back, and a hopper is far less threatening when you can face them from the front so thanks to a bit of intimidation we were able to pump a lot of good information out of him that's served us well.

Unlike a lot of forms of body snatchers, hoppers actually prefer a challenge- I think they take some pride in being tricky. Usually they'll strike in a public place, singling out a target and waiting until they're alone to slip in and carry on as if nothing had changed. You can stop a hopper with physical force if you catch them in the act (Andy's fists can attest to this) so the best way to guard against a hopper is to be vigilant, because once they're in, they're in.

I'm still experimenting with different methods of forcing a hopper out but as far as I can tell conventional exorcisms and spells won't work- whatever it is that they're using to hop people, it isn't quite magic. The most reliable tool I've found is, strangely enough, just kind of talking to them! A lot of hoppers treat it like a game so they'll usually move on after being called out because it "spoils the fun," and they're also very concerned about their secrecy so if push comes to shove, threatening to expose a hopper can scare them off. They don't want trouble any more than you do.

But I must stress that you absolutely do not want a hopper to be angry with you... with their powers there's no telling what they'll do.

The oldest, most seasoned hoppers in particular scare me because with enough experience a hopper can learn to access their host's memories, which makes identifying them near impossible. One time Andy was hopped on his way back from class and I didn't notice it for a week– I shared a bed with this hopper and I didn't even realize it until he slipped up while picking his favorite ice cream, of all things. Remember, just because a hopper has access to someone's memories doesn't mean they know what's important, so little details matter!

But to close it out on a more positive note, at the end of the day, hoppers are still people, and people can be cool sometimes! Andy and I do keep in contact with one hopper that we met– we got to talking after he left Andy's body and it turned out we had a lot in common. He still plays Destiny with Andy, the two of them do raids together. They get lunch together every now and then... though it's a bit confusing because he's in a different body every time.

He said I can always call him if I need to force a hopper out, which I've fortunately never had to do. But it's a good option to have in our back pocket.

#male possession #Series: Security #should post the accompanying story soon I'm almost done with it

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rubysunnday · 3 months

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Someone asked me for my gif colouring tutorial - this is a day I have been waiting for.

I’ll start by saying that there is no right or wrong way to colour gifs. It’s entirely dependent on the show, scene, character and the giffer. Over the years I’ve followed many gif tutorials (I’ll link my favourites at the end) and I think I’ve finally settled on a colouring routine (?) that works for any gif.

This tutorial presumes you have a basic understanding of how to make a gif and that you know how Photoshop works. I use Photoshop 2024 so things might differ depending on what version you have.

Shall we begin?

First thing I do once I’ve cropped, made my gif and sharpened it is to adjust the curves.

I always set the white point and the black point using the eyedropper tool. This adjusts both the brightness but also the RGB layers (red, green and blue) and begins colour-correcting the gif.

I then do another curves layer and I use the auto-correct curves button. This automatically adjusts the curves and brightens the entire gif.

Once I’ve done my curves I move on to the levels. I increase the black point (the first little arrow as you look at it) and the grey point (the middle arrow). The black point deepens the darker areas of the gif. The grey point can either brighten the grey areas or darken them - I tend to brighten them.

Then I adjust the brightness and contrast to make the whole thing brighter and deepen the colours.

The channel mixer is a new discovery I made (I didn’t make it, I just found a tutorial that did). It helps to colour-correct the gif and make it less orange/blue etc. If you’ve seen Shadow and Bone (namely season one) you know how green and orange some of it is. This layer helps to combat that and make it a more natural colour.

For this gif, because it was all a bit yellow/orange, I decreased the reds and greens and increased the blues. I only go up or down by one or two - if you go too much in one direction or the other it’ll begin to change the colour of the entire gif rather than subtly correct it.

To colour-correct a bit more I use the colour balance layer. Again, I decrease the red and increase the blue. I tend to stick to going up in fives on this layer. +/- five tends to do what I need it to regarding colouring.

And finally I adjust the vibrance by five or ten just to make the entire gif pop that bit more.

Here's the gif before and after!

It's made a huge difference and made the entire gif seem a lot brighter and less yellow.

And just to prove it works no matter what - the left side has been coloured the right hasn't. The difference is noticeable, especially on Yennefer.

Tada, colouring tutorial! Whilst the numbers vary from gif to gif the order and layers used remain the same.

Here are some useful links to other tutorials. These are like my bible and I swear by them!

Gifmaking for beginners by @hayaosmiyazaki (the holy grail of tutorials for me)

Gif Making Guide for Beginners by @saw-x

And this tutorial by @aubrey-plaza goes into more detail about the channel mixer and how it actually works!

Any questions don’t be afraid to ask :)

#gif tutorial #gif #userlottie #userdavid

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 10 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 3.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Unresolved sexual tension, apologies to anyone named Chet, contagious giggles, gratuitous use of the word cunt, an unspecified age difference, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author’s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Story Links: Can I Stay? Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[WARNING- This is Part 3! part 2 was just posted a day before this. DON’T SKIP PART 2]

‘Noona, can I stay?’

Of course you wanted to tell him yes. Of course you had grown attached to him in ways you could never tell him. But how much power did this man really think you had in this company? Between the two of you, he had so much more influence here; heaps more than you had.

“Baekhyun, that is not a decision for me to make. You are a great assistant, but you are a more important person than just my assistant.” You made your best attempt at it. The sooner he understood the magnitude of his potential the sooner he would let go of this fixation on staying in this department as your assistant and the better off he would be. If for the sake of his future in this company, he should probably move on. Although, you also realized that part of what made you so damn good at your job was the years of experience you had with it.

“And…if the decision was yours?” His eyebrows were lifted and his expression challenged, as if he asked some mysterious, unsaid veiled question instead of this very obvious ‘Can't I just stay as your assistant’ question he was actually asking. You wondered what had made him so determined to get a response from you.

“I think with a couple of years here with me, you would get too good and surpass me.” You pursed your lips in contemplation. You saw his incredible potential the minute he walked through that door on the first day.

“And then I would have to kill you.” You said it with a straight face and it took him only a minute before his eyebrows dropped and he let out a half exhaled breath mixed with a loud laugh.

He’d spun on his heels and taken a step back from you, before turning back to look at your face again, his wide grin quite evident on his face. “This is the first time I’ve heard you make a joke.”

“What makes you think I am joking?” You deadpanned, no longer even looking at the man and he laughed out loud again.

“Oh my god,” he said out loud to himself. “I think this might be a new step in our relationship.”

“I beg your forgiveness, you kick me in the chest. I ask you to hold on to me and you threaten me with death.” He was talking only for himself now. Amusing himself with his little jokes like he often did. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of into it. I guess that ‘What Rihanna Song Are You’ quiz was right. Chains and whips do excite me.”

“Are you done?” You interrupted, actually unable to take any more after your started leafing through the pages and pages of work you had accumulated on your desk.

The more you looked the less you wanted of all of it. You began handling everything with rougher hands and eventually resorted to angrily tossing things into a miscellaneous pile you had just created that made no logical sense. If these things annoyed you the most, they landed in that pile. After a while, after every other toss a swift hand would come into your field of vision and pull something out of the pile.

You didn’t know where it went, but the pile was shrinking and your mood was feeling lighter because of it.

The only pile left after Baekhyun’s mystical sorting just needed signatures. You could do that and walk at the same time if you had someone watching for obstacles in your path.

“I have a meeting with Choi’s First AE in ten minutes and I needed all these signed like yesterday. Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“Now, Baekhyun. Sign and walk and don't let me fall into an open manhole cover.”

He did pretty good with it. “Step up,” He called out beside you and you stepped up when he told you, finding the perfect rhythm and finding the step he warned you about. “Four steps, then turn right,” he said again while also grabbing the folders and flipping to the signature pages that he had already pre-marked with brightly colored sticky tabs last week when he was desperately trying to get you to sign them. Apparently he had been getting emails about them. They were overdue. There might have been phone calls too. Not dangerously late, but you did feel guilty for the delay. Why didn’t you think of this before? You’d probably wasted hours of your life just walking. Those walking hours could have been used for signing. You were pretty sure you were a genius.

That was until your forward progress was abruptly and jarringly halted by a firm arm wrapped around your waist and you were pulled back violently. A loud sound like a beast’s roar echoed against your eardrums and you gasped out loud. Your stomach leapt up into your throat as a panic rose up inside of you from the shock of it.

You’d just stepped off a curb. He’d warned you about the step down, that wasn’t the unexpected part. The danger came too suddenly for either of you to prepare for right after that. You smelled the exhaust of a retreating motorcycle. You could see the crazy driver speeding off in your peripheral vision. You felt the trembling and the shaking inside of your chest as you tried desperately to breathe though the tightness of the arm squeezing around your waist, pulling you back to safety.

“Shit,” Baekhyun swore out loud sometime during the commotion and you’d cried out the same.

It took a few moments of steadying yourself. When your mind sharpened to what happened you found yourself having stumbled back two or three steps with Baekhyun’s arm still wrapped around your waist, the firmness of his forearm digging into the softness of the skin directly below your breasts and his hand you felt laid flat over your rib cage, fingers digging in hard. Tight and firm everywhere. You felt bound up entirely. A clattering of documents bounced onto the floor by your feet and your eyes blinked hard and fast as you tried your best to calm your breathing down. He was still holding onto you when you could feel the panic subsiding and your breathing returning to normal.

Baekhyun’s upset seemed to take longer to pass. You felt the rapid up and down breathing of his chest echoed through your back and his face was buried in the space just over your shoulder, against your neck and into your hair. You could feel the heat from his breath on your neck. It was warm and sticky.

You gave a light tap over his arm that still held you tightly around your waist. Trying to get him to loosen the hold and let you go. It took some convincing though. His arm was very firm and he was holding you very tightly. Close call with literal death aside, a new danger was quickly making itself evident. He felt incredibly warm and nice with his body pressed up against you like this and you recognized the need to separate yourself from him if you were going to keep any remaining bits of your sanity and self resolve intact.

“Are you okay? You aren’t hurt?” He asked from somewhere buried behind you and you urgently nodded. He needed to let you go. He smelled so good.

You tapped his arm again, faster and more insisting, nearly begging now.

“I’m okay,” you said as calmly and as convincingly as you could manage with the limited oxygen you had in your lungs. You could finally feel the tension in his body relaxing a little. But only a little. The longer he held onto you, the more you felt something else making the air around the both of you feel so heavy — something else making the heat spreading between your bodies somehow feel warmer.

Baekhyun was not letting you go, and this was changing for him too, it seemed.

It took no less than a miracle that you did not moan out loud when you felt the deep inhale he took into his lungs with his face still buried deep within your hair. That deep inhale was paired with the smallest sound that came from somewhere deep inside of his chest that, if you were thinking strictly with your rational brain, you could maybe contribute to the relief. He made that sound out of relief that you were not hurt. He pulled that warm breath into himself deep and slowly, savoring it for much longer than necessary out of…relief. A wave of warmth ricocheted through your chest and down into your belly and you closed your eyes through it, desperately reminding yourself that you and him were now, well out of harm’s way, standing on a sidewalk at your workplace where anyone with eyes could see this.

Your tapping was harder now. It woke him up.

As soon as his arm was loose enough, you made a quick and clean break of every and all bits of contact with his body. As abruptly as this happened, you extracted yourself and you ignored the way his eyelids fluttered slowly open and that fucking pink hue in his cheeks and lips that turned his face into one of the most attractive faces you’d ever laid your eyes on.

You squatted down, picking up everything that had fallen and soon enough he joined you, grabbing things from your hands to add to his piles without saying a thing about what maybe he also felt building between the two of you whenever you happened to get too close to each other.

It couldn't happen. It no longer mattered whether or not you believed it was happening. You knew for certain that whatever was or was not happening, it needed to stop here. You simply would never put yourself into any position for this man to need to touch you ever again. You could not trust yourself.

A moan. You almost moaned. You could practically feel the sound ready to come out of your chest if you’d only allowed your mouth to open, it would have. You were insane. You were a crazy person, a goddamned lunatic and a menace. He was your assistant for god's sake.

You steadied your breathing and your resolve and decided to allow yourself two entire minutes to sign the rest of these things on the spot. So what if you were late to your meeting. Punctuality be damned. Sure, the almost dying part was a little scary, but even you had your limits of what you could stand. You had almost moaned! What next? An orgasm right here on the sidewalk? Lock you up and throw away the key now.

You made it on time to your meeting. He was the First Assistant Editor to the Picture Editor Sophie Choi, with whom you had been working very closely with for months on this project. Sophie’s 1st was a man who simply went by Chet. No last name, just Chet. Apparently it was his thing.

He was nice. He was always polite with you even when he had some bad news to deliver, he always relayed whatever news, projects updates, or requests for your team he had for you with an empathetic and professional filter. Unlike some other utterly obnoxious 1st AEs that you’d worked with in the past, Chet was alright.

He was also tall and extremely handsome if you were into muscles, backwards ball caps, and men who looked like they probably moonlighted as underwear models in the back pages of GQ magazine. Not that you had ever seen him in his underwear, but you did follow his instagram and you always made sure to give him that little heart when he posted his pictures.

Chet was a hugger. When he saw you his smile was charming and inviting as he called out your name and he wrapped his big arms around you, pulling you in like a long lost friend. You weren't exactly friends with him. While you’d been invited for drinks with him and his team on many occasions your schedule had always been too swamped to take him up on the offers, but he was still just as friendly with you.

You didn't require Baekhyun to attend this meeting but he was weirdly insistent on tagging along after the quick introductions you made between the two men. They both shook hands and there were some formalities and awkward pleasantries exchanged between the two. Baekhyun whispered to you that he was sure that he should attend this meeting for learning purposes. You were sure nothing important other than networking was about to happen, but he insisted that everything was important in its own way. He was stubborn and after a few back and forths you finally just gave in to the man. If he wanted to waste his lunch hour, who were you to argue?

Chet made a kind of too loud joke about some rumors that you’d been saddled with some fresh meat intern and you were quick to assure him that Baekhyun had actually turned out to be the best assistant you’d ever had. After the harmless joke, you risked a careful glance at Baekhyun. If he’d taken any offense, he certainly didn't react. He spent much of the meeting sitting in the back of the room typing furiously on his cellphone, no doubt answering many emails on your behalf. Baekhyun was always busy on that phone, keeping your workload down as a side effect.

The meeting was about halfway through when your stomach growled noisily and embarrassingly, reminding you that yes, you were indeed human and you probably should eat something today.

“Why don't we take this downstairs—” Chet lifted an eyebrow in your direction, “—have some lunch… on me?”

You considered it. It didn’t sound like a bad idea. You had all of the materials already and you skipped dinner last night and now that you thought about it, you skipped breakfast this morning too. Your nerves about the presentation had kept your appetite muted. The last meal you had was something shoved into your mouth by Baekhyun sometime yesterday afternoon.

‘Eat this,’ he had said at the time and you blindly opened your mouth and received whatever he shoved in there.

“Some lunch sounds lovely, Chet. Thank you.”

“That does sound lovely, Chet. Thank you,” Baekhyun mirrored from the back of the room, obviously inviting himself along. You couldn’t be completely sure, and you definitely wouldn’t swear to it under oath, but there was something funny about his tone.

Chet’s wide smile had a microscopic hiccup as his eyes moved between you and Baekhyun and then back to you again.

“Great!” He said over-enthusiastically, almost manically and you also detected something just a little funny in his response as well.

You didn't know what, but something was up with these two men.

Lunch was delicious. Baekhyun took the spot directly beside you, took it upon himself to unwrap your utensils and he placed them just so beside your plate and Chet sat across from you and took it upon himself to unwrap your straw and place it inside your glass for you.

You weren't sure what kind of an imbecile you had appeared to be, but clearly they thought you needed help with something as simple as feeding yourself. You smiled politely to both men. Maybe they were both just overly polite people? Although you knew for a fact that Baekhyun wasn’t that polite when it was just the two of you alone.

Something was definitely up with these two men.

Oddities aside from them, you didn't realize just how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your pasta. If this was going to be your only meal of the day you were going to have some carbs dammit.

Baekhyun had grabbed a chocolate dessert with his lunch plate. You recalled him mentioning once that he wasn’t that into sweets but you didn’t want to pry. You did steal occasional glances at the chocolate layers and one such glance had your eyes bouncing up onto his face where he chewed lazily on his sandwich without any care in the world for how lovely those chocolate and vanilla cream layers looked and must taste.

His eyes slipped to the side and he looked at you as he chewed and swallowed casually. He put his sandwich down and his hand slipped over to the dessert plate. With a single fingertip he touched the edge of the plate and he pushed it quietly and carefully in your direction until it sat there beside your pasta as if it had belonged there all along.

Your eyebrows lifted and you widened your eyes in his direction, mouthing a silent and hopeful ‘me?’

He nodded his head once giving you the tiniest scrunch of his nose and he picked his sandwich back up and continued to eat until it was almost gone.

You had abandoned your pasta, you’d had your fill of it. You took the first bite of the chocolate cake and you were pretty sure you could weep. You were also pretty sure you had completely and thoroughly just fallen in love….with the cake. You could so easily be bought and sold with a good chocolate cake. Baekhyun was the winner. Whatever the competition was, if any at all, whatever these weird vibes between them were, as far as you were concerned, it was over with the first bite.

Then lunch and the meeting were actually over and you didn't catch any more strange interactions between Baekhyun and Chet. Perhaps you’d imagined it all. With your belly full and your workload even lighter you graciously accepted the goodbye hug from the tall well meaning man and you even promised that you’d make an attempt to meet him for drinks once this project wrapped. You did, afterall, have an end date in sight at last. And even if you only saw him at the wrap party where there would be drinks, you wouldn’t technically be lying to him right now. He accepted your promise with an extended pinky finger waved into the air as you walked away cheerfully.

Your mood was grand. It was probably the cake and the pasta.

“Ahh, he’s great.” You remarked out loud and from your left you heard a stifled scoff poorly disguised as a cough from Baekhyun. You turned to look at him with wide questioning eyes.

“Chet.” Baekhyun said his name out loud once with an audible emphasis on the T at the end. As if that T was its very own punctuation mark. As if it was its own hilarious punchline.

“What? He’s nice. He’s so good to work with and he’s never given me any trouble at all.” Why you felt the need to defend Chet to Baekhyun you couldn't quite explain.

Technically, Baekhyun hadn’t even said anything bad about him. He just kept saying his name as if that in itself was the problem.

“Chet.” He repeated the name again, slower this time and then he laughed outright into his hand as if it was the funniest joke he’d heard all day. You’d expected one or two chuckles from him. But strangely, and concerningly, it didn’t stop. And worse, it was weirdly contagious. You fought it all you could but you accidentally allowed a few giggles to escape when he was in the thick of the fits of laughter. It had gotten so bad in the elevator up to your office that you had to smack him on the arm to get him to stop laughing and breathe before he passed out. His eyes were watering from it. He was wheezing and he was gasping. You reached up and wiped a tear stain from his cheek and patted him right on the face kind of hard, almost a slap, anything to get it to stop. It didn’t.

You were feeling dizzy as well. You felt drunk on this madness you both found yourself trapped in. It was silly. It was childish. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed so hard. Even something as simple as eye contact with Baekhyun from across the quiet office would set you both off again. And he’d reach for the box of tissues and cover his face completely all the while loudly cackling. You had been overworked, exhausted and stressed maybe and this was a side effect of all of it. Maybe you’d both finally just lost your minds.

He eventually wound back down, calming and then busying himself with actual work.

“Chet.” He said out loud almost an entire hour later, bursting into noisy laughter all over again. You had to actually bite down on your lip to keep yourself from laughing. You were sick of it. Your stomach muscles ached and you were so very, very tired of the giggles.

“No more,” you begged, holding your face in your hands. Your cheeks were sore, everything hurt. Finally you just gave up and left the room to go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face. What was this? You wondered if you’d ever be able to meet with Chet again and just act normal. You definitely couldn't ever meet him with Baekhyun again, that was for damned sure.

Sometime in between redoing your entire face full of makeup that the laughter and the face washing wiped it out, and taking your seventh brisk lap around this hallway you decided it was time to put your foot down.

You were in charge here. This was your department, you had twenty seven subordinates that, on a daily basis, treated you with the utmost respect and followed your orders to the letter. You had made a decision that it was time for Baekhyun to do the same. You didn't care what he called you or who his father was.

You marched back into your office to face him with a plan in place ready to set into motion and you found him in a spot you absolutely didn't expect.

He was sitting behind your desk, in your chair doing a little sideways back and forth wiggle in your spinning office chair. He was humming a soft tune to himself as he carefully and slowly wrote something down with your pen on your pack of post-it notes, underlining and dotting and crossing letters. Your office phone had been moved. You guessed you received a phone call while you were out.

When he saw you walk through the door he looked up at you briefly before looking back down at what he was doing.

“Assistant Byun,” you said firmly. He hummed out in response and continued to write without looking up at you. You were fired up and ready for this and no amount of his distraction techniques were going to work on you this time. You knocked twice on your desk. “Assistant Byun?” You’d called out again and his eyebrows shot up in the middle of his face.

“Yes, yes, I am here. Your Assistant Byun is here, what do you need my esteemed and magnanimous Manager Noona?” He was still in a playful mood it seemed.

“Byun Baekhyun, from today onward you, nor I, are not allowed to say the c-word inside of this office. Do you understand me? The c-word is banned.” You put on your angry and serious voice and Baekhyun’s eyes widened and he looked straight into your face.

“I’m not allowed to say the…c-word?” he paused and his eyes looked down at the post-it note that he had just pulled off the pack and was holding gingerly between his thumb and his index finger.

“The c-word. You are not allowed to say the c-word anymore.” You harnessed the annoyance for the time wasted today. You thought about the hours of work you’d have to do at home to make up for today and you used that to make yourself seem as authoritative as possible. You meant business now. Play time was over. This was serious.

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed and he dropped his chin in confusion.

After a long moment of thought he spoke.

“Cunt?” He whispered.

You closed your eyes and inhaled a deep breath. You had completely forgotten about that c-word.

“No, Baekhyun. Not cunt, Baekhyun.” You gritted your teeth.

“The other c-word from earlier, from the past three hours Byun Baekhyun, the other c-word. You can say cunt,” you hissed in annoyance with a hand wave, “You are forbidden from saying that other c-word.” Your frustration from the day was mounting. You rubbed your temples with your fingertips, willing the headache you felt building to subside.

“So, I can say cunt in this office?” His voice was louder now and you closed your eyes, threw your head back and inhaled a deep breath. “Cunt is okay? The other c-word is not allowed, but cunt you are okay with. That right, Boss?”

“Yes. You can say cunt if you have to say cunt. Do not, under any circumstances, say the other c-word in this office. Am I clear?” When you opened your eyes he was leaning his head far back in your desk chair in a lounging position. He’d pulled the lever below the seat so the seat back leaned way back and he was watching you with that little post it still held gingerly between his fingers and there was a look of smug satisfied amusement on his pretty face.

“Did anything happen while I was away? Why are you in my chair?”

“Well,” he began, sitting up straight and pushing himself up onto his legs as he made his way back around from behind your desk where you were pretty sure you had never given him permission to be. Not that it mattered, he already had access to everything you had access to, just for the sake of the assistant’s job.

“Well?” You urged him to continue and he looked down at the note again, reaching once more for the pen he scratched something off very thoroughly and you caught a quick movement as he wrote something in its place. He stood up now, straightening his shoulders, looking as put together and professional as ever and he straightened his back as he began reading word for word from the post-it note.

“Cunt called while you were out and asked if you would like to meet him tonight for drinks. I was sure to let him know that your schedule tonight is full and would be full all week, and I made sure that he knew that you do not have space to fit him in for drinks tonight, as you will be busy all night long, with the wrap. Cunt sounded unreasonably upset and just a little bit like a c-word. You are more than welcome, but not in any way obligated, to call him back. From Baekhyun.”

He looked up from the note with wide innocent eyes and his lips pulled into the smallest little pout and you reached forward and grabbed it from him quickly. Sure enough the entire thing was there, word for word. He’d crossed out Chet, replacing it with the word with Cunt every time.

You were pretty sure you were about two seconds away from a complete nervous breakdown.

You knew when you were beat. It was close enough to quitting time that you merely wadded up the note and tossed it into the nearest trash can and began packing up your laptop and a few things you knew you could work on at home. You knew you had a hard deadline coming up tonight by midnight that you absolutely could not miss but everything was on your laptop, you could simply get it all done and submitted from home.

Your quitting time meant it was also Baekhyun’s quitting time. He helped you pack up a few of your laptop accessories, lifting a few peripherals into the air in silent question. You nodded or shook your head for what you would need and they either went into the bag or they went back to the desk. This quiet communication between the two of you was one of your favorite things about him.

The ride down the elevator to the lobby was peaceful. Today felt like running a marathon. This job was usually stressful and eventful but today had been a whole other monster entirely. You could feel the stress and tension in your shoulders and you longed for a long soak in your bathtub.

Baekhyun walked out of the elevator beside you but in no way did you both have the same destination. You knew he would go out to his car and you would make your way down to the subway. You knew he lived on the opposite side of town from where you lived. The distance had to be maybe a 40 minute drive with this office being a center point. You hoped he got some good rest at home and you knew with your workload you’d have to settle for a 30 minute nap at most.

You’d cleared the elevator hallway and stepped into the open hallway when you saw him. It was Chet, and you caught the back of him seated in a chair having a rather casual and loud conversation with a buddy. You’d recognize the 2nd AE’s toupee atop his head from a mile away. This was definitely not something you needed right now.

Your steps paused and you backed up a quick two steps, hiding behind the wall that divided the elevators from the lobby. You could clearly hear the two men laughing and reminiscing about whatever it was two buddies talked about.

Baekhyun who had been just a step behind you caught your rapid evasive motions and his eyes also zeroed in on and instantly understood the danger in the lobby.

“Oh shit,” he said under his breath. “He doesn’t even work in this building. I bet he’s waiting for you.”

“What do I do? I don't want to go out for a drink. I have a midnight deadline. Is there a back door?” Your voice betrayed your panic and Chet’s noisy words broke through the occasional squeaking of the wheels on the cleaning lady’s bucket as she mopped the hallway floor and curiously glanced at the two of you hiding here behind this wall.

‘Man, she’s got this new cockblocking assistant. Real fucking annoying, one of those pretty boys. I mean like I’m pretty but I’m still manly, you know bro? Anyway, I’ve been working on this chick for like six months which is fucking bullshit, for me, you know that. She’s a fucking tease, a sexy tease, but still. Dude, she likes all of my posts. Yeah, tonight’s the night. I’ve waited enough.’

The air felt thin and you could feel that suffocating sinking feeling in your stomach that sometimes came with these horrible realizations about people you thought you knew. Behind you, you felt his flinch as every muscle in Baekhyun’s body seemed to tense up and he took a step forward.

You reached out a hand and wrapped it securely around his arm and you pulled him back hard.

“I still have to work with him,” you said firmly and you did your best to keep the trembling out of your voice.

Baekhyun was frozen and his ears were bright red with a look of anger like you hadn’t seen before from him set deep inside his eyes.

He was eerily quiet save for the sound of his steady breathing and his fists were white from how tightly he clenched them. What was this strong reaction? It wasn’t like he had that much allegiance to you. Maybe he just hated the sight of those womanizing, degrading types of men who treated women like conquests and objects.

Baekhyun looked around at his surroundings and his focus stopped on the old woman with the mop and squeaky wheeled bucket. He was reaching into his pocket and he pulled out a crisp bill, you couldn't quite make out the denomination but it had to be at least $100 and he walked up to the woman with a smile on his face. A few words were exchanged and she quietly nodded and accepted the offering from him, turning and walking away quietly with the mop in her hand, leaving behind her bucket in the center of the hallway, close enough to where Chet sat for you to instantly understand Baekhyun’s intention.

Baekhyun was casual about it. You watched on in awe as he returned halfway to where you were and then made a quick circle, working up some speed he pulled out his cellphone and acted as if he was glued to the thing, completely immersed as he moved fast. He kicked the bucket with enough force for a wall of dirty mop water to go flying. The water was nearly black and it traveled with impressive speed, hitting Chet and soaking almost up to his waist. He yelped out in surprise and Baekhyun yelped out in surprise as he really sold it and fell down onto the floor, grabbing at his shin as if he were in great pain. The cellphone he had in his hands flew and clattered onto the carpet and Chet stood up half surprised, half enraged but too soaking wet to do much other than hobble around.

“What the fuck!?” Chet howled toward Baekhyun who was already being helped up by several concerned onlookers all who looked back at Chet in admonishment for instantly rushing to blame Baekhyun, who was clearly injured here. Chet was just wet. A few of the more sympathetic bystanders tossed a few take-out napkins in his direction.

“Who left that there?” Baekhyun called out in concern and groaned in fake pain.

“Oh no, Chet! Your pants, Bro!” Baekhyun said loudly and you had to cover your mouth with both hands to hide the loud snort of laughter that erupted from your mouth. The commotion itself lasted until Chet grumpily wobbled out of the front door, probably headed back to his own office for a change of clothes. The old woman returned shortly after that with her mop and began soaking up the remains of the liquid and Baekhyun straightened his posture, miraculously recovered from his injury and he sauntered his way back to you with a smile on his lips.

“My dearest Manager Noona,” When he reached you, he did so with his palm lifted into the air and a sweet little addition to your title on his lips, “Chet seems to have been called away on an urgent matter and is regrettably unable to join you for drinks this evening.”

“Oh no. What a shame,” you replied with a bright smile for him. You can't remember ever being quite this smiley at work before Baekhyun. If someone were to see you, they’d think you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had.

At least today was Friday. At least after you met your midnight deadline you had a late start tomorrow, you would be able to sleep in. You’d be able to eat breakfast and you’d be able to have a meal at a table like a civilized human. Your Saturday was relatively light compared to what today had been.

You said your farewells to him and you made your way to the subway, settling into the seat as you casually considered the quickest and most efficient way to make your deadline tonight. Your hand passed over the pockets, feeling for the blue external hard drive you always kept there in the pocket of this bag that had vital attachments that had been cleared and vetted by every important department at work to submit to the production teams. You felt with both hands over that space in the bag and found it suspiciously flat and terrifyingly empty. The pocket was empty. The hard drive was not in there. You were already nearly home and you searched your recent memory for clues, where had you left it. Where would it possibly be?

You searched through your memory and came up blank. Where had you seen it last? A feeling dawned suddenly and you remembered something Baekhyun had told you while you had been mentally occupied with something far more important at the time.

‘The blue hard drive is…’ His voice echoed…but you could not recall the rest of his sentence. Is where? Where was it?

You pulled out your cell phone and sent a text.

‘Blue hard drive’ you said those three words and only those three words and your phone was ringing.

You lifted the phone to your ear and before you even said a word Baekhyun was speaking.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I have it. I have the blue hard drive. Shit. This is make or break isn’t it? I forgot to give it to you. Where are you now? I’m turning around. I’m coming to you.”

“I just got home. I’ll text you the address.” You hung up the phone without saying anything else and you quickly sent him your home address. As soon as you’d done it you felt uneasy anxious butterflies swimming around inside of your belly when the realization of this hit you.

Baekhyun was coming to your house and you were about to have a full blown panic attack at the thought of that man alone in here with you.

Byun Baekhyun was coming to your house. He’d given a little thumbs up to the text message with your address and that meant that he was already on his way.

[To Be Continued]

Story Links: Can I Stay? - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#Baekhyun fic #Baekhyun fanfiction #Exo Baekhyun #Baekhyun #exo fic #exo fanfiction #exo story #baekhyun story #baekhyun smut #girl dinner

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sokkastyles · 8 months

Note

"It's about Ozai's psychological need for control and need to hurt his son to feel powerful."

hmmmm I mean Ozai was pretty straight forward when he said to Zuko "it was to teach you respect" it doesn't make the situation any less fucked up but he's not lying about his motivation. Also Zuko and Azula aren't the only ones who try and act as a mini version of their father. Ozai reacts to Zuko's pragmatism in the war council the same way Azulon reacted to Ozai's suggetion of becoming the heir to the throne after Lu Ten's death.

I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but this is something I'm gonna need everyone to understand real quick.

Whatever Ozai might say, it is not about respect.

In fact, the show has Zuko call this out, when Ozai tells Zuko it was to teach him respect in "The Day of Black Sun," and Zuko says, "It was cruel, and it was wrong!"

I believe that Ozai believes it's about respect, but Ozai is an abuser and abusers are notoriously good at lying to themselves.

Abuse is always, always, always about power.

And actually, Azulon's treatment of Ozai is a big part of why I think Azulon was an abuser, too.

First we need to understand this one rule, that abuse is always about power, and that whatever excuse the abuser gives is always going to be wrong (even if the abuser is able to convince themselves that it's true).

But also, if we really break down the idea that Ozai was trying to teach Zuko respect, does that even hold up?

Did Zuko learn respect by being burned?

Think about Zuko at the beginning of the series. Is this a teenager that has learned how to be respectful? Would you use that adjective to describe Zuko, age sixteen, circa book one, episode one?

Zuko, as we are introduced to him, is angry, rude, hateful, and full of rage. And he became that way through abuse. Abuse did not teach him respect. It never does. It didn't teach Ozai, and it didn't teach Zuko. It's a vicious cycle and if Zuko hadn't learned better, far from learning respect, he would have actually learned how to become just like Ozai, an angry, hateful person doling out cruelty because he never got the "respect" he thought he deserved and not understanding that respect is actually earned through giving it.

Also, consider that Ozai has another child, who he thinks is so much better than Zuko, who he heaps praise upon and thinks very highly of. If you look at the way Ozai interacts with Azula vs how he interacts with Zuko, the idea that his treatment of Zuko was about "respect" becomes the obvious lie that it is, because we see Azula act incredibly rude and disrespectful to basically every person around her, including Ozai, and he continues to praise her for it. Azula isn't any more respectful than Zuko, Ozai just has this idea in his head of what his kids are like and treats them accordingly. That's kinda the thing with the golden child / scapegoat dynamic.

Zuko isn't even respectful to Ozai at the beginning of the series. He fears Ozai, but as Zhao remarks, what Ozai did didn't teach Zuko anything about speaking respectfully, because it had nothing to do with that.

Because you can't teach someone respect by disrespecting them, especially a child. What children learn from this is that the way to be powerful is to disrespect others. They learn to fear others, and they learn that fear will earn them a facsimile of respect, but, like Azula at the end of the series, they are left wondering why their lives still feel empty.

Do you know who actually taught Zuko respect?

Iroh did.

Iroh taught Zuko respect by treating him with respect, even when Zuko was disrespectful to him. Iroh taught Zuko that Zuko deserved respect, and that also meant he didn't deserve what his father did to him.

The irony of Ozai's statement about respect is like, the entire point. Ozai has no authority to talk about respect while he's raising a hand to a terrified child. Someone who knows anything about respect would not need to terrorize children to try to get it.

Abuse is always about power, and always about the abuser, and never about the victim.

#zuko #ozai #abuse cw

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sundaynightlive · 9 months

Text

august of '85 (Steddie, Part 2)

A week.

Steve has had weeks of his life pass by like seconds—hell, the first ten years of his life seem to have left even faster than that.

But now, he itches.

It’s morning, and Eddie’s in a t-shirt and boxers chugging coffee like it’s wine, wandering aimlessly around the living room with a background of natural light and ocean, and all Steve can think is that he wants to pick him up and drag him to bed��his bed.

Last night, they had slept in separate rooms, but slept is a complete overstatement. Steve tossed and turned and struggled over many things, most of them falling back to Eddie in some way, shape, or form—the condensed version is this—

He’s gay? He’s gay. Well, half-gay. He should ask Eddie about that. Eddie? Yeah. Eddie. He should’ve known—if Robin and Nancy could physically make a baby, it’d be Eddie. Nancy and Robin making a baby—ew, okay, gross. Enough of that. Eddie—he’s really beautiful. And they kissed. Didn’t they meet less than two weeks ago? But Steve also invited him on a month-long vacation, so is kissing him really that far-fetched? Can something that happened even be far-fetched? Now he has to wait a week. Why? Why couldn’t it have just been, like, a day? And what had Eddie meant about ruining his life? What could ruin his life—being gay? Kind of too late to change that, isn’t it? But he is only half-gay. So he technically could just… go on. Normally. That seems like living sort of a lie, though, right?

Steve spent hours mulling over his situation in his brain, and only realized this morning the part he hadn’t really addressed—how the fuck is he supposed to last a week when Eddie will be walking around in his pajamas, breaking bread with him, swimming with him, walking along the beach with him, having tons of vacation firsts—

Fuck, and he’s just supposed to sit around here, genuinely crushing on somebody for the first time in months, and not act on it? When he knows it’s reciprocated?

He’s screwed.

“Eds—”

“That’s a new one.”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, mug hardly removed from his lips, curls down around his face like an actual lion’s mane. He’s beautiful, literally like some sort of model with that nose and those lips—Steve can picture this exact image of him, backed by those huge windows and all that water, shoved in some home-decoration magazine, and the lady looking through it would jump at his tattoos and his Metallica t-shirt but be so genuinely captivated by those eyes that—

“Hello? Earth to Steve?”

Steve snaps out of it, feeling heat rise up into his cheeks. it's embarassing to be caught staring so adamantly, but he hasn’t allowed himself to feel all of this yet. And he wants to.

Desperately.

“I—sorry. Do we really have to—”

Eddie puts up a hand, a terrible way to try and focus him because all Steve can think about then is that black fingernail polish and those rings and how those might feel on his skin or in his hair or even in his mouth, how they taste, or what it would be like to have them inside him or—

Woah. Woah.

Christ. When he gets it, he gets it bad, huh?

“The week is non-negotiable,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve is still staring at his hands, so he can’t find it in himself to be totally devastated, “I need you to be 100% sure this is what you want. I’m not ruining my first and only vacation by sleeping with my handler—”

“Woah, pause. Do not call me your handler.”

Eddie grins, and Steve thinks he can call him whatever he wants for the rest of his life if he keeps smiling just like that.

“Why not?” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, something Steve was not aware a man could actually do, and spins around like a true showman, “I’m an animal, baby. You just try and keep me out of trouble.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He wants, no, needs to reach out and pull Eddie in by the waist, push their noses together and tease him up close and personal, but--

He settles for sitting down on the couch, falling back into the cushions, supremely careful of the coffee in his cup. He took the plastic off these couches years ago. His parents never noticed. Has he spilled a couple times? Yes. Does it matter?

Not in his house.

“I know exactly how to keep your dumb ass in line.”

“Oh really?”

A challenge. Steve tries not to look too smug as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Distract and occupy,” he says, “Ask you about D&D and then hand you something shiny and you’re set for hours.”

If Steve thought that last smile was something, this one is a spiritual experience. Not only does Eddie beam, he tips his head back and laughs, exposing throat and releasing genuine joy and if that’s not everything Steve has ever wanted, he’s not sure what could be.

Is he whipped? He’s whipped. How is he even asking himself that question, of course he’s whipped. God—he’s gotta call Robin. He’s not even sure how he’s holding this conversation his mind is so fuzzy.

“Distract and occupy,” Eddie repeats, eyes shining, “I can think of a few different ways to do that.”

Oh. Oh.

Eddie is so not helping his situation.

They finish their coffees with easy conversation—how they slept, what the plan is for today, when they should go for groceries. They decide to shower and get dressed on their own timelines and when they’re ready they’ll be ready, which is nothing like it used to be with his parents. Minute by minute itineraries—his mom, when she was younger, was eager to do as much as they could in the time they were allotted. You’d think she would’ve been less concerned considering they had a whole month to waste out here, but she somehow always managed to fill every single moment with some tourist attraction or event. It never felt like too much, either. She was a planning master—completely balanced.

As she got older, and after the affair, all she wanted to do was lie around and drink wine on a beach somewhere else. Part of him suspects she just can’t handle being here anymore.

The memories that cradle him haunt her.

Steve uses his shower to get it the fuck together. He does not think about Eddie or smooth pale skin or what his tan lines are gonna be like in a week or wonder if he’s thinking about Steve and if he is, what he’s doing about it. No, Steve doesn’t think about any of those things at all.

He presses his forehead and nose to the shower wall and takes a breath. He lets the water fall over his skin and tries to wash away all this achy want and desperation, tries to look at it from the other angle—not forward, but backwards.

Eddie isn’t going to be a forever thing, that much is clear, so if Steve wants to keep himself from falling into actual pieces, the best thing to do is to stop all this unhinged fantasy. Eddie may be a crush, and a boy, and a beautiful boy at that, but he doesn’t belong to Steve anymore than Nancy ever did, or Robin ever did, or any of those random girls he shared sheets with.

No, Eddie is an end-of-summer fling. Steve has to make peace with that. He’s not having a Nancy the Second where he obsesses long after his opportunity is over—he’s taking the opportunity and he’s making the most out of it, just like his mom had all those Augusts before.

His shower finishes swiftly after that, and he doesn’t even bother blow drying and styling his hair before he’s throwing on the nearest thing—shorts and a t-shirt—and hauling ass downstairs so he can get to a phone before Eddie’s done getting ready.

Of course, he knows Robin’s number by heart, but he suspects that’s not where she is.

“Hawkin’s Family Video, how can I—“

“Rob it’s me,” Steve says quickly, “I’ve gotta talk to you and I don’t have a lot of time so I need you to just shut up and listen.”

“Steven—“

“I kissed Eddie, er, Eddie kissed me—you know what it doesn’t matter, Eddie and I kissed and I really fucking liked it and I think him and I are going to have the most intense summer fling of my life and I’m kind of freaking out and I also need you to tell me if I can like girls and guys because I definitely like girls but I’m obsessed with Eddie—he’s like, genuinely gorgeous and I don’t even know what I want him to do to me because I’ve never even thought about how any of this works and I think I’m probably losing it but I have to take the opportunity where I can even though he said it could only be an August thing but I, like, genuinely like him too so that’s really confusing and, like, logistically when we get home what if being friends is too weird and—“

“Holy fuck.”

Steve stops short at her whispered profanity. He has never heard her sound like that, and then it gets louder—

“Holy fuck!”

“What?!”

“You’re into Eddie?! Steve—we’ve been trying to get you a date for months and you’re into fucking Eddie Munson who you whined about having to meet for weeks?!” Steve flinches.

“Don’t ever tell him that.”

“Incredible!” She is laughing almost uncontrollably. Steve really hopes there’s nobody in the store because if he were in family video and heard maniacal laughing like that he’d have the culprit committed pronto.

“Rob, seriously, I don’t have time for this—“

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell you were bi! That’s just—oh my god, of course.”

“Bi? What do you mean of course?” Steve asks, starting to get slightly offended.

“Star Wars? Indiana Jones? Blade Runner?! You’ve got a fat ass celebrity crush on Harrison Ford.”

Steve’s heard the term “shell-shocked” before, but he’d never really understood until this very moment. He might as well have been sucker-punched in the dick.

Of course.

Robin is laughing hysterically over the line, but he just feels like crying. Of course he likes men—is he stupid? Dumb question, yes he’s stupid. And it churns in his guts to think of all those kids who probably struggled through Hawkins High, knowing they were different, never knowing who or how to be, and he was just like them and yet there he was, excusing Tommy’s behavior and laughing along.

What a piece of actual shit.

“I'm an idiot,” he says weakly. Robin’s laughter dies abruptly.

“Hey—no. You’re not an idiot, it’s not always easy to—“

“I'm an idiot and a hypocrite,” Steve says, choking a little bit on the tears that slide down his cheeks, “God—I’m evil, Rob.”

“Steven, we’ve talked about this,” she says softly, “You didn’t—“

“Steve?”

Steve jumps and slams the phone into the receiver so hard a few wall decorations literally shake. He shouldn’t turn as fast as he does, should attempt to collect himself first, but he’s so surprised by Eddie’s sudden appearance he can’t even think to do that.

“I just—“

“Still need that week?”

Steve flinches. He puts the heel of his palm up against his forehead and takes a deep breath.

“No, but yes,” he says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feels, “I’ll wait if it’s what you want, but my mind’s made up.”

“Oh… so… what’s all… this about?”

Steve can’t help himself—he laughs a little. At least he’s got one thing up on Eddie, that being the ability to deal with people’s emotions arguably okay. Eddie certainly does not sound like he knows what to do in this situation.

“I just sucked,” he manages, but barely. He’s glad to have covered some of his face, because the tears are not stopping, and he feels like an idiot crying over something that’s ultimately his own fault.

He chose to be ignorant. He chose to be cruel. He chose popularity over sincerity.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate?”

Does he? Does he really?

“In highschool,” he groans, moving his hands to wipe tears away, sniffing hard. “I pushed around people—kids—who were just like me. I treated them like shit when I could have—”

Eddie’s arms close around him, fingers sliding into his wet hair, and Steve lets it happen—it feels like they’ve failed the “give it a week” stipulation already, but the embrace is good, and he needed it badly.

He doesn’t hug Eddie back, just lets himself be held.

“I’m gonna tell you something now, and if you tell anyone I did, I’ll fucking deny it.”

Steve takes a shaky breath.

“Okay.”

“Everybody sucks in high school,” Eddie says firmly. His fingers start to stroke across the back of Steve’s head and the feeling would have him absolutely catatonic if he wasn’t bent on hearing Eddie out— “Everyone. Kids like you, kids like me—we all had some chip on our shoulder, and some reason we were secretly better than everyone else. You were just… people just believed it about you.”

That doesn’t really make him feel better, because he knows that it wasn’t even anything about him they decided was better—it was his place on the basketball team (which had been mediocre at best) and his money and his hair and his last name and his friends and his charming manner and his pretty face—

Sports, money, hair—it’s all meaningless and stupid. It doesn’t matter, and this isn’t the first time Steve is realizing it, but it’s the first time he’s come to terms with the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and how he had abused that ridiculousness to its fullest extent. Not only had he abused it, he had enjoyed abusing it. And he routinely hurt people in the process, not to mention denying himself actual happiness and actual friends..

Fuck.

“I’m a bad person,” Steve whispers, and Eddie’s light petting turns into a firm grasp.

“A bad person wouldn’t feel shitty about this stuff,” Eddie argues, and then pulls back from the embrace, fixing Steve with those doe eyes and swallowing gaze, “And, I’ve got pretty high standards, like, Luke Skywalker standards.”

Steve smiles a little as Eddie reaches to brush away a few of his tears.

“I wouldn’t kiss a bad person, or agree to have a summer fling with them,” Eddie says, “And I wouldn’t bend the rules and let a bad person kiss me one more time to tide them over.”

Steve takes the opportunity for all it’s worth.

It taste like salt and spit because he’s still crying, but Eddie’s mouth is so soft and captivating that the kiss, which had every intention of being chaste, grows insistent and long. Eddie’s face in his hands, Eddie’s thumbs in his belt loops, the smell of shampoo and clean clothes and—

They break. Eddie smiles, letting a thumb pass over Steve’s lips.

“The week starts now.”

And, oh, is it bittersweet.

Friday, August 2nd—they spend what’s left of the day getting groceries, Eddie seemingly mesmerized by the small beach-town and its cobblestone streets and endless array of tourist traps. Every other storefront is a gift shop of useless trinkets, themed cafes, arcades, bars—if it’s going to empty your pockets, it’s there. Amidst all of it, though, there is a record store that’s genuinely cool, and if they hadn’t already purchased a crap-load of things that begged for a refrigerator, Steve would’ve been content to spend hours watching Eddie tear through the stacks, and then surprise him by buying every single thing he marveled at.

An idea for another day.

After that, they hang around the house, chatting, arguing, making pancakes for dinner—they get to bed at reasonable times, and despite how badly Steve wants to walk down the hall and crawl into bed with his… friend, he manages to just sleep instead, pillow trapped securely in his arms.

Saturday, August 3rd—ice cream for breakfast, which has them both giggly and on embarrassing sugar highs, so they decide today is a beach day.

Eddie’s unearthly, as usual, and excited like a child at the vastness of the ocean.

Excited or not, he’s still timid about getting in the water.

“What about the sharks?” he asks.

“Sharks don’t kill near as many people as cars do,” Steve points out.

“Really?”

“Really. Get in the water, Eds.”

“It’s still really weird to hear me call you that.”

“Get in the water, baby.”

Steve continues looking out at the ocean (not his favorite sight, because man, is that all kind of scary) even though he’s certain Eddie’s head whips towards him fast enough to break his own neck. Steve may be whipped, but he isn’t totally shit at flirting. Sure, he’s used to girls, but could it really be all that different?

A beat.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” Steve continues casually, “Let’s go.”

Once Eddie’s in the water he doesn’t want to get out of it, and Steve’s alright with that until he realizes how burnt Eddie is, and then practically has to drag him out and back up to the house so he can absolutely smother him with aloe vera.

“It doesn’t even hurt!”

“It will,” Steve chides, “You idiot—did you even put sunscreen on?”

“I forgot,” Eddie mumbles sheepishly.

“Of course you did.”

Sunday, August 4th—Eddie is too embarrassed of his cherry-tomato appearance to agree to go anywhere, so they stay in and watch old movies. Steve desperately wants Eddie to cuddle up next to him on the couch, but at the moment, the older boy is radiating heat and visibly in pain, so he understands when Eddie leaves a generous amount of space between them.

Monday, August 5th—Eddie’s burn settles into a tan and Steve avoids eye-contact with him for about an hour straight, because he’s glowing, and Steve wants to shove him onto the nearest flat surface and… well, he’s not exactly sure what he wants to do, but he’d do it enthusiastically.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Then look at me.”

Steve tentatively lifts his gaze.

“Was that so hard?”

Yes. It’s miserable. This is the bitter part of the week—not being able to act on all these steadily brewing feelings of want and need. He loves being here with Eddie, but he wants to be here with Eddie, too. He gets it—or at least, thinks he gets it. Eddie doesn’t want him to make a hasty decision, regret it, and ruin this vacation for both of them.

That makes sense. Too much sense, really.

But it doesn’t make waiting any easier.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Steve breathes, and Eddie physically starts.

“I—what?”

“Drop-dead, breathtaking, whatever you want,” Steve admits.

Eddie’s the first boy Steve ever called beautiful out loud, and he can’t help but think this is exactly how things are supposed to be.

Tuesday, August 6th—Steve enacts his plan of taking Eddie to the record store, and it’s everything he could have hoped. Eddie is downright euphoric every second, so distracted he doesn’t notice Steve picking up all the records he puts down (after ogling them for extended amounts of time), and so distraught about Steve buying them he doesn’t even argue—just watches with wide eyes as Steve chats up the cashier who bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair and can’t get a sentence out without stumbling over her words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the reason we came.”

“You… are you serious?”

“Consider this a thank-you for agreeing to a month-long vacation with a stranger.”

“I… don’t think I can accept this.”

“Too late.”

Wednesday, August 7th—Steve is cranky. He hates to admit it, but he’s tired of this. He’s not sure he can handle the next two days of no Eddie. Well, not exactly no Eddie, but like… half Eddie. He doesn’t like having half Eddie.

But he pushes it all down, because he’s going to obey Eddie’s one and only request, even though he knows his mind isn’t changing. If this week gives Eddie piece of mind, he'll deal with it.

Begrudgingly.

They go to an arcade and waste what’s probably hundreds of dollars for a sad amount of tickets and dogshit prizes—a collection of plastic shot glasses and a toy gun that doesn’t even shoot anything, but makes some unsettling noises when you pull the trigger.

They take the shot glasses as a sign to get tipsy that night, and end up drunk, daring each other this and daring each other that until the topic of skinny-dipping gets brought up.

“No, no—we can’t. There’s sharks at night!”

“In the pool, then!”

And then they’re stumbling drunk out towards the pool, shoving each other and yelling and laughing maniacally, and if Steve were anyone else he would say they were in love, but Steve’s not anyone else and he knows the time limit on all this, so he swallows that thought and focuses on getting rid of his shirt and pants without falling over. Then his socks, and—

He stills. He realizes, even through the fog of intoxication, this is a very precarious situation.

Despite how annoyed he is with the week, and how much he wishes Eddie would just say “fuck it” and change his mind, he knows it’s important. For Eddie, at least.

But Eddie’s naked in front of him and Steve can’t seem to remember how to function.

It only lasts a matter of moments, because soon Eddie’s in the water and teasing him about being a chicken, but Steve’s still thinking about everything he’s just seen, every inch of Eddie’s skin, how real all of him is in that water—

Steve can’t go a day, here, without being some sort of shaken to his core, can he?

“Get in the water, baby,” Eddie purrs.

“I can’t.” It falls out of Steve involuntarily—he’s drunk.

“Yes, you can.”

“How?”

“Lose the boxers, jump in the pool,” Eddie says, “It’s that easy.”

Steve shakes his head. Then swallows.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Steve—“

“I’m hard.”

He doesn’t realize it until he’s saying it, and then after it leaves him, understands that yeah. He’s fucking hard, and all that happened was Eddie getting naked in front of him. No contact, no sexual insinuation, just skin.

Eddie must be magic.

“I can see that.”

Steve is utterly mortified. He doesn’t know what to do except move his shirt (from where it had been clutched against his chest) to hide his growing erection. Now would’ve been a fantastic time to have whiskey dick.

“I… wanna finish the week,” Steve says softly. Eddie’s smirk dies on his face.

“Really?”

“I want you to trust me. I want… I want to do this for you.”

The look on Eddie’s face is foreign, and Steve doesn’t have the brain power available to figure out what it means, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Now that his intentions are clear, Steve drops the shirt and his boxers. A curious glance catches Eddie’s pupils dilating comically, but maybe that’s just from the alcohol.

Eddie backs away from the edge when Steve gets in the water, and they manage to keep their distance.

Barely.

Thursday, August 8th—Steve is itchy, and that’s all he has to report.

They lie around, swim in the pool, and walk on the beach. Nothing eventful, except he’s itchy with anticipation. He’s so close, so fucking close he can practically taste the sweat and salt on Eddie’s skin.

It’s not enough.

Friday, August 9th—midnight tonight and Steve is finally free.

They go for coffee, they hang around—and by hang around, he means Eddie hangs around his periphery as he scours every available source for something they can do tonight, because he has to take his mind off midnight

A bar with an indie band will do.

He tells Eddie about it, who’s got his nose in a book—

“That’s a good one,” Steve tells him.

“Really?”

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a textbook when I picked it up,” Eddie says, flipping a page.

“So did I,” Steve admits, moving around the couch. Eddie scoots for him so they can lie side by side. This is without any real words or indications—Eddie just knows, and he knows when Steve lies down next to him that they’re reading together, now, and asks him quietly if he can turn the page.

The summer home, tucked away in its own little corner of beach-front paradise, has a history far more interesting than the tale at hand, so I will tell it in hopes it makes my story a little fuller, a little brighter—Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name—

Steve likes this one a lot. He likes Augustine and Betty and James and the drama of it all, and the house on the beach, and all the twisting metaphors, and the way T.S. writes like she’s got a feather in her palm rather than a keyboard at her fingertips. Most of all, he likes that she begins and ends each chapter with a poem, and that his parents had lifted “Holiday House” from this book and plastered it across their own property. He likes that the novel lives here on the shelves of a place named after it. He likes that Eddie’s reading it, now, too.

They read together through chapters four, five, six, seven, and eight. Eddie seems invested, but the time it’s taken them to get here is enough to have practically starved them both.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” Steve says as Eddie turns to chapter nine, “Keep reading.”

“Without you?”

“I’ve already read it.”

Steve gets up off the couch, missing the warmth Eddie’s body had been exuding, but his hunger supersedes his desire to crawl back onto the couch and fall asleep on Eddie’s chest.

Tonight.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Should be one in the desk in the sunroom,” Steve replies without a second thought, “What’re you hungry for?”

That night they go to the aformentioned bar, Eddie get’s a little tipsy, and they have a fantastic time (at first). The band is beyond good, the crowd is loud, and by 10 P.M. these two girls have joined them, and Steve and Eddie are having a hell of a time chatting them up.

Ally and Aubree—neither of which are Steve’s type, but are arguably gorgeous. Blond, sunkissed, wreaking of tequila and sunscreen and cheap perfume. He’s finding it very funny to chat with Aubree (he’s pretty sure it’s Aubree) knowing full well he’ll be pedal-to-the-metal gunning it home at midnight. Maybe he and Eddie won’t even make it out of the car. Maybe they’ll go out to the parking lot and it’ll already be too late for them, falling all over each other into the back-seat while Ally and Aubree disappointedly hunt for different prey.

It dawns on Steve, then, he’s sort of being an ass, but so far, nothing in he and Aubree’s conversation has explicitly alluded to going home together. For all he knows, she’s gonna go home and jump Ally’s bones--same deal as him.

The same, however, cannot be said for Eddie, who is clearly too good at flirting for his own good, and has Ally completely hooked. Steve can’t help glancing over now and again, watching them closely, not feeling jealousy, but more… awe? He’s incredibly impressed with Eddie’s performance.

“You think she’s hotter?”

Steve starts.

“What?!”

“You think Ally’s hotter than me,” Aubree states again, voice loud over the music and the crowd, but not loud enough for it to catch Ally or Eddie’s attention.

“No—I—”

Eddie and Ally get up from the table. Something inside Steve’s guts sinks, and sinks low. He watches them disappear into the crowd. He swallows. He turns back to Aubree.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he says, honestly, “I’m just not looking for a hookup tonight.”

Aubree grins at the compliment. Steve tries to keep his cool, but he’s feeling the exact opposite of cool. He is, in fact, spiraling. He realizes, in this moment, Eddie may not be attracted to that girl, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not going to oblige her.

Steve had thought this was all fun and games, but now he just wants to throw up.

Not that it’s any of his business what Eddie does. Not that Eddie’s obligated to stick to only him this summer. It’s a fling, afterall.

A fling.

“You wanna dance?” Aubree asks.

"What?"

She points, "Dance!"

The indie-folk vibe is not incredibly conducive to dancing, but Steve’s up for anything if it takes his mind off Eddie and that girl. That girl. Eddie had said verbatim he was gay, right?

He allows himself to be led to the dance floor.

He tries to forget.

He feels sick.

In the car on the drive back, Steve knows he’s being eerily quiet. He knows Eddie is uncomfortable with his silence. He knows he should turn on the radio, or say something, but all he wants to do is ask if Eddie kissed that girl, if maybe he did something worse than that, and if he had, Steve desperately wants to know how and why and what the logistics of hooking up with some random girl in Maine were when Eddie had said he was gay, and if all gay men could just hook up with women, and if all Eddie had to do was think of Mark Hamil or some other nice guy and that was good enough for him, because a hole is a hole and—

“Are you pissed, or something?”

Eddie’s tone is already accusatory, and it just makes Steve feel worse.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel.”

Eddie scoffs.

“Then don’t act like a kicked puppy because I made out with some random chick at a bar.”

Made out.

Steve goes so quiet it’s like he’s not even breathing, at this point. He feels the urge to cry burning at the back of his skull and he fights it, hard. He knows it’s not his place to be upset—they never said anything about them being exclusive this summer. Steve was flirting with Aubree somewhat, too, and danced with her, even.

Not really because he’d wanted to, but still.

Steve swallows.

“Are you pissed at me?”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave the road, but his hands grip the wheel so tightly his knuckles are an unnatural shade of white compared to the rest of his skin. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him—all the more reason not to cry. He’s fighting tooth and nail for it. He doesn’t get why this all feels so bad. He doesn’t get why he’s so upset.

Maybe he had just expected tonight to be their night.

But that’s stupid, isn’t it? “Why the fuck would I be mad at you?”

Steve’s turn to scoff—he has no idea why Eddie would be mad, but it’s hard to believe he isn’t when he sounds so goddamn angry.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know?”

“At least I’m not mad.”

“I’m not mad—” Eddie’s getting madder every second.

They pull into the driveway and Steve stops abruptly, pretty much wrenching the key out of the ignition and kicking the driver door open the way Eddie had done to the passenger.

It’s a little satisfying, he will admit.

He stalks up the driveway, because now he is mad, and hurt, and feeling like he’s been betrayed even though he hasn’t been. He wants to sleep it off. He has to sleep it off. “Now who’s the mad one?!” Eddie calls after him, and Steve's resolve snaps like a twig. He spins around, tears flowing, anger spilling.

“You don’t even like girls!” he yells. Eddie’s so taken aback he literally takes a step back, even though there’s a whole driveway of space between them. “What the fuck kind of asshole makes a guy wait an entire week to be with him, and then two-hours before the week is up, runs off to make out with some random bitch?!"

He hadn't meant that, the bitch part, but it feels so good to say it now, even though he'll feel guilty about it later.

“Why do you care so much?!” Eddie yells back, so furious now he’s literally red in the face— “You’re gonna do the exact same shit a month from now!”

“Says who?!” Steve shouts, “Who the fuck said September 1st is gonna roll around and I’m suddenly not gonna be fucking obsessed with you, Eddie?! Because I have been fucking dying for this week to be over, and it’s gonna fucking kill me to go home, but I’m gonna do it for you, okay?!”

His chest is heaving. He can feel the red in his cheeks and the salt on his tongue. He is, for maybe the hundredth time, utterly pathetic. But he can’t stop himself.

“Steve—”

“If we’re doing this,” he says, “We’re doing this. You’re mine for twenty-two fucking days. I. Like. You."

Steve turns on his heel and storms inside, leaving the door to Holiday House hanging wide open. As angry as he is, he doesn’t want to risk slamming it shut and having Eddie turn and go. This way, Steve at least knows he’ll follow him inside to shut and lock the door.

He trudges up the stairs and into his room, leaving that door open, too. He peels out of his shirt and unbuckles his belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it angrily to the floor. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to put himself back in order, halting the flow of tears and taking deep breaths to soothe his anger.

“I’m sorry,” comes quietly from the doorway, “I just—I didn’t know it was serious for you.”

That seems ridiculous, all things considered.

“It’s not for you?”

There’s a long quiet. Steve doesn’t have it in himself to turn around. He should’ve known what he was feeling wasn’t reciprocated—Steve’s not the kind of guy Eddie wants or needs, and for some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for that, even though he knew it all along. He should be grateful, take what he can get, but all he feels is—

“I was trying to… I thought you would feel better about all this if you thought I didn’t care,” Eddie admits. “I thought if you knew how much I fucking liked you, you wouldn’t let me have you at all.”

Steve spins around, hands on his hips, chest still heaving.

“What time is it?”

Eddie blinks. He looks thoroughly disheveled, still red, and sheepish, like somehow he’s humiliated himself. In a few ways, he has acted like a fucking fool, but Steve is no less attracted to the idiot now than he was before. He did a stupid fucking thing, but Steve has done a hundred stupid fucking things in his life, and he’ll do a hundred fucking more. Eddie's logic is sort-of sound, he just wishes he would've said something to Steve instead of taking it out on some random girl.

“What?”

“What. Time. Is. It?” Steve demands again. Eddie stammers, eyes darting around the room until they land on the alarm clock on Steve’s bedside table.

“Twelve-thirty? Are we—”

Steve doesn’t let him finish.

He surges forward and seizes Eddie by the face, bringing their mouths together insistently, all tongue and teeth and spit and bitter remnants of tears. Eddie get’s hands on his ass and he moans about it, which spurs the older boy forward, and they go tumbling back into Steve’s bed.

I love you, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against his throat before he's sucking and biting and soothing with his tongue and Steve is reduced to sensation--Eddie's body on top of his, knee between his thighs, bedsheets against his back--

“Prove it,” Steve breathes.

And he does—over and over and over again.

End Part 2

(Previous Part)

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thyandrawrites · 2 years

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Aren't the villains just as dismissive? Tbh I don't think there is any way of getting through to the villains even if they shown empathy. I hope I'm wrong though but this is the final arc and nobodies stance has changed and I don't see it changing but fingers crossed that things will change but I think there needs to half way meeting between both sides before things begin moving forward if it does.

It's true that the villains aren't stepping down from their points, but it's not on them to do that. The villains are not the ones responsible for the social injustice of their system. They are canonically a minority that the HPSC has repeatedly tried to silence with state-sanctioned assassinations.

And while it's also true that there needs to be a middle ground somewhere (the villains cannot be saved so long as they keep killing and the heroes can't save so long as they kill their targets), please note that the ones actively seeking a dialogue here are the villains.

Dabi's broadcast was aimed at people thinking more critically about the blind trust they put in heroes. He wanted them to ask heroes for more accountability in his stead, because he knew heroes would never listen to him. He didn't just want justice for himself or he would've simply killed Endvr. He wanted a fairer society to stop people like Endvr from doing what he did for two decades and getting away with it.

Shigaraki made a whole speech on the battlefield of the first war about how heroes constantly trample over the individuals for the sake of an abstract greater good. He addressed how thinking only of the masses creates pockets of evil under the heroes' noses. Shigaraki's whole shtick is that he was kidnapped and groomed by a supervillain because he was left wandering the streets for days, bloodied and traumatized, and the heroes of his neighborhood had so many bigger fishes to fry that they never noticed he needed help too.

And though we might argue that as an adult he's now vowed to cause indiscriminate destruction without dialogue because that's what AFO groomed him for, we can also argue that when Shigaraki is not directly under his abuser's influence, he makes choices that show us he actually does want that dialogue. Remember, he seeked out Deku at that mall and explained his whole villain manifesto to him. He told Deku all about how their society functions on this search for an abstract greater good and ignores individual in immediate danger. And he demonstrated it, too. He had deadly fingers on Deku's throat and no one blinked twice or stepped in to investigate, because "heroes would deal with it". He wanted Deku to acknowledge this. This is such a hangup of his that he brings it up again in the war arc as well. And no has given him an appropriate response still.

Then there's Toga, and she's the one who most clearly proves this. The heroes' argument is that they can't listen to the points presented to them because the villains hurt their friends. So long as the villains don't own up to their crimes, they say, that sours any good argument they might've had. Which is hypocritical as hell. The heroes also killed Toga's best friend and refused accountability for it. In fact, they let Hawks stay a hero.

Yet, despite all this, Toga was still able to put her grief in a box and set it aside for ten minutes, and seeked out Uraraka to attempt a dialogue anyway. A villain, who the heroes keep referring to as an immature, hedonistic and selfish freak, had more emotional maturity than any of them. She went to Uraraka to understand what a villains' life is worth to heroes. Ochako's response confirmed her suspicion; to their society, Jin wasn't human enough to deserve compassion. His death served the greater good, so it doesn't matter if he left friends behind, if people cared about him. It doesn't matter if heroes hurt Toga's friends, but it's a death sentence if Toga hurts the heroes' friends.

So.

Why should the villains act less dismissive? They tried fitting in and it didn't work. They tried setting out a conversation with heroes and it also didn't work. What the heroes wanted from them is what hero society always wanted from any disturbance to the status quo—either take it in silence, or to get erased as a threat.

The villains are literally fighting for their lives here, meanwhile the heroes are just fighting to maintain their privileges. It's not even remotely a fair fight. That's why it's on the heroes to change their attitude first

#Ali replies #my post #I get that this isn't a popular opinion but like #The heroes are using self-righteousness as a shield #They don't want to change #But they want the prize that comes after changing #And that simply cannot work #If it didn't for enji it can't for them either

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mvshortcut · 10 months

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Ranking every time the Ten Men get taken down by how cringe fail they are (Part 2)

Warning: this post contains major spoilers for Riddle of Ages!

We're back again already, folks. Part 1 is here; now it's time for round 2 of some good old pointing and laughing.

Book 4: The Riddle of Ages

first appearance of my problematic faves the Katz brothers! There's always gotta be one cowardly goon in the lot, and the Scaredy Katz fulfill their role admirably. This knockout isn't too cringe-worthy, although the dramatic "Now!" [immediately gets knocked out] is quite comical, as well as the image of him trying to run on his knees. 3/10

And here we have Garrotte being painfully average once again. Although this one is made more interesting by the fact that he and Sharpe apparently jumped some random businessmen on the street and stole their completely normal briefcases, then had the audacity to be surprised when said completely normal briefcases didn’t hold up well in a combat scenario. It’s almost as if they’re designed to hold paperwork, not fend off a flurry of tranquilizer darts. Who would’ve thunk. Also. You could literally walk into any Home Depot and find dozens of items more suited for this purpose, which the Ten Men easily could’ve done if they weren’t so darn committed to the stonks bit.

Also, “Most unfair! Such shoddy materials!” is the funniest possible thing you could say upon getting knocked out. It’s giving “trust fund kindergartener encounters Crayola crayons during art class for the first time ever.” Please just say “god damn it” like a normal person. 4/10

See this one is so funny to me. You're telling me that the infamous shock watches, which have terrorized several of our beloved characters over the course of the series, can be defeated simply by doing simple gymnastics? it's giving "show Sticky doing long division in his head to defeat Curtain's infamous Happiness brainwashing." Also, you're telling me you can knock out people simply by throwing darts at them? wild. anyways. I love Katz getting knocked out mid-threatening leap. 5/10

diversity win! Milligan won't kill you but he isn't above shooting you in the ass! 7/10

sorry this is so long but we need the full context to appreciate how cringe this is. imagine you brought five (5) of your best men to locate SQ Pedalian, a young adult not particularly skilled in combat, and also to fight a teenage girl. And now it's gone so sideways that you're literally the last one left standing. Standing, on top of an ice cream truck that you pushed on top of your opponent, who is now trapped beneath and yet has his hands casually laced behind his head as if he's tanning on the beach. And you got tricked into standing there, pinned by an empty gun, and simply watching while he loads darts into the (previously empty) gun. And now he's just shooting a bunch of empty darts at you, one after another, while you have to stand there and wait for him to finally knock you out. I think I would disintegrate on the spot. Also "You wouldn't shoot me in the face. That's not your style" bestie you just watched him shoot Sharpe in the ass. Would you prefer that instead? 9/10

This one might take the cake. First of all, they all fell for the trap, so now they're stuck in jail again like 3 days after escaping. And then, the teenage girl you've been terrorizing for years finally turns your stupid condescending pet names right back on you before a nine year old uses her mind powers to make you knock yourself out with your own weapon. 🫵 CRINGE. 10/10

Still very cringe, though less so than McCracken. It's kinda funny that Constance made them use their shockwatches instead of the (less painful) handkerchiefs. 6/10

Y'know, given the Katz brother's astounding loser energy, I'm amazed that they might actually have the least cringe take down. Taking the coward's way out. I respect it. Love them staring out the window. sad tigger gif here. Bonus points for ratting out Crawlings for being awful. 1/10 and two gold star stickers for them both

And, finally, for the grand finale, our favorite cringe boy is back:

Crawlings is making up for having fewer appearances in this book by making his COUNT. and YIKES. I literally have to step away every time I read this. From the supervillain monologue, to everyone groaning at him and then simply ignoring him (knowing what's about to happen), to Crawlings immediately poisoning and temporarily paralyzing himself the SECOND he gets a chance to be the Final Girl. And then he gets thrown back into jail. Plus the fact that he's on the floor about to pass out still wondering when the "Genius Serum" will kick in. uhhh. y'know, Crawlings, I might not be a genius either, but I have the slightest inkling that all may not be going according to plan. 11/10

And there we have it folks! The final rankings are:

Hertz: 6

The Katz Brothers: 9

Garrotte: 14

Sharpe: 22

McCracken: 35

And, in first place, with 36 points, our beloved Crawlings.

In conclusion,

#I put way too much time into this #I was surprised McCracken and Crawlings were so close #McCracken gets taken down less frequently but that means his are so much more cringe-worthy #the mysterious benedict society #tmbs #crawlings #mccracken #sharpe #garrotte #hertz #the katz brothers #ten men #the ten men

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cleolinda · 1 year

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So I tried Black Opium Extreme again

A relatively simple installment this week: remember how I tried this one and got nothing but jasmine? Well, I remembered two things:

I tried this on my wrist, not the back of my hand.

I tried it only a couple days after the sample arrived in the mail, rather than letting it settle for a couple of weeks.

I cannot tell you why either of these things make a difference. All I can tell you is that I wore Black Opium Extreme again, and suddenly it was an intense mocha (more a chocolate supported by coffee than the other way around, on me) with an undertone of licorice. In fact, through the lifespan of the perfume, the white floral blend (jasmine and orange blossom) was the least noticeable. I mean, it was there, but you could smell it as part of all the other notes, not standing unto itself. And if you look up there in the original post, jasmine was all I got. Even after the coffee-chocolate-licorice fades, it's not really the jasmine that comes out; it's more of the pear-heavy gourmand I remember from getting vaguely sprayed with the original Black Opium at an Ulta.

And I have also been able to (re)try the original. Let's compare the notes for a moment:

Black Opium (2014): Pear, pink pepper, orange blossom, coffee, jasmine, bitter almond, licorice, vanilla, patchouli, cashmere wood (Cashmeran), cedar.

Black Opium Extreme (2021): Black coffee, cacao, mandarin orange, lemon, pear, jasmine (grandiflorum? sambac?), orange blossom, bourbon vanilla, patchouli.

(For the record: the creators are Nathalie Lorson, Marie Salamagne, Olivier Cresp and Honorine Blanc.)

The newer variant is advertised as being very heavy on the "dark" gourmand notes, especially the coffee, and when I finally got Extreme to cooperate, that's what I got. Licorice isn't listed, but I feel like that's a big ol' lie, because I smell it more clearly here than in the original. Who knows? Not me.

As for the original, we gotta put an asterisk by this, because what I have is a very old Sephora sample (but less than ten years old). I think it aged really nicely, but I can't tell you for sure if the balance of the fragrance has changed—have the basenotes gotten stronger, has something else faded, what have you.

The original opens with the fruity pear-citrus blast that nearly choked me out while shopping; gradually the gourmand notes come out as a sort of pear cupcake foundation. I mostly read the (remember: aged) sample as a vanilla cupcake rather than a coffee or chocolate one, with those notes and the patchouli (which has probably aged very smoothly) subconsciously giving the base more weight. It doesn't come off like a mocha latte; it smells very Vanilla, and very Cake, and eventually, that's the scent left behind once the fruits have gone home. The white floral is still wound up in there, but again, you wouldn't really think of this as "floral" or "blooming," as opposed to the way that the Samsara EdT smelled oddly fresh and airy for a heavily sandalwood fragrance. So: A fresh batch of Black Opium might smell very different, but with this sample, that's what I get. The Extreme version is meant to bring the coffee and chocolate out and put it on top, so that checks out.

What any of this has to do with opium, or even Opium (1977), I do not know.

The thing that intrigues me is that I keep seeing jasmine/licorice combinations in perfume; I've been having a little trouble distinguishing licorice-anise notes, so I've been researching that. By researching, I mean "eating actual licorice candy even though I don't like it." The short version is that licorice, anise, star anise, fennel, and even magnolia blossoms all have a very characteristic smell/taste (granted, I have never eaten a magnolia blossom), and that common denominator is the compound anethole. That's what I'm looking into.

Jasmine sambac (aka night-blooming jasmine, mogra, sampaguita, melati putih, "Arabian jasmine") doesn't seem to have any anethole, but I'm convinced that it blends particularly well with licorice (etc.). As it turns out, I have a sample of Nemat's "Mogra," just because I like jasmine, and will you look at that: mogra is jasmine sambac. It's exactly what's in Black Opium(s). I don't care what anyone says, that's what it is. And jasmine sambac apparently has a scent that, if not containing anethole, is damn compatible with it; either I haven't learned to distinguish licorice very well yet, or they just blend together that well.

And I noticed that the jasmine/licorice combination is in two other fragrance samples I have: the original, eponymous Lolita Lempicka (1997), and the (for some reason completely different) eau de parfum concentration of HYPNOTIC POISON. So I'll be reporting back on those soon.

Perfume discussion masterpost

#perfume #perfume discussion #perfume: ysl #note: jasmine #note: licorice #long post #updates

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k3yreviewer25 · 8 months

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written for @b1rdza's mtiys prompt of 'first kiss'

i know I'm super late to the party with this, but writings been really hard recently for some reason and i got tired of looking at this, so 👍

"Okay, truth or dare?"

"Uhhhhh, truth."

"Are you sick of playing this game yet?"

"Yes."

"... Guess we should've brought a pack of cards or something, huh?"

Tubbo rolled his head over to look at Ranboo, curled up on his own cot on the other side of the room. With the mansion being basically completed, the two of them had decided to spend a night in it, get a feel for the space. What they hadn't accounted for was getting sleepover jitters. And with their new bedroom being so freaking huge, they'd both agreed that sleeping in the closet would feel more cozy.

Tubbo sat up. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I mean, sleep, obviously, but-" Ranboo sat up as well. "-I think I might remember the way up to the roof? If you wanna stargaze."

That did sound pretty nice. Tubbo began gathering up his blanket. "Yeah, sure."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He shouldn't have trusted Ranboo of all people when he said he remembered the way up there. After at least ten minutes of walking, Tubbo was pretty sure they'd gone down a floor. Eventually, they ended up in the kitchen, which had been partially furnished with cabinets and a fridge.

"So this is, um, this isn't it," Ranboo said. "Oops."

"Yeah, no kidding." Tubbo began rooting through random cabinets. "Maybe Foolish left snacks, or something though- Oh! Bingo!"

Straightening up, he held up an unopened wine bottle. Ranboo looked dubious. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, with going on the roof and all?"

"One bottle between the two of us is hardly gonna do anything, believe me," Tubbo said. "But if you want, we could just go back to bed and hang out there."

Ranboo nodded. "Yeah, that sounds fine. And I, um, I don't think I remember how to get up to the roof anyway."

"Maybe we can get Foolish to draw us a map."

They managed to get back to their room all right, thankfully. Back in the closet, Tubbo dragged his cot over next to Ranboo's and pried the cork out of the bottle. The wine was pretty good, as far as wines went; tasted like sweet berries. He passed it to Ranboo and watched him take a swig.

"You know, only a few more days, and then we can start actually moving in here," Tubbo mused. "Crazy, right?"

"Yeah, seriously. Feels like not that long ago when you first started Snowchester."

Well, all things considered, it really hadn't been all that long ago, had it? A couple months. And with all that had happened in those couple months, time had just flown by. It was like a whole year's worth of life had gone by. Ranboo handed the bottle back. Tubbo took it, but didn't drink.

"Hey, Ran?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Wanna play truth or dare some more?"

"Really man?"

"But-" Tubbo held up a finger for emphasis. "-there's a pass option. You can either answer the question / do the dare, or you can take a drink. Whoever's drank less by the end wins."

After a moment of pondering, Ranboo nodded. "Sure, why not?"

"Great! So, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you actually like my cooking?"

"Um, I, uh- pass?"

Tubbo clicked his tongue as he handed the bottle back over. "For shame, man, for shame. After all the love I put into those meals."

"And all the salt."

"Food needs salt, dude!"

"Not that much-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to use less salt next time you cook."

"Pass!" The next sip went down even smoother than the first. The inclusion of alcohol was already making this more fun than before. "Truth or dare?"

"I'll also go dare."

"Dare you to let me message someone on your comm."

"...Deal."

He'd thought for sure that that would've been a pass. Now he just had to actually come up with something.

"I'm already regretting this," Ranboo said, watching Tubbo warily.

"Oh, come on, would I ever do anything to embarrass you?" He grinned as Ranboo gave him a flat stare. Drafting up a quick message, he sent it and handed the comm back. "And you have to wait for him to see it before you send another message."

Ranboo groaned when he looked at the screen. "Really? Techno?"

"Yup. So?"

"Truth or dare?"

As the game went on, the bottle got lighter and lighter, and Tubbo's head got more and more airy, until finally there was only a single sip left. Tubbo swished it around absentmindedly, the bottle's neck loose in his hand.

"Wait, is it my turn or yours?" Ranboo asked. One fun thing they were learning tonight was that apparently alcohol did not help his memory problems in the slightest.

"I think yours." Of course, the alcohol wasn't really helping Tubbo's memory either. "Truth or dare?"

"I'll go......... truth."

"Have you..." Prime, he was so tired. He needed to come up with some question to make Ranboo pass so that they could finish the bottle. "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"Oh, um-" His cheeks were a beautiful shade of magenta. "Yeah."

The bottle almost slipped out of his hand. "Wait, really?"

"You don't have to sound that surprised," Ranboo huffed, crossing his arms. "I had a life before I came here. I wasn't just- just sitting in a room eating crackers for 16 years."

"I know, I know, I just didn't really- I dunno, I've never really thought about it."

"About what, me kissing people?"

"I guess so." Though, now that he had thought about it- "You any good at it?"

That was a weird question, wasn't it? Ranboo shrugged. "I dunno, I guess?"

"You guess."

"I mean, I didn't really, like, ask for feedback or anything. We just kinda- it happened and then we moved on." He shook his head. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"Pass!" Chugging the last sip, he set the bottle on the floor and flopped onto his back. "G'night!"

"Oh. Yeah, good- good night." Ranboo's cot creaked as he got himself settled onto it. "And, um, sorry if that was out of line. The question, I mean."

Tubbo snorted. "Nah, it's fine. Just wanted an excuse to drink. If you're actually curious, I haven't."

"Oh. Are you, like, not interested, or..."

"I mean, I wouldn't say I'm not interested, just been pretty busy for like- past couple years, ya know? Kinda hard to fit in smooching between the wars and shit. And it's not like anyone was lining up for it or anything."

"I can imagine. About the wars and stuff, not- Sorry, that didn't come out right."

"I get it, man, I get it," Tubbo said, waving a hand. "Not like I'm winning any beauty pageants any time soon."

"You know that's not what I meant." He sounded so offended that Tubbo rolled over to face him.

"I know, I know, I'm just teasing. I know you find me irresistibly attractive." Even in the dark, he could see the blush spreading over Ranboo's face. He was practically glowing. "You're pretty when you blush."

Prime, he really needed to not talk when he'd been drinking. But Ranboo did look pretty, the purplish hue really bringing out the vibrancy of his eyes. He was like a big glow stick. A really pretty, really tall glow stick.

"I think you're pretty too. Or, um, handsome, I guess is- would be a better word."

Tubbo's stomach twisted; ugh, he'd probably drank too much. He rolled onto his back. "You don't have to say that. I'm not gonna get offended or anything."

"But I do," Ranboo said, propping himself up on his elbow. "I really do think you're handsome."

He really did sound earnest about it too. But he had to be lying, if not maliciously, then out of nicety. "Right, five things, go."

"What?"

"Five things that you think make me handsome or whatever."

"Oh, easy." He leaned over Tubbo, an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, and counted on his fingers. "One, you have really nice eyes-"

Only one eye, really.

"-Two, I like your nose-"

What was left of it.

"-Three, you have really cute ears-"

Well, okay, that was a given. Goat ears were adorable.

"-Four, I think your scars look really badass-"

"Wow, a rare swear from Mr. Ranboo Beloved."

"'Ass' isn't really a swear though? And five, you're confident and smart and I- I really admire that." There he was again, sounding so damn sincere. He must be at least a little bit sincere, because he'd rattled those off so quickly. And he was actually looking Tubbo in the face, which he never did. Tubbo's stomach swooped as Ranboo bent down towards him. "And- and if no one else is in line for it, I would really like to kiss you."

It didn't surprise Tubbo like he thought it would. Maybe because he's imagined Ranboo saying it before. But in all those imaginings, Tubbo always said something suave in return, made Ranboo blush, and then swept him off his feet. Now his mouth was dry as he croaked out, "Y-yup. Sounds good."

It was only when Ranboo's face was an inch away from his that he remembered to close his eyes, cause lord knows he didn't want to be the guy that kept his eyes open during a kiss, and then lips were pressed to his.

It wasn't- bad, he didn't think, though the taste of the wine on their breaths was a bit overwhelming. Shit, they really should've brushed their teeth first.

A tingle ran down his spine as Ranboo's hand slid around the back of his head, pulling him in closer, fingers tangling in his hair-

Wait, should he be doing something with his hands? They were just folded over his stomach, suddenly feeling all too heavy and tense. Raising a hand, he slowly moved it up to Ranboo's face, careful that he didn't end up poking him in the eye or something. His cheek was smooth, and fit so well into Tubbo's palm.

And then, all too soon, Ranboo's lips left his, though he kept his forehead pressed tight against Tubbo's. This was nice too; just feeling the breath on his face, and the fingers combing through his hair.

Yeah, he could totally get used to this.

#cbeeduo #hope this is actually good I've gone blind to it at this point

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