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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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fuck your inhibition. | k. bakugou

♢ tags ; very big age gaps (19 years), questionable ethics, ex deliquent / runaway reader (22), fighting / violence, brief mentions of living on the streets, retired pro-hero bakugou (41), emotionally charged sex, afab + masc!reader, top!reader, bottom bakugou, reader is really rough around the edges, backstory for reader, arguing, oral (both receiving),rimming (m!recieving), strap-ons (not a dom thing. no particular power dynamics), prone-bone, dirty talk, size difference (reader is smaller but no specifics), happy endings sort of.

no explicitly gendered terms for reader. usage of words like clit / cunt for readers body parts. reader is implied bisexual.

(also while this fic is certainly intended to be read as masc., it can just as easily be read as completely gn.)

♢ wc ; 10.2k (two days. this is so alarming)

♢ a/n ; happy birthday to my favorite guy. sorry in advance. this fic is so disgustingly self-indulgent. str8 self-inserty ngl. i simply dont want to look at it djskfgdf. this fic is pretty tame tho age gap aside. been a while since ive written for him. title is from "lemme know" by vince staples

♢ synopsis ; who knew that the boudoir pictures you've been getting off too your whole life would look so much better in person?

You’re not convinced there’s any way to get used to getting your lights knocked out.

At this point, your fighting prowess is good enough that you can dodge swings from even heavy handed opponents. Just agile enough to bob and weave. Your reflexes are good too, from years of getting into with cops or otherwise. So getting absolutely dusted in a single, swift motion is not a frequent occurrence.

That’s why you are sorely caught off guard when it happens to you in the back of an alleyway, tucked into a corner of Osaka—a long ways from home.

You were fucked from the minute you stepped foot off the train; you knew that instinctively. You haven’t been back in years and it’s not like you’re here for leisure. And sure, you took the job knowing there was some possibility you’d run into some old foes but shit. They couldn’t’ve waited till the week was over?

3 days in and your life as a runaway comes back to bite you in the ass. Worse, they catch in front of the very storefront you were working up the nerve to visit at the end of the week. If that old man catches you 1. making a ruckus in front of his cherished bakery and 2. fighting like those “worthless punks” that he openly detests, he’s definitely gonna be on your ass.

It’s amidst conflict, you decide to take the beating and wait it out. Hopefully, whatever higher power is looking over you will let you get out without busting your lip.

But fuck, this last hit is leaving you worse for wear. You blink your eyes open and you’re still surrounded by him and his bunch of goons. What was this dudes name again…? Aka…Aka-something, you think. Without warning, you get another punch, a clean left-hook - this time to your side. You cough at the sensation.

Ah, life is so unfair to you.

He grabs you by the front of your collar, dragging you upwards until you’re nose to nose. This fuckers breath is hot. Something warm slips down your nose, a rivulet of blood over your lips. You grunt.

“I should’ve beat the shit out of you the first time.”

You blink slowly as you regain your vision and sense. Despite many transgressions and altercations, your time in Osaka as a fugitive is notable. This bunch of fiends are a somewhat half-assed motorbike gang. It’s an old story. You stole and ruined not one, not two, but four of their bikes total. In your defense you were a young kid scrounging for change - hotwiring and deconstructing for parts was always pretty profitable. And stealing flashy bikes was a hell of a lot easier than scratching up your knees in the scrap yard.

Ah, there was that other thing too. Why you’re pretty sure this guy has held such a grudge against you for god knows how long. Irritable with a bad sense of self-preservation, you give up on behaving well.

“Yeah? No need to sulk now, right?” You grin, hands practically itching to throw him onto the ground. A familiar sense of adrenaline burns in your stomach. You should just hit him, but you don’t - instead opting to aim where you know it’s gonna piss him off most “How’s your little sister by the way?”

Red flashes in his eyes, nose puffed like a bull. Despite your self-satisfaction, you close your eyes and pray to god he doesn’t actually kill you. There’s still some ass you have to tap before you die and it’d be a real shame to die only inches away. You cover your face when his fist winds up. Riling him up was probably a bad move.

Before you get your lights punched out forreal, an angel comes to rescue you.

“Oi, you fuckin’ punks—go take this shit somewhere else or I’m gonna singe every last goddamn hair on your head.”

You smile, almost drunk on the adrenaline. An angel, indeed. A cursing, blonde, abrasive angel.

“Oh, shit—we gotta get outta here. That dude Dynamight doesn’t fuck around”

Before you know it, said group of miscreants disperses like a swarm of flies. You find yourself stumbling back against a bunch of crates, back hitting them and sliding down, snagging in your work clothes. The leader says something about “not being finished with you yet,” but you don’t catch it with how your ears are ringing in your skull.

You rub your eyes and groan, seeing double. When you open them again, your favorite blonde old man is standing in front of you. Arms crossed over his chest, sporting that signature glare you’re so fond of.

Your head is throbbing. Fuck it hurts.

You only manage one sentence before promptly blacking out.

“Did I die and go to heaven?”

—

You wake up in a familiar bed.

A bed you spent a lot of time resting in when you were out at on the streets here, something like four years ago now. The memories of the time aren’t entirely pleasant - being a homeless runaway was pretty shit. But meeting your life long hero (and getting your rocks off in his bed) are quite fond regardless. You’re surrounded by nice, white linen sheets that you’re pretty sure cost more than you make in a month. He’s not really much of a flashy character despite his career, but he does have an eye for the finer things.

You haven’t been back here in a while. Since moving to a different prefecture, you haven’t had any good reason to come see him. This week was a good excuse for just that. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening like this, but you can’t really win 'em all. You’d consider being back here a win on your part regardless.

The fact that you’re here instead of molding in the pouring rain means that he dragged you up there by himself. A fact you try not to put too much stock into, because he’s still a pro even if he’s retired. What makes it hard not to feel giddy about it is the fact you’re all cleaned up. Bandaged wounds and all, he even took off your shoes. Jeez, he’s gonna kill you one of these days acting so cute.

You turn to lay on your back, reaching your hand to the ceiling and making a fist. Your knuckles are still pretty bruised up but it’s clear he took some time to check over them. You drop your hand down, squeezing a fist over your chest and sighing. You roll over again.

“Still giving me so many mixed signals.” You say, half in jest, trying not to be too affected by it “Ah, fuck, this is bad. Gonna end up doing something weird just like old times.”

Before you commit another act of degeneracy in the bed of your long time crush and childhood hero, you sit up with your legs over the edge. He took your pants off too, a pair of boxers hung low on your hips. Your back is fucking killing you.

You stand to your feet, scratching the back of your neck as you turn to examine yourself in the mirror. You pull your tank up over your side, a bruise the size of a melon developing on you. It goes from just under your chest all the way down to above your waist. You press your finger to it and wince at the sensation of pain, dull but throbbing so deep in your nerves you can’t help but feel it.

You examine the rest of you, turning to either side. Work tomorrow is gonna fucking blow, but considering you don’t have any broken ribs - you think it’s not the worst it could be. No stitches either, so a win overall. If the rest of the week passed by silently that’d be perfect.

You look around the room for your things. They’re in a neat chair in the corner of the room. Bakugou’s cat is over there too, asleep on your uniform. You can hear something faint from downstairs, the sound of a T.V. playing. You should drop down there since you’re awake but you’re reluctant. You wonder if he’ll chase you out since you’re up. If he still has as much of a soft spot for you as he used to, it couldn’t hurt to test your luck.

You open up the bedroom door and shut it quietly before padding down stairs.

You end up finding him where you’d expect him. He’s in the kitchen with an apron on, a fitted gray shirt with a piping bag in hand.

He looks older every time you see him. His hair isn’t all gray yet but the platinum is starting to turn brilliant white. There’s lines in his face that weren’t always there, even with the scars and fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s still as jacked as he used to be, but it’s softened up. Mostly it’s his personality, you find, to be mellow. Only someone with patience could take up such a tedious hobby after an entire life out in the field - killing baddies and chasing thugs and whatever other shit hero’s do.

It’s kind of ridiculous that he’s piping delicate little designs onto some pastries, but unfortunately for you it only adds to his charm. You lean against the wall coming into the kitchen, in the frame. Half-dressed with your lips quirked up in a coy smile.

“Whatcha makin’ old man?”

“Don’t break my concentration you noisy brat,” He says straightforwardly “Sit down and shut up.”

“So cranky,” You muse, but ultimately comply, sitting at a chair on the kitchen island. Looks like he’s on his last round of whatever he’s making.

You get by on staring at him. It’s pretty typical for you even now. Sitting here in front of him doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected, which is worth something. When he’s finally finished, he puts the piping bag on the counter and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Permission to speak, sarge?” You ask, sarcastically. He frowns at you.

“Not granted.”

“Cold as ever huh,” You say, leaning your elbow on the counter - palm on your cheek “Thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?”

“That only counts if there’s fondness in the first place.” He says with ease. This time you scoff at him, but he cuts you off before you get a chance to reply “You wake up with any pain?”

“Worry about yourself, you old bastard,” You say impudently. You see the corners of his lips twitch as he stares at you “‘m fine. Got a nasty bruise on my side but my ribs aren’t broken. Work tomorrow is gonna suck.”

“That why you’re back here?”

“For about a week, yeah.”

“Confidential?”

You shake your head and lean back.

“Nah. Bodyguarding some rich dude’s kid. Birthday tomorrow. Spent the first two days being a lousy maid but the pay is good so I can’t complain.”

“Shit. The party is tomorrow? I have an order for tomorrow.”

“Guess you’re not senile yet, old man.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou says, not bothering to hide to his expression “How old’s the kid?

“A little younger than me I’d guess. 19 or so.”

“Isn’t this a good opportunity to get laid?” He suggests like he’s purposefully trying to irritate you. He already knows how you feel. Why he insists on pretending is beyond you but it never fucking fails to piss you off.

You shoot him a glare.

“Nevermind. You’re definitely senile. Might wanna try some puzzle games to keep your shit in tact before you start peeing in public and buying ten pairs of the same pants.”

“You’re still just as mouthy as I remember.”

“Learned from the best.”

A comfortable silence settles as a weird feeling overtakes you. Fuck, you’re still pining your youth away after all this time. Maybe getting laid would fix some of your issues, but no one is gonna hold a candle to having the real thing. You rub your temple in preemptive apprehension. Bakugou starts working on cleaning up the kitchen, and you resign yourself to thinking about what you’re gonna do.

It catches you off-guard when he talks to you first.

“Earlier,” He says, opening up the fridge to rearrange it “Why weren’t you fighting back?”

You don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry hearing him ask. You don’t feel like softening the blow with your usual shit, so you give it to him straight.

“It doesn’t suit a tactical genius to play dumb, old man.”

He stiffens, then sighs.

“Still hung up on that, huh.”

Oh now you’re gonna get pissed.

“Don’t.” You warn, low and indifferent. He sighs, sliding a tray into the fridge and “Don’t piss me off, alright?”

“Hey. You shitty punk. When are you gonna get it through your thick skull I’m doing this for your fucking sake? Stop—”

“Next time, just leave me in the rain.” You seethe, venom in your voice, making you numb and agitated. He stops, breath hitching “I don’t give a shit if you’re a retired hero. I’m serious. Leave me out in the alley next time if you’re gonna pull the mentor act again..”

Man this sucks.

Not like you were expecting some heart warming love story out of a guy like him but still. You didn’t think he wouldn’t budge at all. You can feel yourself getting angry just thinking about it. It might’ve been better not to come. Mentor or not, his whole dismissal never fails to annoy you to your core. You knew that before the week started he might be like this. Maybe if shit went your way - you could’ve had a regular reunion. But now, he just had to see you getting beat up on purpose and he just had to fucking ask about it.

Seriously, where’s his decorum? Prick.

“Kid.”

“Don’t—I needa get outta here. I shouldn’tve—fuck, this blows.”

You stand to your feet before you have a chance to look back. You feel kind of pathetic running away again but it’s still the preferable option to having this fight a second time. It’s something you’re just too sensitive about to deal with head on. Getting rejected twice by the guy you’ve been in love with since you were nineteen is bound to fuck you up abs you don’t have it in you not to drink yourself into a fit.

So you’re practically running up the stairs, but you can hear him calling behind you. You go into the bedroom to get your things and Bakugou follows you into it predictably, shutting the door. You turn around to him, annoyed.

“Get outta my way.”

“No. Not while you’re all pissy. Gonna get yourself hit by a car.”

“What’d I just say about cooling it with the mentor act, man?”

“It’s not a fuckin’—it’s not an act.” He says, with a sigh that almost makes you feel bad, “I haven’t seen you in two years.”

“Two years is nothing. Old age is making you soft,” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest “But I don’t need your sympathy. My feelings haven’t changed.”

“Kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, alright? Cleaned my act up, got a job and a license and a place. Haven’t slept in a cell in two years. Been off the streets that whole time just like you told me to do. The least you could do is take me seriously.”

“I didn’t want you to do that shit for me. I wanted you to do it for you.”

“Too bad,” You reply back almost immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose “Save your lecture for the next injured bird you raise up and leave me out of it.”

“I’m trying to put you on the right path, you ungrateful little jackass. Don’t act like—“

“Spare me the goddamn lecture.”

There’s a quiet silence befalls the both of you. Shit is going nowhere fast and you both know it, Bakugou as much as you do. Memories of your last argument come back to you almost instantly.

After you turned eighteen, you were run out of the orphanage you’d spent part of your adolescence at. It’s a pretty regular sob story and you’re quite the sad sap. A dead mom in Mustafu and an absent father. You had a strong quirk, and hell maybe if you grew up different - you could’ve been a hero.

Shit didn’t work out that way, so at 11 you were thrown to the wolves. It’s not a fun time to look back on and you figure there’s no use thinking about the past. You did whatever you had to to survive which mostly meant being in and out of orphanages and running away whenever the next worthless schmuck tried to take advantage of you. You always got away by the skin of your teeth, and made money doing whatever you could. If it put food on the table, you’d have probably done it at least once.

It’s something of a cliche, but Dynamight was your idol. You liked that he wasn’t like other heroes. He was crass and hardcore and liked to talk shit. He was cool. You spent a lot of time hanging around T.V. stores watching him through the glass, watching interviews on your first hand-me-down phone. Even though he didn’t really have the tragic backstory, you always thought he was courageous and honest.

A celebrity crush and idol combined, you stole more of his pin-up magazines than you’re entirely comfortable with. A lot of them you still own, shoved into the back of your closet.

Once you’d turned 18, your life of petty crime had brought you all the way down to Osaka. It was also the worst year of your life. Social agencies seem to get off on tossing kids into the streets as soon as they can and with a criminal record like yours, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do.

You spent the first 6 months knee deep in all sorts of shit. That’s when you ran into that biker gang for the first time. You hung around bars and slept with strangers for a place to sleep. A lot of bad shit happened and it wasn’t getting any easier.

It was a cold, rainy day when you met Dynamight for the first time. The worst day of your life, more accurately. You got mugged and lost your job all in the same few hours and you were pretty sure god himself was spitting at your face.

But it wasn’t all bad. Cheesy as it sounds, meeting your hero was worth the trouble.

He was different off camera. That was the first thing you thought when you talked to him. He had a softer way of speaking and he was weirdly perceptive. He didn’t talk much, either - at least not at first. You spent a lot of time in comfortable silence. The first time, you didn’t do much more than share a meal. He asked you about your life. He gave you money for a hotel too. The only thing you could think to do was ask when you could see him again.

He was 36 at the time. Hadn’t retired yet, either.

That was the beginning of your long relationship. To this day, you don’t know why he decided to involve himself with you. It’s a mystery you’ve yet to get answers for and maybe you never will. Sure he was a hero, but you’re sure he’s seen a lot worse. Why take pity on you in particular? Whenever you ask him about it, he usually just scoffs. Sometimes he’ll tell you that you reminded him of someone. Who that person could be is lost on you even now.

It was a gradual relationship. You were young and persistent, but he never turned you away either. Sure he’d been a good influence, but stopping a life of crime wasn’t easy. You got arrested for some months after meeting. Bakugou took you in when you were 19 and homeless - let you stay with him. He retired at 37, opening up a bakery in Osaka. The place you’re staying in now is just over it. The same one you spent two years of your life falling in love with the old bastard.

It was hard not too. You’d admired him for a long time, and he managed to supercede your low expectations. It wasn’t the first time you fell in love but it was definitely the strongest sensation. You tried to ignore it for a while but that didn’t work out for shit either.

You confessed to him on your 20th birthday. Made a whole big deal with flowers and candles and shit. And again - it’s not like you were expecting romance out of the motherfucker. A flat-out rejection would’ve sufficed.

But…that wasn’t what you got either.

The whole reason for your fight wasn’t just because he didn’t have feelings for you. He made it a whole big fucking deal trying to tell you about your feelings. That you needed to get your shit together and grow up and that it was a phase that you’d grow out of. That he “really cares about you, kid” and that he’s just trying to do what was right by you as an adult.

(“You’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m like either. Been through some tough shit and you latched onto me, alright? So don’t go wastin’ your time.”)

You don’t really give a fuck about how old he is or about his status. None of it matters to you in the slightest. What was pissing you off all that time was him not taking you seriously after everything you’d been through together. Trying to tell you would fucking grow out of it and that it was a waste. You got into an argument after that, and like you’ve been doing your whole life - you ran away. Back to Shizuoka where you started to get your life together.

Hit the books and studied your ass off, graduating late from a night school and then picking up a vocational school to fall back on. Some old connections got you a job in security and you bounced from place to place in the meanwhile. You even got your license and bought a beat-up cruiser that you fix-up when you have the chance.

You grew up so to speak. You came back here trying to prove that. Being dismissed so fucking quickly makes you feel rage beyond reason so you’re trying to step back. Seriously, two fucking years and nothing. Not even a pity “I’m proud of you.”

“Just admit it,” You sneer, inching closer to him “It’s not about any of that shit, is it?”

He widens his eyes as you stalk towards him.

“The fuck are you—“

“Don’t play stupid. You feel guilty, right? Feel all wound up cause you know it’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing”

This time he goes silent. Fucking bullseye.

“You thought I forgot? How you kissed me all tipsy? Thought I didn’t notice you looking?”

Oh it feels good to let it all out. He shrinks, this time unable to say anything. You both know it’s true.

“Look—“ He puts hands on your shoulders as you back him into the wall “You’re too fucking young for all this. And about me, you don’t know—”

You lean into him, face inches apart. You already know what he’s gonna tell you, almost word for word. Trying to maintain some innocence you hardly have anything left of.

“You sure? I heard you through those walls plenty of times. You take dick like a champ.”

“Shut the hell up. This is for your own good, we can’t do this.”

You can hardly believe he’s still being like this.

“I used to know you were home. When I brought people over,” You whisper low against his skin. His eyes widen “You heard me too, I’m sure. So, be honest Mr. Dynamight, you think I can’t give you what you want or are you too afraid to find out?”

“You’re such a fucking punk.” He grits out. Still not denying your words.

“That’s right,” You muse, words heated and heavy “I’m a worthless street punk trying to fuck the old man upstairs ‘cause I don’t know any better.”

It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Bakugou in your life. The first time was when you came over to his place tipsy. In front of all the other pro-heros you had admired so much. It’s different this time. Not only are you both shockingly sober, there’s an aggression in it that wouldn’t be there before. No matter how begrudging he acts, he’s still kissing you back just as hard as you’d expect him too. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, arms wrapped around your neck. Fuck he’s still so huge. How much does he work out to still be this jacked?

You can’t even imagine how that’s gonna look when you finally get to fuck him. Shit, just thinking about it sends electricity through your spine. You groan a little into his mouth, your hands tucked on his nape and tugging at the fine hairs. You push your incisors into his lower lip and tug, pulling away just slightly to intake how fucking flushed he is.

He looks like a pornstar,

You pull away, hand cupping his jaw and forcing his mouth open. You’re gonna lose it if you stare too long.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” He mumbles. You laugh lightly at him.

“Your cocky attitude is pretty sexy too,” You hum, amused. You kiss him one more time, hands reaching for the thickest part of his waist. He’s built like a trunk, but his reactions are almost girlish. The contrast is making you twitch.

“Can’t say the same for you.” He spits. Your grin splits your face as you pull away from him, teeth nipping at his jaw. You can feel the scruff of his skin, unshaved as you let your tongue travel over it.

“Aw, what? You don’t think I’m sexy.” You nudge a knee between his legs feeling the half-hard outline of his cock. You shudder “You sure about that?”

“What the hell are they feeding brats like you?”

“Liquor and cigarettes.”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Helps me relax after work,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe before “I get pretty stressed out. Sure you know something about that.”

“Hngh, fuck. Fuck you.”

“Do you even know how? Not like that thing gets much use, huh?”

You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans, hard against the palm of your hand. He pushes his hips up slightly, sharpened glare. He pants.

“You sound, shit, so fucking sure.”

“I am sure. I’m looking to fuck you, not the other way around. Not sure how that’s gonna work since I don’t got my stuff on me.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say. This whole thing is feeling like a fever dream you can’t wake up out of. Maybe he’ll give you a suggestion on what else to do.. But instead of that, a blush crawls onto his face. It leaves you floored. He looks away from you.

“...Your shits still where you left it.”

It takes you a second to register what he means. When you do, you can feel your brows hit your fucking hairline. There’s no way he’s saying what you think he is.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d come to pick it back up but you never did, and I went to go move it into some boxes. I didn’t have any reason to toss it.”

A thought crosses into your mind.

“Hey. Old man. Where is it?”

He stares at you. You grasp onto him firmer, making him gasp. You can feel how heavy his cock is in your hands, rubbing it through the cloth of his sweats. You whisper harsh into his ears.

“If I open your goddamn drawer right now, tell me, am I gonna find my old strap in it? Clean and getting use? You been fucking yourself with the thing I used to lay dick with?”

When he doesn’t answer, pure glee ignites in you. He can’t answer, apparently. But his face is a harsh, permanent red now and his cock is painfully hard. You want to rail him into the fucking floor just for that. You wouldn’t make up some shit like that in your wildest dreams, so the fact that he’s not denying it makes your insides feel like they’re melting. You rub yourself against him, feeling how slick and hard your clit is just thinking about it.

“Go lay down.”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

You grab his ass as hard as you can before landing a hit on it that makes him nearly topple over. Even though he’s bigger than you in more ways than one, he reacts like that. His anger only lasts so long before it morphs into want.

“Of course I am. And you’re gonna listen.”

“What makes you so sure about that, huh? You think you can satisfy me?”

“You think you’re gonna intimidate me into backing down? After knowing you fuck your tight little ass to the thought of me? Fat chance.”

“I didn’t say anything like that.”

You laugh “You implied it. Now go lay down. Where’s your lube?”

He frowns at you.

“In the same drawer.”

You give him a knowing grin to which he shoves your face away. Ultimately though he listens to you, lying and making himself comfortable in the sheet as you grab whatevers in his little sex drawer. He wasn’t kidding about the strap, the lube seated next to it. You grab both quickly and join him, hovering over him.

You opt not to talk, slowing your pace to appreciate the view. You think he’s says something. Asks about what you’re doing and why - but you tune the words out as you run your hands over the curves of his body. He’s a wall of fucking muscle, his arms especially with a torso just tight enough for you to grab. The fabric of his shirt doesn’t leave much for imagination, but you’re still overwhelmed as you pull it up over his waist, his chest, his arms. The fabric comes loose and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve got plenty of porn mags in your back pocket and even more boudoir shoots from him that you’ve stared at for hours.

But seeing it in person is completely different. You can see the rise and fall of his chest - the raised skin of a scar and plenty of over scratches and wounds. Fuck, he is so sexy and you are so drunk on lust you almost feel sick.

“Somethin’ catch your eye?”

His voice draws you out of the trance you're in, a lazy smirk spread on his face. You laugh.

“I get why you’re such a show-off,” This time you lean forward to kiss him - a hand wrapped around his throat, spare going to grab his chest. His tits are soft, they look like hard muscle and sinew but the fat is squished in your palms to perfectly for that“Fuck.”

“You’re acting like a horny teenager.” He says flatly.

“Been thinking about fucking you that long, so I guess so.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why’re you so shocked?” You make work kissing down his neck slowly, down his chest, one tweaking his nipple while your mouth makes work on the other one He swears above you, another wave of heat pulsing in your body “Don’t you hear shit like that all the time?”

“Shit that feels—I didn’t think you were, hngh—serious.”

“Obviously not. I still have all your slutty ass photos in my apartment somewhere.”

He pants. Makes the prettiest fucking sounds for you as you grope and squeeze and touch his body. You bite, hard, into his tits leaving a red mark of teeth that makes him shudder. You need to do it all over again.

“Haah, fuck. What the fuck?”

“You’re way sexier in person if that’s worth anything,” You groan, a shudder passing through you “Like way sexier.”

He looks like he wants to say something to you but the words die in his mouth. You laugh as you peer over him. His reactions are fucking adorable. Face is hot with a flush, watery eyes. Pretty. As much he’s rugged and strong and downright handsome, he is annoyingly fucking pretty. Having him underneath you is making all the power go to your head. Nothing feels more appealing to you right now than the idea of wrecking him completely.

You kiss down his body until you’re at his waist, taking his pants off unceremoniously. You have half a mind to rip them but you’re sure they’re expensive. He lifts his legs for you anyways, leaving a tight pair of boxers that leave nothing for the imagination at all.

“What the fuck,” You mumble, getting face to face with it. You pull the boxers off slowly, kissing his hip as you do. His cock pops out slowly as you pull it down. What an asshole. His dick is impossibly big too. A tuft of well trimmed blonde hairs sit neat at the base and the tip is a harsh red. There’s a little drop of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft that makes your brain feel fuzzy. It’s veiny too, tight balls sitting net at the base.

Another shiver wracks through you, as you reach your hand out to touch it tentatively. He groans sharply. You stick your tongue out, licking up from base to tip. He tastes of salt and skin, but it isn’t bad. You let your tongue lick at the slit, elated looking at him squirm underneath you.

“Nice dick.” You say back plainly. He snorts.

“Fuck off.”

‘’m serious,” You add, letting your eyes lid to look more serious “I don’t blow just anyone.”

You open your mouth wide, pulling lips over teeth as you ease the tip slowly. It’s hot. Hard as steel and intrusive against your tongue, you can feel it throb. Pulsing relentlessly, you lower yourself onto it slowly - taking as much in as you can. It’s difficult and messy, tongue out to cover as much as you can. You suction your mouth slowly, hollowing your cheeks. There’s something that feels so good about having him in your mouth, something even better about watching the faces of pleasure he makes above you.

You hum in appreciation and the vibrations prove to be too much as he nearly thrusts his dick into your throat. You brace yourself for it happening again - setting an even pace. He looks good like that, drowned in pleasure and unsure of what to do with himself. You wonder if it’s been a while since he’s acting so fucking cute about it. You assume as much.

What he said before, you wonder if he was picturing it. If he felt guilty about it. The idea of him jerking off in shame over the thought of his dick in your mouth makes your spine tingle. You cup his balls in your hand, squeezing gently as you get into a steady rhythm. You feel him above you trying to hold it all in, the muscles in his abdomen tightening each time you manage to get down further. It’s hard to breathe, the back of your throat feels narrow. Your skin is on fire.

“Fuck, fuck—where’d you learn how to—fuck!”

You feel him getting ready to cum, so you pull off swiftly. A delicious, needy whine comes out of his throat that leaves you mesmerized.

“What the hell?” He mumbles, heaving. You laugh.

“Hey,” You hum, lifting his hips until you can see his hole - pink and twitching “Every had someone eat your ass?”

“Are you offering?”

“Yeah.” You say back, kissing the insides of his thighs, gripping the muscle “I wanna know if it feels good for you.”

For whatever reason, this statement in particular makes his skin tinge pink. You hold back a laugh internally.

“So fucking weird.”

“Is that a no?”

“Do whatever you want.”

You chuckle at that. You sink your teeth into him again, this time working on the build up. His muscles give tension to your incessant biting, hard bone against muscle as you mark up his thick thighs. His ass is nice like you’d expect, tight and muscular. You work your way towards his hole slowly, thumb circling the tight ring of muscle first to gauge his reaction. He shudders, making you hold back a laugh.

“Kinda sensitive,” You say amused. You can feel him glaring without having to look “You can’t cum without it now, right?”

You’re mostly saying it in jest but the prolonged silence leaves you at a loss for words. Your eyes snap up at him, watching him huff and puff in embarrassment. Heat rolls through your body.

“It’s not like I fucking can’t ever, alright?”

“You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Don’t fucking call me cute you shitty little brat.”

“But you’re acting kinda adorable, old man,” You say slyly. You stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe against him. He shakes “Blushing up a fucking storm. Been a while?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, so it’s just ‘cause it’s me then?”

He looks like a fucking cherry. You laugh.

“To think you were so against it. How’d you hide your expressions that long? Did it help you to masturbate to the thought of me fucking you?”

“Would you shut up?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Before he can scold you any more, you let your tongue slip against the exposed rim. The reaction is tentative at first, slow licks trying to gauge if this is something he’s even into. You do it again and again, burying yourself deep. He makes a noise that you recognize to be a muffled moan. You groan in appreciation, repeating the action - letting yourself dip into the tightness of it. You can feel the muscles of his body go taut as you grip him - hands over the tops of his thighs. The action is more shameless the longer you let yourself indulge.

You’ll have to fuck him open anyways before you actually get on top. You think doing this much will make everything easier. Mostly you’re doing it because you like seeing him embarrassed. The gap in appearance vs expression never gets old. Seeing like this repeatedly proves to be novel and fuck knows if he’s gonna let you do it again any time soon. You’re more than determined to squeeze out every last ounce of his pride.

You want to see everything.

And frankly, pleasuring him like this is driving you all kinds of crazy. Not like you’ve ever been a selfish lover. Always aiming to please or whatever. But he’s got such a raw fucking sex appeal looking the way he does it’s making you drip. You’re pretty damn sure you’ve soaked through everything you have on and you’re not sure how much longer you’re gonna make it without touching yourself.

It’s all material you’re committing to memory, either way. If anyone saw him like this, you’re pretty sure they’d fall head over heels just like you. It’s hard not to give him everything he’s ever wanted Not to want to fuck him within an inch of his life, just to see his big muscular frame curl in on itself. He’d look so good all messed up, all knotted with pleasure.

You can feel it again this time, another wave of desire that makes his cock twitch. You wrap your finger around the shaft, holding it around his balls so he doesn’t cum without asking you. He lets out a noise of disapproval that you ignore, pulling your mouth away. Pre-cum dribbles out of tip. You use your finger to swipe it up and lick it.

He looks scandalized.

“Not bad. You eat clean huh.”

“You’re going to kill me someday.”

“You’re too young and too healthy to die.”

He makes a face of disapproval at you. You toss him the lube before grabbing the strap.

“Think you can work yourself open for me tough guy? Normally, I’d do it myself. Edge you out nice and slow, get you all soft. But I’m dying to fuck you already and I wanna make you cum on my cock.”

He looks at you exasperated.

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“Casual sex and porn mags. You don’t like it?”

“It makes you sound your age.”

“Want me a little more suave? Tell you that I’m gonna make love to you?”

He snorts. You take off your boxers and sit up on your knees as Bakugou opens the lube in his hands. You watch him idly, mostly focusing on wiggling yourself in the harness and making sure it’s comfortable enough to fuck in.

He takes a deep breath, and you watch him reach between his legs. How it’s difficult since he’s so muscular. You almost want to help him, but instead you get between his legs again. Stood on your knees with a heavy bit of silicone weighing you down. You connect the tip to his, watching him push a finger in slowly.

“Not if you say it like that.”

“Having trouble there?”

“You piece of shit.”

“A worthless punk or something. C’mon, just say it. Ask me to finger your ass so I can fuck you. Or you want me to say something more delicate?”

“Fuck, c’mon just, help me already.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“....Please, you worthless asshole.”

You grin, grabbing the lube from the bed and squeezing it into your fingers. You laugh, leaning over him.

“Got some manners left in you after everything, huh?”

You pull him down towards him by the waist, pulling his legs up. You kiss the inside of his knees, nudging his legs apart as you position your hands, warming the lube between your fingers. He’s surprised by your strength, but you don’t do anything but grin.

“Keep your legs up for me, yeah?”

He scoffs but doesn’t go against your will. He looks good waiting for you like that, so you don’t take too much time trying to split him open. His hands are thicker than yours, so your first finger slides in like it’s nothing. He’s soft and hot on the inside, and the way he accommodates you lets you know this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

It doesn’t irritate you as much as you think it should. Maybe you’re a little screwed up to think it’s sexy but the idea of him getting fucked at any point is turn on. Once you’re down to the knuckle and you can pump in and out of him easily, you use a second finger to stretch him further. There’s more resistance so you slow, feeling up against his walls for the place you know it’ll feel good.

You know you find it because his whole body tightens up in front of you. His eyes shoot open and he’s all breathy and fucked out. You relish in it.

“Right there?”

He must be feeling good with how little he’s combating you.

“Y-yeah.”

You lean forward to plant a kiss on him again but this time it’s tender. He must feel really good because he wraps his arms around your neck to keep you there. You moan in surprise and when you pull back he looks hazed out of his mind.

“Didn’t know you could make a face like that.” You say, amused. He frowns at you.

“I’m not happy about it either.”

A laugh falls out of you and you catch the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips that has you kissing the corners of his mouth. He catches himself before he leans into it too easily, but you notice before he can shy away.

“Looks like I’m making your heart flutter. Forget the ethics for a little and let me.”

“I should toss you out of a fucking window.”

“You’re not gonna though.”

This he doesn’t reply to. You slip a third finger while he’s distracted and he gasps. This time he’s almost stretched completely. You give him a minute to breathe, swallowing up the little sounds he makes with a hearty grin. It’s so fucking good just doing this. Incredible. Way better than you could’ve ever imagined.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” You say, bemused. He’s delirious enough to laugh.

“The stamina of youths scares the hell outta me.”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a retired pro.”

This time he grins. You find yourself pleased with the development.

He’s stretched now, and restless. You pull your hand away and rub the remaining slick onto the tip of your cock, giving him a look.

“Do you know how you want me?”

“It’s your fantasy fuck,” He says, semi-sarcastically “Do whatever you want.”

You laugh, tapping his ass lightly.

“Turn over and stick your ass up a little.”

“Don’t wanna see my face?”

“Wanna see how you swallow my cock up like it’s nothing, more like.”

He curses under his breath. You feel accomplished. He turns over just like you’ve asked him too and fuck the sight of him is way too much. You can’t get over it. He’s big and strong and trembling with desire and it’s driving your sex-drive as high as it can possibly go. You move so your knees are on either side of his thighs. Leaning forward, you lick up from the small of his spine all the way up his shoulder, before sinking your teeth in the junction in between.

He groans underneath you, and your hands make themself present around his hips. Most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The fucking arch and the scars and the ruggedness of all of it.

“You’re damn gorgeous.” You say, with utter and sincere appreciation “It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“Save your smooth talk.”

“I’m bein’ serious,” You say, pulling his ass apart with your palms “Like. Woah.”

He snorts “Real poetic.”

“I barely graduated school, asshat.”

In the midst of your bantering, you let the tip of your cock slip into him slowly. It steals the words of reply out of his mouth in an instant. You can feel him melt underneath you. At the intrusion, at the feeling. At every single sensation. You feel the phantom of it in your spine. Like there’s fireworks in all your nerve-endings, just watching how his ass looks around it. Just the tip with no movement, no adjusting.

He’s silent, shuddering - holding onto a pillow. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He has little dimples in his back. You groan.

“Shit. Look at you.”

The praise seems to make him keen. He’s always been one to like the attention. You roll your hips, fucking another inch into him agonizingly slow. He moans like he’s deflating, breathing ragged and voice raw. You rock back and forth until there’s no longer anything to resist, then push in and in and in.

Once you bottom out with his ass against your pelvis and your hips on the back of his thighs, you lean forward and press your weight on top of him. You think he’s expecting something else, because he seems surprised. But you let yourself weigh upon him, then with a heavy grunt - cup his jaw and tilt his head to kiss him.

“You like that?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon. Be honest. You look like you like it. Ears turning so red.”

He groans.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Still not gonna budge huh?” You say. anchoring yourself at his sides with a deep sigh “So stubborn.”

When you feel stable enough to move, you don’t hesitate to fuck him with all of the expertise you have. You give it to him in just the right way, measure up to where he needs you but don’t give in quite enough. It’s a strenuous affair but you keep it at. A steady pace that’s hard and deep but not good enough to make him cum. Something to leave him on the edge, you fuck him just like that. The sound of skin hitting skin and short, broken moans echo in the room.

You focus on taking him like that, making sure each and every thrust is precise and calculated until he gets where you want him to be. You can practically feel when it’s starting to really get to him. When he can no longer hold himself up, so resigns to smushing his face against the pillow and going limp. You lean up, moving so you can pull his hips back with you - hovering off the bed on his knees instead of laying on his stomach.

This time you reach deeper. His whining gets louder, more in tune with everything. You laugh as you reach around him, hands gripping at the base of his cock. It takes patience to unravel him like this, matching your hands to your movements until everything is in a slow, steady synchronization. Fast but not fast enough. Hard, but not hard enough. Close but not close enough.

He lets out a heady groan that reverberates in his chest, opening his mouth finally.

“C-c’mon. Just. C’mon.”

“Aw what?” You say, rolling your hips up against him, where you know he wants you most “What is it, hm? Did you want something?”

“Fuck. Just. Fuck me already.”

“I am fucking you, though?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Make you cum? I thought you didn’t like it.”

He groans, dropping against the pillows again.

“I didn’t say that. C’mon just. Please.”

His voice is hoarse when he asks. You laugh against his shoulders, listening to his requests. Giving it to him how he needs it. Harder and a little deeper, you can feel it now. How you knock into the place inside him that leaves him trembling and shaking. You can read his cues now, when he starts getting close. But of course it’s not gonna be that easy.

You keep the pace stand, putting your hand on the tip of his cock. You rub your thumb over the slit and hold it there. He sucks in a breath, whining a little.

“Wanna cum so bad?” You offer, mouth twisted in a feral grin “Tell me you love me.”

This knocks the wind out of him.

“What?”

“Say you love me with all your heart and I’ll let you cum.”

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

You fuck into him hard right where he needs you. He moans.

“Nah. My fantasy fuck, remember? Right now, we’re playing love birds.’ Like’ works too, I guess. If you’re too scared,” You half-way mock, starting a pace now that borders cruel “Now say it nice and sweet and I’ll let you cum.”

“You’re such a—agh, fuck,” He shudders against the bedsheets, repeating himself as you pound him. It’s easy to piston your hips. He’s so sensitive to begin with that it doesn’t take much “You’re insane.”

“C’mon, old man. Confess your feelings to me like we’re sweethearts.”

“In your dr—oh, shit.”

“What was’at? Did you wanna say something?”

You can practically feel him turn it over in his head. You’re mostly doing it to mess with him. Punishment for all of his beating around the bush and bullshitting. Getting to fuck him has been more than enough.

So you’re not expecting him to stop you. To turn over flat on his back and lay with his legs spread and wrap his arms around your waist and stare at you through hazy, flushed eyes. This time you’re really looking at him. At the lines on his face and the scruff and an expression torn with time and desire and lust. Your heart nearly falls out of your fucking ass when he wraps his arms around your neck, palming your nape and pushing your foreheads together.

When you’re nose to nose, he looks very serious all of a sudden. You swallow something in your throat, unsure of what else to do.

“Gonna say this one fucking time, only. So listen up cause I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

He’s got to be fucking with you.

“Love you..I love you or whatever. But that doesn’t mean—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you put your hands up under his knees and fuck him for all you’ve got. Half-way as revenge for the shitty confession and half-way because if you think too long about what he’s saying you’re pretty sure you’re going to collapse.

He sounds good under you, as you fist his cock and laugh in absolute fucking delight. You stare at him hard. At his fucked out expression. You’re gonna cuss him out as soon as this shit is over, you swear. What an asshole.

“O-oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna, g-gonna cum.”

You goad him cause you aren’t sure what else you should do at this point.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Show it to me. Let me see what you look like.”

The words are enough to push him over the edge. He gets unraveled right before your eyes, his whole body pulled like a bow before losing all the tension. You can feel his cock twitching hotly in your palms. Thick strings of white covering your fingers as you fuck him through it. He sounds so perfect like that, so fucking good for you. You can feel your whole body ready to give out just watching.

When Bakugou finally finishes, he releases you from his grip. You pull out only seconds after, staring at his flushed state in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Were you serious?” You ask, because it’s the only thing you can think to ask. He sighs, tired.

“Yeah.”

Where the hell is this dudes class?

“Fuck.”

He laughs, laid down before poking his head back up to stare at you.

“You didn’t cum yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question. You shake your head.

“Not yet. I can take care of it.”

He clicks his teeth.

“No way. Come ‘ere.”

You undo the harness of your strap before crawling over to where he’s laid. You end up standing on your knees. He props himself up on his elbows, and you look down at him absolutely mesmerized. He crinkles his nose at you.

“That fucking lovesick look on your face is gross.”

“Been like this for four years.”

He flushes.

You stand in front of him, bare on your knees. He reaches forward, brushing the hair over the hood of your clit gently.

“You’re so wet.” He murmurs. You laugh.

“Yeah, no shit.” You say, too tired to do much arguing “Lemme borrow your mouth,”

He snorts “Got it.”

You fist your hands into his hair and tug, bringing his open mouth to your clit with a sigh. Your cunts sort from being pushed into and neglected. Even the barest brush of his mouth is making you shiver. Bakugou must know a little something about this, because he latches onto you without thinking twice. The sudden added pressure has heat building your stomach at the speed of light. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so on edge in such a short period of time.

Plus looking down at him while you hump against his face is enthralling.

“You’d make a cute little wife, old man,” You say thoughtfully, dull pleasure aching as you tuf his hair at the root “You can cook, clean, bake and you know how to use your mouth fucking perfectly.”

He gives you a look of exasperation, but the warmth down his neck tells you he likes it. You laugh, throwing your head back. The visible sight of arousal flowing down his chin and making his face messy is making you more horny than you know what to do with. You don’t have the energy to cum more than once but you’re sure when you wake you you’re gonna be horny all over again.

You try not to think too hard about it as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter before unraveling all at once. Your insides are hotter than lava, the entire lower half convulsing as the strength in your thighs and legs gets lost gradually. Bakugou sucks until you’re nearly overstimulated, and you have to pull him away before it really gets to be too much for you.

“You taste good.” He says thoughtfully. You laugh.

“Got plenty more if you want it.”

“We should clean up.”

“You’re not kicking me out?”

“I’m not a villain, damn it.”

“You feel like one for that loser ass confession, but I’ll let it slide. I need a fucking nap though. Getting my ass kicked and having incredible sex in the same day is exhausting.”

He laughs as you lay down besides him, sitting up. Even in your half exhausted state, you catch the feeling of his lips on your forehead.

“Get some rest you brat.”

You wake up in a familiar bed.

If the sore feeling of laying pipe wasn’t in your hips, you’re pretty damn sure you just woke up out of a dream. What the fuck just happened to you? Your back and body is sore, but you’re clean like you’ve been wiped down. You’re stark naked though.

The idea that he could give you a wipe but not dress you makes you laugh. When you sit up, all of your clothes are sitting still on a chair. There’s some new clothes on top of them though, his clothes. You stand to your feet, your back cracking as loud as possible as you examine the wounds. You have some hickies now (when the hell did he leave those) and when you turn there’s some scratches on your back. You feel self-satisfaction as you get dressed. You should hit the showers when you feel less lethargic.

When you’ve reconciled with the fact you didn’t just conjure up what happened a few hours ago, you trek back into the living room. You find Bakugou where you expect him, bent over the stove making dinner. You lean on the frame of the door with a grin before walking over to him.

You don’t hesitate in sliding your hands on his waist under his tank top. Better, he doesn’t react like you’ve shot him dead. A laugh blooms in your chest.

“Morning grandpa.”

“You fucking—if you don’t sit down.”

You snort, but sit yourself down at the counter like you did a few hours ago.

“Whatcha making for dinner.”

“Grilled fish and rice. There’s sides.”

“Sounds healthy.”

His ears turn red.

‘“You have work tomorrow but you need to recover.”

You couldn’t smile more if you fucking tried.

“We gonna talk about what just happened,” You ask, pouring yourself a glass of water as you sit down. You take a long sip “Or are you gonna pretend to keep washing rice?”

He sighs, putting down the dry rice and the cup to measure. He almost looks furious, but he’s too cute for it to mean anything to you. You grin.

“Hey. Fucking. Look. Alright. You’re way too fucking young. I’m old enough to be your father a-and you only just barely got your life together, so yes I told you whatever I told you. But no fucking funny business until you’re at least 25 and your brain is developed more than a peanut.”

You nod..

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda a coward old man?” You say thoughtfully. He looks pissed again but it’s too funny for you to care “What’s funny business? Sex? Cause if it is, I’ve got bad news.”

“We just. We have to be careful.”

“So I can kiss, hug, fuck you in private but keep it outta the press?”

He stares at you, scratching his neck. “Yeah. Basically.”

You give him a thumbs up, grabbing a snack off the tray on his table. Chips, the fancy kind. They’re good.

“Got it. Can I stay over? I don’t feel like driving down to my hotel this late.”

“....You’re not pissed?”

You laugh.

“Are you kidding? I wasn’t mad the first time cause you rejected me, I was mad cause you were acting all fucking ethical and holier-than-thou. I figured it was gonna be something like that anyway. And I’m not much of a romantic, so dates and shit are whatever to me,”

“Forreal?”

“Yeah. Having sex and staying over to hang out for a while is cool. It was your fat head worrying about it, not mine. Did Mr. Deku managed to talk you out of your crisis while I was asleep?”

He gives you a look. Bullseye again.

“You two keep in touch?”

“He’s a good dude and he buys me a meal when I’m short on change. Jealous?”

He turns away from you before answering. His ears are burning. You feel your heart squeeze.

What shit taste you’ve got being head over heels for this old bastard, you wonder.

“Just shut up and eat your chips.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #writing tag #age gap cw #the craziest part of this is me reading this back and thinking. oh man. i could make this so much longer #im tainted beyond repair #the fact this is ONLY 10k is quite literally a miracle

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice.

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out.

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle.

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked.

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear.

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her.

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed.

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.”

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall.

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush.

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it.

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find.

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose.

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you.

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads.

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me.

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back.

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t.

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go.

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work.

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around.

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising.

Happy.

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave.

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out.

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror.

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light.

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again.

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl.

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there.

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere.

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home.

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You.

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh.

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to.

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face.

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive.

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand.

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first.

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed.

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about.

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?”

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time.

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies.

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup.

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan.

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut.

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.”

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this.

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous.

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work.

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you.

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance.

“Can I take a picture?” you ask.

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too.

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in.

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there.

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said.

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this.

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay.

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove series #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff #jim hopper #max mayfield #billy hargrove x female reader #savannah’s fics

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farklelucas · 1 year

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okay so. now that ive taken some time to breathe, compose myself, and gather my thoughts, lemme lay out why the teen wolf movie was a hot holy mess (besides, you know, the obvious) as a teen wolf enthusiast and expert.

a lot of the characters were really little more than set dressing. to be specific, i think liam could have been replaced by a mailbox with a hat and the movie would have been the same (and this is coming from a major liam fan). the same can be said for mason, malia, melissa, peter, and honestly even the sheriff (which i hate bc god he was such a core of the show). i think parrish was only useful in one specific instance and even that isn't enough to warrant him being in the film. the characters i loved felt like cardboard cutouts and that wasnt fair to me, to the characters, or to the actors. i would have rather they not been there at all tbh. like just leave liam out of this if youre gonna do him like that fr

a lot of the plot points felt... disjointed and weird. saraid said it felt like three different movies in one and i have to agree. derek and eli felt like its own thing, then scott and allison, and then everything else (whatever the hell parrish and malia had going on, the lydia and jackson buddy cop comedy, liam in... japan with a ramen shop i think? and some random girlfriend that happened to be a kitsune) kind of fell to the wayside in between.

this movie was truly so flat without kira. it was hard to make a nogitsune movie without stiles, but it was almost impossible to make without her. hikari unfortunately ended up just feeling like a woman they randomly shoved into all the plot points kira was supposed to be in. because she didnt have a character besides liams girlfriend (and because liam was barely a character himself), she just couldn't compare and so kiras lack of presence was really felt. she left a huge hole in the narrative. they didnt even mention her and you knew what was missing. if you had cut khylin and dylan sprayberrys checks entirely, im sure they would have had enough to pay her as much as the rest of her white coworkers :) but that's just my opinion xxx

this was supposed to be for fans of the original series, but really just felt like jeff davis's weird rare pair fanfiction. instead of focusing on the dynamics that already existed - melissa and the sheriff, malia and peter, scott and liam, derek and. anyone really - he ended up delving into all these new dynamics with only two hours to develop them. malia and parrish (which. i really had to mentally run through the show to see if those two had interacted before and i dont think they have), liam and hikari, and derek and eli. all of which had a shot at being interesting but because there were so many different plots going on, it all just felt. awkward and confusing.

that being said, im gonna move onto derek and eli generally. i like eli! i do. i thought he was funny, i thought the actor was super charming (although the timeline made no sense because if he was born fifteen years ago And allison died fifteen years ago he would be braedens and. hate to say it folks. thats not braedens baby. make him mixed jeff davis you fucking coward). really, i liked him. ... but not at the expense of dereks character. the derek i knew was an asshole. he was mean, he was sarcastic, he was a bastard (honorifically). its not to say that people cant change, but... the derek i saw in the movie was a complete 180 from the derek we last saw in the series. honestly, the derek i saw in the series probably wouldn't have made a good parent - we saw how he was with erica, isaac, and boyd. even with scott. derek was kind of a dick. i dont even think he would have wanted kids - i think he would raise them out of duty, and i think he would if a partner wanted him to. but i dont think kids were ever in his life plan. and i think that could have been super interesting to see with him and eli. i think making him a parent could have been really interesting and it just. crumbled.

i know i mentioned the timeline in that last bit but. the timeline. it hurts my head. when was eli born. what year is it. how long has it been since scott has been in beacon hills. im so confused.

lets talk about adrian harris. shall we. i have made a list of people who i think would have been a better villain reveal are you ready: allison, peter, theo, chris argent, kate argent (resurrected), matt daehler (resurrected), victoria argent (resurrected), kira herself, danny mahealani, rafe mccall, isaac's shit dad, coach, greenberg, me with a baseball bat filled with rusty nails, jeff davis in a wig. the list goes on. you could not have picked a more random and less memorable character to reveal as your villain. i almost felt like i was being mocked. "haha! you didnt expect it to be this guy? the chemistry teacher who also died fifteen years ago? who had almost nothing to do with the plot until season 3? stupid! idiot!" i have never been so mad in my life

speaking of villain. did they forget what a nogitsune is. it needs a host. its not some guy they can stab to death. its a concept, a feeling, a parasite. its a manifestation of mental illness. but no sorry excuse me i must be wrong bc now its also a werewolf??????? im sorry. am i the crazy one. give me void allison! give me allison as the host and shes being taken over and she has those bags under her eyes and that creepy void stare and grin! give me crystal reed emmy noms! while we're on the subject, heres some more questions about the nogitsune include: why was it in a jar? why was it with LIAM of all people (who didnt even know what that was)? why did its powers completely change? HOW was it a werewolf????????? i cant stop thinking about it.

i said it once and ill say it again: jackson fucking carried this movie. he was giving all season one jackson, he was bringing comic relief, he was even bringing up ethan when no one else would! king! he carried. but he shouldn't have had to. dont get me wrong, i think crystal reed ate and left no crumbs. this was allisons movie and it should have been. but when the other two standout characters imo were jackson (who arguably did nothing) and coach (who did even less)... you simply didnt use your characters well. i think i would put deaton up there and even chris, but... scott and lydia? this should have been their movie. but scott spent nearly the whole movie ignoring his friends, and lydia was reduced to 'woman whose plot was about a man,' again. it was horrible. lydia outgrew that song and dance by season two. and scott? hasnt been to beacon hills in twelve years? hasnt seen his mom or his friends? not the scott mccall i know.

this is not about shipping discourse this post will never be about shipping discourse so i say this as a completely objective party. that being said. st/dia was so strangely shoved in there at the end. how did harris even know about lydia leaving stiles. how did he know about her dream. how did it add to the plot. like yes the nogitsune feeds of chaos and strife but i think lydia was getting enough of that watching her friends get murdered. it felt like a weird way to explain why dob wasnt there and it simply didnt work. i would have rather they not said anything about stiles at all.

anyway, this is skipping over a lot of other little things that i thought were really bad (sexualizing malia who literally had the mentality of an eight year old for most of her life AGAIN, why was mason a fucking cop, peters lack of interaction with the hale family which is what made him interesting in the first place, the absolute insanity of allison coming back to life and just being absolutely okay even though shes been dead for fifteen years, died at the hands of her friend, and almost everyone she knew including stiles, isaac, and kira are all just gone now), but boy oh boy. for a while it was funny bad. like "oh this is bad but i can still enjoy this for what it is" bad. but those last ten minutes. what is actually absolutely wrong with jeff davis. there are very few times ive felt this betrayed by tv shows i held this close to my heart, but im there. im heartbroken. i wont go on about it here, bc honestly, it would need its own post considering how much i have to say. but if the rest of the movie was bad? that was shit was traumatizing.

anyway. so sorry this post is this long, and so sorry i couldnt come back with a positive review. this show died long ago; i think we should have just let it rest - nobody asked for a reunion, and now i can see that was with good reason. so the next time jeff davis opens up an email with a header titled 'sequel idea' and he ccs tyler posey, i think we should all just agree to ler arden cho beat him to death in a dennys parking lot instead.

#long post #teen wolf #teen wolf movie #twm #personal #shut your pie hole katie

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hobisstar · 8 months

Text

What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader V Last Part

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.

Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.

Taglist: vante 🫶🏾

A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol. This has been absolutely fun to write for you guys! Im so happy how much love it had gotten over the past month since ive been writing it! I love you all so so much! Enjoy!

Its been about two years since Jungkook decided to let yn go on her own! So far, yn has become the owner of the coffee shop, has opened up plenty of them across Asia and plans to open some in The Untied States.

Life has been looking absolutely beautiful for yn! But heres the thing.

Bodies have been discovered. Fresh bodies. Of course going through what she went through with Jungkook, she feared that this was his doing. That the so called hobby has now reached the news channels. Though it says that the crimes has been in only England, it was still capability of it being Jungkook.

“Yn! Are you even listening? Im telling you Namjoon wants to take you on a date!” Joy, yns now close friend that she has gained from opening the coffee shops.

“Sorry, but i dont think im ready to date. The last guy was for 5 years and it didn’t turn out well in the end.” Yn mumbled looking over at the tv that was on the crime scene of the killings.

But what was showed, made yns blood run cold.

What was at the crime scene was dandelions.

The flowers that Jungkook always used to gift her on days he felt like we did something wrong. He would cut the steam off and just leave the flowers to never be able to grow again.

Was he…back?

It was closing time and of course yn being the owner, she decided that it was her duty to close every single night.

But tonight, she couldnt shake the feeling that she was being watched.

As everyone was leaving she saw a guy with a big hoodie on taking his time to clean up his mess on the table. Putting his crumbs inside a napkin then taking the napkin and closing it tightly then throwing it out.

yn watched from behind the counter taking containers from the counter and putting them on the shelf behind her.

This mysterious guy has been coming in everyday. Same time. She never serves him but she knows Joy does and she hates serving him. ‘His glare, it can kill.’ She would say when describing the eyes of this mysterious man.

While cleaning she saw the guy get up and come up to the counter.

Face mask on and glasses… sun glasses.

Its night time.

Maybe it was a fashion statement. Thats what yn left it as. “ Hi sorry we are about to close soon so im gonna have to ask you to leave..” is what she was aiming to say but once she turned around she saw he just left a napkin with hand writing on it.

She grabbed it and began to read it:

“Hi baby! Oh its been such a long time, oh how i miss you. Our child also misses you. 2 years right? That is let you go? Ah, I remember something. Today is our anniversary! Our now 7 year anniversary. Im picking you up at 11! Be ready!

JJK,”

Yn was at this point shaking. Fear took over her body but was trying to hide it. She wasnt doing such a good job at that. As much as she wanted to call the cops, get him arrested, she knew that those cops had no chance in trying to get Jungkook.

Hed kill them all in the blink of an if he even knew that they talked to yn.

When yn got home she didnt let the fact go that when she got there she obviously saw Jungkooks car right outside her town house.

Mind you this is the 5th time this year she has moved. None of the reasons dealing with Kook but they definitely where personal reasons.

She braced herself, once she goes inside her home, Jungkook will be inside.

She could call the cops and run away from home then go to Jins house.

Actually now that Yn thought about it, what if Jin had something to do with it? He was always to calm for her liking honestly. Why was he always just so calm with him? I mean he explained it yes, hes seen it for so many years but why didnt he at least call the cops? Then again was the cops really gonna help him?

Entering the home, it felt like deja vu. Coming home on anniversary and Jungkook was cooking their favorite shared dish.

Spaghetti! Yn liked it because it was delicious and Jungkook probably like it because it reminded him of blood.

“My love! You are right on time! The Spaghetti is hot and ready to be platted. Get comfortable and come eat”

He didn’t need to turn around for yn to know that it was actually him. He colored his tattoos, became more swoll and also cut his long hair.

Yn didnt change anything or didnt get comfortable since this was all just too much for her.

‘Keep calm and go with his plan, yn.’ Thats all she kept telling herself.

Though what was his plan? Drug her? Kill her?

Well, none of those. He wanted her back. If that meant living in this house with her, then so be it. Jin had Bam so, they’d have plenty of time together.

Finally he sat down with two plates of spaghetti and there he was in all his glory.

He had the cockiest smirk while toying with his now new lip ring before sitting down across from yn.

“ Fucking finally, i have you again.”

#bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn #jeon jungguk #jungkook yandere series #jungkook yandere #yandere bts #yandere!jungkook #hobisstar writes #jungkook ff #jk bts #jeon jk #spooktober

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

But the fact we know Dot will eventually call Rooster 'Dad' makes my heart swell

Terms of Endearment Masterlist

AAAHHHH my heart just burst inside my chest thinking about this. I feel like it would just slip out the first time, and Bradley would be caught so off guard that he kinda just freezes? But not because he doesn't want to be known as dad, but because you’ve just never spoken about it before or mentioned if you were comfortable with it or if Dot should even be calling Bradley her dad because well, he wasn't biologically.

“You're her father in all the ways that matter though Bradley, so if she's comfortable enough with you to call you dad then I'm okay with it too.” You barely blink after Bradley brings it up. Dot had called him dad at the kindergarten pick-up. She’d come racing out with a drawing she had done just for him, Like she’d done in daycare a million times before. Although this time she’d come racing up to him, jumped into his arms, and squealed two words Rooster knew he’d never forget and would never stop hearing in his dreams.

“Hi Dad!!”

“Okay, well good chat babe.” Bradleys just pressing his lips together and nodding softly, hoping that it wasn't just a one time thing. It's not. Dot calls Bradley dad whenever she isn't calling him Rooster, which had replaced Tooster a few months ago because her speech therapy had actually been working much to Bradleys shock horror. He missed Tooster.

But as Odette gets older, her attitude evolves and when she's fifteen? The spitting image of her mother and a pain in the ass, Dot is calling her uncle Jake to come pick her up from a house party she’d snuck out to attend. Only the cops had shown up and she high tailed it out of there so fast she ended up down at the beach crying. Jake doesnt come and get her, he rings Bradley who's jumping out of bed so fast he doesn't even put shorts on, boxers will just have to do.

“You’re not even my real dad!” She's yelling, a sobbing mess in the passenger seat of Bradleys Bronco, he’d just finished giving her the third degree but told her if she’s gonna do this type of stuff she has to tell him because he just wants her to be safe. “Where do you get off telling me what to do?” And Bradley hates himself for it because he knows it's not good for the Bronco but he's pulling over on the side of the road and slamming on his brakes so hard it sends both him and Odette forward for a moment before their backs hit the seats again.

“Listen here kid–” Bradleys gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw and pointing his index finger at the fifteen year old whos sitting next to him with alcohol running though her system and he fucking knows she high as a kite just by the red in her eyes. “I may not be your biological dad? But I'm here aren't I?” Rooster points out the elephant in the room. “Ive changed my fair fucking share of shitty dippers and I held your hand while I taught you how to rollerskate and ride a bike and I mashed your stupid bananas just so you could throw them in my face anyway.” Dot was dumbfounded, Bradley had never raised his voice at her like this but someone had to smack some sense into this kid before it was too late. “I pay half your school tuition and I make sure you don’t starve to death whenever your mothers working late and need I remind you I’m your legal goddamn guardian, your last name is Bradshaw! So no–I’m not your ‘real dad’ but I don’t need you giving me shit when I’m here and always have been here and always will be here and that deadbeat dickhead isnt and never fucking was.”

It’s silent for a moment while Odette just takes in what the fuck just happened—usually Bradley was pretty passive, never one to raise his voice. But she’d clearly upset him. He’s putting the Bronco into gear again, shifting the gear stick in frustration as he pulls back onto the main road cautiously—his attention now back on the road as he whips the steering wheel around with one hand.

“Your mother would be beside herself if something happened to you kid, so just do me a favour here? and tell me where you’re going, no questions asked.” Again, Roosters met with silence as the fifteen year old just tries to process everything Bradley had just said when her head is spinning and she can’t tell if her fingers were real or not.

“Do you reckon he knew I was defective?” Dots letting her head rest back against the seat as she tries to hide her tears while looking out the window. “That’s why he didn’t want me?” Odette Bradshaw was too young to remember what you’d been through to keep her safe, let alone know why her biological dad wasn’t in the picture.

“You aren’t defective Dot—“ Roosters sighing, he’s still fucking pissed but he can sympathise. “He just isn’t a good person, it was never you.” If there was a conversation Bradley Bradshaw knew not to start without your permission it was the topic of Dots biological father. “But I love you? Isn’t that enough?”

“Please—“ Odette scoffing, picking at her cuticles till they started to bleed a little. Huh, guess they are real after all. “You love mum and you love Riley and you love Nick—“ She’s pausing, her bottom lip quivering as she turned to look at Rooster. “But I was just the package deal.”

“You have no idea how much I love you kid—“ Bradley’s chuckling to himself as he flicks the indicator on. “You’re my daughter, end of story.”

“Yeah but like, you don’t have a choice?” Bradley could tell by the way Dot was slurring her words that she was gonna be sick by the time they pulled into the drive.

“No I don’t have a choice with Riley and Nick—“ Rooster explained. “Because I created them, I have to love them regardless, but you? I choose to love you and I choose to put up with your recklessness and I choose to get up in the middle of the night to come get your drunk ass because I love you and I choose to love you.”

“Really?”

“If you throw up in the car I may have to re-evaluate but yeah kid, you’re stuck with the ‘not real’ dad for life.” By the time Rooster is pulling into the drive your standing at the front door in your dressing gown, arms crossed—glasses on, looking all kinds of angry.

“Oh fuck she looks pissed—“ Dots groaning all the while Rooster is laughing.

“Hey you wanna be a rebel you gotta own up to the consequences of your own actions.”

“Please don’t tell her I’m high—“

“I’m not gonna tell her shit are you kidding me?” Rooster raises his eyebrows in utter disbelief. “Im not suicidal, you’re gonna tell her yourself.”

“Dad!” Dots pleading, begging Rooster to help her out. He thinks it’s hilarious, laughing as he watches you march down the three patio stairs.

“Oh so now it’s dad when you want a bodyguard huh?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt t @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse

#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw

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sugawhaaa · 11 months

Text

Hyunjin X reader

"If love was poison we'd drink it anyways~"

Part. 1

Sly fox dumb bunny

Warnings::mentions stealing, weapons, toxic relationships, bets, intoxication

Pairing::criminal!hyunjin! X cop!reader

A/N:: SORRY FOR THE WAIT IVE BEEN WRITING SO MANY OTHER FANFICS 🙇‍♀️ I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS LONG AWAITED PART 1

[Pls read epilog before this]

You turned around and pointed the gun at the man. He looked surprised but not afraid in the slightest. "Put your hands up or I'll shoot!" You shouted firmly at him.

"Who the Hell do you think you are?" The man laughed with a cocky expression.

"Officer Y/N L/N from the Korean national police, a senior inspector." You stated harshly while the man just laughed.

"And I'm Johnny Rob from the fucking circus, your rank doesn't mean shit to me." He laughed as he shrugged before putting his hand at his hip, like he was going to grab something. You pointed the tip of your gun at his hand before reluctantly pulling the trigger.

There was a loud bang! But nothing else. You opened your eyes to find his hand unharmed. "Haha you're gonna need these to shoot me." He said showing you the bullets in his hand. You looked at your gun in shock before hearing a loud crash behind you. Oh yeah there's two more! You turned around and saw the massive window now smashed to bits. You turned back around to where the blonde man was but he was nowhere to be found. You turned to the window again before running over to it and looked out of it. As you looked down at the ground you found no reminisce of the other two people from before. You examined the gun closer before realizing it was just a fake model gun!

You threw it on the floor before stomping out the door to go find the bartender from earlier. You spotted him and informed him of everything, he looked at you like you were crazy.

"Alright that's enough," he said as he put his hand up. "Seems like you've had enough drinks for tonight." He said as he started approaching you.

"No! I'm telling the truth! I'm a police officer and I work for the KNP!" You explained as you backed away from him.

"Yeah and I'm the government of America, let's get going home. Do you have that friend to drive you home?" He said as he held you, not forcefully, just enough to keep you standing here.

"Yeah, she's still in the club."

-time skip-

You sat in the back of Alyssa's car as she and her new friend Vanquisha sat in front chatting up a storm. You replayed what happened in your head over and over again. That's when the car halted and you realized you were already at your apartment. You thanked Alyssa for driving you and got out of the car. As you were shutting the car door Alyssa rolled down her window and called out your name. You walked over to the window and leaned in, she stuck her head out the window and softly spoke.

"Don't stress about what you think you saw tonight. I think the work stress is just getting to you and all those drinks made you visualize things that weren't there. Maybe there was a girl crying? And maybe you did follow them? But the rest was the alcohol. Maybe someone put something stronger in it to make you hallucinate?" She said as you were thinking about her every word.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you lied. You know what you saw. Those men were there, and the blonde one had a gun. Besides, the window was actually broken when you saw it later.

"Alright go get some sleep," Alyssa said with a wave of her hand before driving off. You were exhausted so you wasted no time getting changed and into bed. It was mere seconds before you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up with your hair a mess, blankets half off, clothes on backwards and you had no idea where you were. Perhaps you were a little tipsy last night. You checked your phone to see the battery was at 10% so you plugged it back in and sat in bed. Rethinking all your life choices. You then remembered today was a Friday so you had the entire day off and you weren't on call for the next month so you decided to start the day off with a nice healthy meal. You went out to your fridge and opened it to see…nothing.

"Fuck!" You said as you slammed the door. You then went to the cupboard to find coffee but when you opened it…no coffee. "I mean it's not like I had milk anyway," You said to yourself before closing the cupboard door. You decided to go down to the coffee shop nearby and pick up a little breakfast and some coffee before getting groceries.

You walked up to the line in the shop and looked around the menu. You come here often but you usually don't eat breakfast outside of your own home. When it was time for you to order you walked up to the counter and prepared to request your order but when you made eye contact with the woman at the counter you realized. She looks exactly like the girl from last night. You paused for a moment as you stared at her, she tilted her head and said "is something wrong mam?" You snapped back to reality and replied.

"Sorry, still not awake yet haha," you laughed.

"No,no I get you don't worry about it," She seemed super laid back and friendly and you could tell that by just 9 words. After ordering your food you picked it up and waved goodbye to the woman. You ate it on your way over to the supermarket to get some things to last you a few days. It'd be a fairly short visit.

You finished your breakfast and put the garbage in a trashcan on the side of the sidewalk. As you entered the store you realized you forgot your phone. You sighed and continued on shopping considering you were already here. Vegetables, meat, ketchup, milk, cheese, breakfast foods, snack food what else? You checked off the grocery list in your mind while going through the isle's. Ramen!

You went to the noodles section and started looking around. Unfortunately they didn't have your favorite instant Ramen so you had to find a substitute. As you examined different packs a man stood beside you. You didn't mind because all he was doing was the same as you until he tapped you on the shoulder. You looked up to see a soft man with fluffy blonde hair, glasses, a warm long coat smiling at you.

"I'm sorry but do you know where on this it'd say it's vegan?" He said warmly as he held the little circular box towards you. You looked at him suspiciously to which he responded with a frightened look. He looked so much like the man who had a gun last night.

"Oh don't worry. If it was vegan it'd be listed right here." You said as you pointed at the box for him.

"Thank you very much," he said with a light bow before moving around and checking the bowls of Ramen. He picked one up, checked it, and nodded before walking off. You eyed him for any suspicious behavior. You decided to stop him from walking past you.

"By the way, are you vegan?" You asked kindly.

"I'm afraid not. What makes you ask?" He said slightly aloof.

"I'm just interested in vegans and vegetarians, I think they're very well mind setted people." You explained.

"I can't help but agree," he said, taking a moment to stop and chat to you. Hands on his hips, one still holding his Ramen bowl.

"Why aren't you vegan?" You asked. It sounded a little stupid now that you thought about it but too late, you already said it.

"Too expensive haha," he chuckled awkwardly. "But I still try to get vegan things, such as Ramen." He said idly.

"Funny that you say that because you were the one asking me for help when it comes to knowing if it was vegan." You said getting a little serious.

"Whoa whoa, it's just that when I dormed with my ex-roommate he was the vegan one so he'd know how to get all the vegan food and I'd just follow his lead!" You explained sincerely.

"That makes sense but how did you never notice the big VEGAN label on them?" You said as you pointed at the box.

"My roommate would be the one to cook them." He explained getting serious himself.

"All the time?" You said with an uncertain look. That's when a man asked to get past you "O-oh sorry!" You apologized as you moved out of the way but when you turned back around again the man from before was gone. The only thing left was a vegan Ramen bowl on the floor. You picked it up and looked at it before sighing to yourself. Maybe work is getting to me… you thought to yourself.

You paid for your food and went back home. After putting everything away you checked your phone. You had 5 messages from Alyssa, she invited you to hang out with her and Vanquisha this evening. You replied with an excited yes and talked about the plans.

Time skip□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

It was now 5:43pm and you were at a Korean barbecue restaurant with Vanquisha and Alyssa. Basically third wheeling for the past hour. They weren't dating yet but it was PAINFULLY obvious they were both so into each other and as you watched them recreate perfect kdrama scenes throughout this get together you lost your mind.

It came time to pay and one of the young men came up to you and asked if they were ready to pay. Even during that they were being romantic. Fighting over which one of them was gonna pay until you frustratedly told the man to split it.

After paying you went out to Alyssa's car and sat in the back seat…again. As they were being lovey dovey you looked out the window and replayed your recent memories from the club and grocery store. The more you thought about it his facial features were similar to the blonde gunman at the club. Your head started aching at all this thinking.

"Sorry to butt in but is it okay if you drop me off now?" You said leaning forward to the two girls in front.

"Sure, but why don't you want to come with us?" Alyssa smiled at you while stopping at a red light.

"I'm not feeling great. I've got a headache and I'm feeling light headed," you explained.

"Oh okay. I'll drop you off now." Alyssa said before turning to the left when the light turned green. Vanquisha gave you some meds with a warm smile, her dark skin filled her eyes as she smiled.

You arrived home and lazily walked up to your apartment room. After fumbling around with the keys you got inside. At the window you found a male figure standing in the moonlight. You panicked and shouted "who are you!?" To the mysterious figure.

"Don't recognize me?" The man said as he turned around and approached you, his face now visible. You analyzed his features and it clicked. He pulled his hair back with a smirk. "You don't happen to have any vegan ramen?" He chuckled before sitting on a chair around your circular table.

"How the hell did you know where I live!?" You said angrily stomping over to him.

"Check the pocket of the jacket you wore to the grocery store," he said pointing to your jacket hanging on the wall. You looked at him suspicious before going over to your jacket. You shoved your hand in the pocket and found a little pill shaped red tracker in it. You grabbed it in a fist and growled. "You're pretty unaware for a cop," he smirked as he sipped some tea from one of your tea cups.

"When did you-" you said as you looked around for any remnants of him getting tea. Nothing to be found. You looked back at him to make sure he wasn't doing anything troublesome. "What do you want?" You said with crossed arms.

"I want you to quit your job." He said cheekily.

"What?!" You said as you stomped over to him. He was unbothered, simply sipping his tea. "Why the hell do you want me doing that?" You tried to get behind his motives.

"Haha, you really don't know anything about this police industry sweetie," he laughed as your fists clenched.

"Says you!" You said sitting down, arms crossed.

"I was once a fool like you," he waved his hand in the air. "Gullible, immature, slow," he stated as your blood boiled. "But it didn't take long for this fox to figure it all out," he said, gesturing to himself. You raised an eyebrow at him at his unbelievable talk.

"What do you mean by that?" You inquired. He shook his head with a "tsk, tsk, tsk"

He stood up and started heading for the door before you ran in front of it. He bent down to look at you in the eye. "I'm going to have to ask you to move, bunny." He said with a gentle smile that melted your heart. You snapped yourself out of it.

"No! And I'm not a bunny!" You retorted. He sighed and shook his head.

"You have no reason to keep me here so let me pass,"

"No! I have reasons!"

"Such as?"

"You broke into my house-"

"I opened it with a key," he chuckled as he dangled said keys in your face. You grabbed them and examined them.

"You put a tracker on me!" You gestured to your jacket and his eyes followed.

"Correction. I put it in your jacket. Not on you." He replied cockily. You grumbled and looked back at him. "Admit it, ya can't touch me bunny," he said, pushing you out of his way.

"No, no, no! Where'd you get the key!" You pointed a finger at him.

"I borrowed it from someone."

"Without my consent!" You replied angrily.

"I didn't get it from you, bunny." He chuckled as he started opening the door.

"Then who did you get it from?" You said as you stood in front of the door again.

"That is none of your concern, bunny" he said, getting annoyed with you.

"Would you stop calling me that!" You said with frustration.

"Listen toots." He knelt down to you. "If you quit your job in two weeks, I'll stop stealing, give you these keys, and never talk to you again." He stated. "I'll even stop committing crimes! Talk about being heroic. Stopping someone from ending countless lives by just stealing! Haha!" He said with annoyance.

"Promise?" You said sticking out a hand to him.

"Deal." He grabbed your hand and shook it. It felt like shaking the devil's hand. With that you let him open the door and just barely step out into the hallway before you spoke up.

"And if you break the deal I'll expose this audio recording." You said as you held up your phone that played a recording. "I'll stop stealing, give you these keys, and never talk to you again. I'll even stop committing crimes! Talk about heroic! Stopping someone from ending countless lives by just stealing!haha!"

You shut the door on his shocked face. He then started banging on the door.

"If you don't delete that I'm gonna-!"

You just laughed in response. "Do what?"

You said as you examined the keys you swiped off of the man. He just growled as he stopped banging on the door. "Admit it, you can't touch me fox," you giggled.

"Hey that's my line!" He kicked the door before leaving.

"We won't be seeing him for a while," you said to yourself outloud as you held up the exact copy of your keys that used to be in his hands.

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #skz hyunjin #skz x reader #skz ff #skz fanfic #skz smau #skz au #skz aus #skz mafia #skz #Spotify

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 5 months

Text

tuesday again 12/19/2022

shambling along towards the new year

listening

cotton heads by caravan palace. i think this has been on every spotify wrapped playlist ive ever had. soft and comforting in a way that’s hard for me to describe. this has been part of the background music in some of the softest times of my life, winter-warm and safe and solitary noodling around on some project that involves a lot of fiddling with tiny pieces on a desk. spotify

youtube

reading

houston thrift stores are, predictably, awash with cowboy western novels. mostly it’s every louis l’amour or zane grey possible (no thanks)

jake logan’s SLOCUM AND THE YELLOWBACK TRAIL is number three hundred and seventy nine in the series, which is quite impressive. i am fascinated when a book attempts to transplant a cowboy into an urban environment so we’ll stick with it for a bit, despite a truly horrible sex scene describing a “rigid pole”. there were no onomatopoeia sex sounds which is both blessing and curse bc the intel SLOCUM gathered during this sex scene seemed like a completely different conversation totally unrelated to the sex he was having. she simply happened to come three times in three pages while telling him everything he needed for Next Location.

watching

saw several very beautiful movies in the last two weeks, one of which i liked very much.

youtube

Experiment in Terror (1962, dir. Edwards) has one of my favorite Mancini-composed pieces of music but i had never seen the movie it was from. a neo-noir man with an asthmatic rasp puts pressure on a bank teller and her teen sister to rob the bank by terrorizing them through various means. however, despite successfully playing on a lot of Womanly Fears (unexpected phone calls, driving at night, being alone) the fbi. this is perhaps a bit snide since it is extremely good at keeping the tension up through most of the runtime, the leads all did a good job imo— a letterboxed reviewer pointed out the villain played by Ross Martin has a certain chameleon-like quality from scene to scene and it is really arresting, he pops up in some unexpected places to great effect. a well-shot movie, just a hair longer than i wanted it to be, i don’t think any movie could survive the hype i built up in my head after loving than mancini piece so much, and was not quite the vibe i was looking for on the afternoon i finished it.

dailymotion

in a different noir with an important scene during a baseball game, Stray Dog (1949, dir. Kurosawa). everything you could possibly say about this movie has already been said. mifune is such a fucking joy to watch as a somewhat hapless young cop with a bad case of the scruples. gets his fully loaded pistol pickpocketed on the tram, sending him hither and yon during a brutally hot summer tracking down every bullet. widely available for free. fucking beautiful work of art. deeply annoying when widely acclaimed movies are actually really good

playing

nothing new to report, nothing i want to play has been a free epic game lately. very excited that a character ive been waiting for is dropping in genshin on…uhhhhh…tomorrow? she has sunglasses. she has a gunbrella. she can call in heavy cannon bombardment. she’s just so cute

making

one of the purposes of the tuesdaypost is to remind myself to expand the selection of things i do and my brain partially feels like sludge bc of the time of year and partially bc i haven’t fucking done anything more complicated than scrambled eggs or cleaning things in like two weeks

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Spotify

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violasghost · 10 days

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Random thoughts about Rookie S6 Finale (6X10)

I admit I went into this finale with low expectations due to how the rest of the season has panned out and I'm kind of happy I did. I didn't hate it but it wasn't one of the best Rookie finale's Ive seen either.

First with the Nolan/Bailey baby story line--Why are they forcing this so hard? Nolan and Bailey cant even find time to have a full conversation uninterrupted about bringing a child into their life. If they cant even find time to talk about it, are they going to have time to raise a kid? Just think this is a story line that should have been dropped. It sucks valuable time away from more interesting plots and its really unnecessary. If anyone should have been discussing having kids (pre-breakup at least) it should have been Chenford.

And speaking of Chenford. I did enjoy the Chenford action scene and Lucy saving Tim from being stabbed. It was probably the highlight of the episode as far as action, character growth, and making progress on the police side of things.

I don't really understand the whole Monica/Blair plot. I'm sorry but Blair really seems like a naive simpleton to me. Did she not think that there would not be consequences to recording LAPD patients and blackmailing them? Did she really think Monica (a crooked lawyer) was going to protect her from the LAPD and FBI? Kind of disappointed in Blair to be honest.

The multiple villains this season has also been really confusing. I don't feel like Monica can represent the 'Big Bad' like Rosalyn or even Elijah. Shes a power hungry lawyer who wants money and has probably killed a couple people, but in the context of other big bad's--she's pretty weak. I was hoping they would bring Elijah back as the one who wanted Monica dead since that story line would make more sense with the last scene of him ending with Oscar meeting him in prison, and having plenty of time to plot his revenge.

Bringing me to the cliffhanger at the end. With Bailey's ex breaking out of prison. Haven't we seen this story line before? This is unpopular opinion (and I have no ill will against Jenna Dewan), but I honestly think the best move they could make to return to the action/suspense heyday of S1-S5, would be to kill Bailey. Her character is dead weight. Lately the only time she has been showcased was to basically portray her as Nolan's perfect little wife who has no flaws, and allows him to swoop in as her prince charming every episode, etc. Her death would be really interesting story arc for Nolan, and would allow him to put more focus on his cop-life.

I do also agree with others who are saying that Nolan needs to face some consequences to his actions. Him going rogue in Argentina and disobeying direct orders from the FBI, should be reprimanded. Also he hasn't really been present in his role as TO either. How many episodes has Nolan actually rode with Celina as her TO? 50% of this season. Think he is due for an evaluation.

And then there was the Chenford elevator scene. I also think this scene was over-hyped. Although I'm happy that Tim said what he did, I was hoping to hear something from Lucy. Girl still hasn't gotten her adult conversation yet. Hoping this will still happen in S7. The reason it didn't have me squeeing was due to the body language. One episode before they were holding on for dear life to each other in that very same elevator, and this time Lucy was as far away from Tim as she could get. I know realistically it will likely take time for them to find their way back together, but it just kind of felt a little one step forward two steps back to me.

The silver lining, no major characters died. And they didn't destroy any more relationships. So there's that.

Okay so after writing all that out I realize my take on the finale may be a little critical. I'm hoping to have some more time to reflect over the summer and read other points of view. Its going to be a long wait but I suppose we survived S6, so at least next season after the long wait, instead of a half season, there will be a full season of episodes to better flesh out story lines and character motives.

What did you think?

#the rookie #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #tim and lucy #tucy

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via-the-cryptid · 7 months

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Ive been thiking a little about some things:

1.- I dont remember if one of the Rules of Prismo's Wishroom was that you have to arrive on your own to get a wish or you could be invited, but even if thats the case they could still have Farmworld's Enchiridion (because here there is no backstabbing that ends with the book destroyed) to open a portal so Simon gets his wish the right way.

2.- Talking about Farmworld, I cant imagine how Finn, who has been living with a magical snow mom for a couple of months/years by now, would react to seeing a magical ice version of himself in Crossover.

3.- Continuing with Farmworld, we assume that both that and the regular timeline advance at the same time, so if they go into the multiversal adventure with Finn still being a Teenager, that would mean that Farmworld Finn would also be a Teenager when they arrive. But that could open another story, maybe they find him after his parents and brother died/left for some reason and he is on his own with normal Jake and Bartram, maybe when he meets his future wife AKA Huntress Wizard.

4.- If you think about it regular Marceline its indeed stronger than the Star we saw on canon because while the Star has the powers of all the Vampire Council, Marceline has that +VK pure vampire soul. Also idea, this Star was raised by The Empress instead of the VK, because she was the one who wanted to create an Empire on Stakes and in this AU maybe she trained Marceline to take down VK and get the throne. Also that opens the chance to have Betty saying "Empress! You're a bad Mother!"

answering in sections again:

1. I don’t think it’s ever specified if you have to arrive naturally or if you can be invited when it comes to making a wish — the only rule I remember (and there may be others that I forgot, so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong) is that you can only have one wish per person. as far as I know, Magic Simon should be able to make his wish when he’s first invited to the wish cube in order to explain the Snow Queen situation. however, if you do have to get there naturally and you can’t be invited if you’re making a wish, he’d probably just tell Finn, Jake, and Marceline what he was doing so they could help him collect the jewels and open the portal with their own enchiridion.

2. Finn would probably be very weirded out by Ice Finn, and it would also make him consider the whole Snow Queen situation even more. He sees this version of himself who’s absolutely destroyed by the crown, and then he turns around and sees his mom, who’s just… kinda senile and obsessed with her husband. I feel like that’s gotta mess him up, to know that the crown that made Betty obsess over Simon, also turned Finn into a monster in a different reality. if he talks to Snow Betty about it later, she’ll probably be able to explain the way the crown corrupts and what she was like at the start, as well as Ice Finn’s motivations for doing what he’s doing (because it’s not purely malicious, Ice Finn clearly talks about keeping everyone safe with his ice and trying to protect them), but that will be have to come later since they’re pretty busy avoiding the interdimensional cops when the two Finns meet.

3. you are right, and I actually didn’t consider that before, but I definitely should have. in that case, Farmworld Finn probably still has his wife (could be Huntress Wizard, Phoebe, or even Rosalinen from the Puhoy episode) and might have already had Jay, maybe? but probably none of the either children, and Jay would still be a baby, as would Little Destiny. I think Magic Simon and Snow Betty & co would probably still follow someone out to the crater, but in this case it’s more likely to be Farmworld Finn showing them that the crown is already destroyed, at which point they find the Jewel and decide to use it to find another version of the crown, and then Scarab shows up and they gotta book it real fast. Magic Simon may be way more powerful than he has any right to be, but nobody wants to risk him or anyone else getting put in one of those eggs if Scarab manages to hit them at the right moment. Farmworld Finn runs as soon as Scarab arrives, specifically because the Ooo gang told him to and because Magic Simon immediately started having a wizard showdown, and Farmworld Finn ain’t getting involved in wiz biz.

4. you’re RIGHT, she IS! and you’re also right about the Empress probably being the one to take a front role in raising her, because it seems like the VK is definitely following Empress’s plans here. Snow Betty would definitely yell at her and probably chuck a rock at her head, which I doubt would do anything but it would certainly make Snow Betty feel better. Marceline and the Star also get to have a showdown while Vampworld Bonnie watches and realises that maybe perhaps she has a bit of a crush on this alternate Marceline. just a small one. maybe actually a really big one. regardless, I think that VK is still the one with the crown and is ‘in charge’ of the empire, but he’s a little senile and it’s really Empress pulling the strings and mildly grooming the Star as her replacement if she or VK ever falls.

#adventure time #snow queen au #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #petrigrof role swap #fionna and cake #finn mertens #farmworld finn #marceline abadeer #the star #the empress #adventure time stakes #prismo the wishmaster #answered asks

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themolldollincident · 9 months

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Queer tormented by ocd plays disco elysium absolutely zooted on edibles, a tragically short story in only seven snapchats

Not my typical content but i had to post it.

I LOVE video games but my OCD makes them very distressing to play sometimes. My playthrough HAS to be perfect or i get extremely distressed - not like i have to do a good job and win, but more like every single playthrough has to be a beautiful work of art from beginning to end, no decisions or time wasted on things that dont serve the STORY and the CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, and CERTAINLY no sidequests left uninvestigated and no bonus content left undiscovered. This has gotten harder in recent years as video games have become more complex and more beautiful, so oftentimes you CANT uncover every single thing AND play a consistent character, because huge swaths of content are often locked behind certain decisions that you CANT MAKE if you're committing to a specific character arc or story. So anyway a while ago I played through Disco Elysium. I LOVED IT. It was FANTASTIC. It was difficult to get through at times because of the ocd but it was so so worth it and helped me practice not engaging in compulsions.

HOWEVER.

I recently decided to play it through AGAIN while absolutely fucking ZOOTED on some edibles i've discovered that make it to where i basically dont fucking have my extremely severe case of ocd for just a few hours. (They are heavenly and i love them). I thought it would be really fun to play the whole game again, but this time i ONLY open up this save when im zooted, and i ONLY have fun, with NO pressure to make the playthrough any kind of art. JUST have FUN playing a VIDEO GAME for the first time in my life. I decided i would ONLY pick the dialogue options i found the most amusing, without doing my typical 20 minutes of overthinking for each dialogue box. I was going goofy mode and i was so excited. It didnt exactly go the way i thought it would though LMAO

This is the result of that tragically short but hilarious playthrough that had me SCREAMING in my living room, told in 7 snapchats

1. Opening the game and noticing something i somehow never noticed during the whole first playthrough around 5:35 pm

2. Creating a character build, 5:38 pm

3. Deciding to have a 1 in all stats except psyche and pour all points into psyche so that i can be psychic cop, failing to realize (because edibles) that there is a low attribute cap at the beginning, so i just accidentally chose to hamstring my attributes and just NOT USE my three points to build my character, 5:40 pm

4. Choosing ONLY Inland Empire for my skill increase, once again failing to realize that i wasnt maxxing out inland empire, i was just failing to use two skill points. Also i was enjoying the music in the skill screen, which is beautiful, but since i was high i thought the 5 minutes i spent just vibing to the music was like 30 minutes so i thought i wasted a bunch of time, 5:48pm. (Ive decided to call this method of accidentally using only one skill/attribute point at the beginning of the game because youre too zooted to play video games well "Harry-Maxxing".)

5. Going through the "trying to wake up" beginning of the game choosing only the funniest dialogue options and seeing dialogue i had never seen before! Fun! But also before i took this pic i referenced the nina chimera FMA meme and my partner hadnt heard of it so i explained it for only like 10 minutes, but again, since i was high, i thought i wasted like 2 hours on that. But it was only 6:16 pm.

6. and 7. A glorious 3 minutes later, i decide turning the light on is a great first move (its been a bit since my first playthrough). Again, i am only choosing the funniest dialogue options and not thinking super well, so i just kept saying shit like "BRING IT ON" and "Let it all go" because i thought it was typical harry being overdramatic and weird, and i thought it was hilarious. Turns out i had a heart attack from turning the light on and immediately died. Literally like 5 minutes of actual playtime. Incredible. I love this game.

It wasnt the full playthrough i was hoping for but it was awesome. Rip harry number 2. I definitely recommend harry-maxxing

#disco elysium #harry disco elysium #harry du bois #harry maxxing #edibles

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borderline-culture-is · 2 months

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Hi, this is a long ask. I am not diagnosed with anything, but Ive been thinking that I might have bpd. I started self harming at 9 yo, and was given ssri and antipsychotics to treat the symptoms, because i was too young to be diagnosed. Three years ago I moved countries, and I was so stressed that I literally ragequit talking all my medications, because I couldn’t sustain importing it from my country. Follow two horrible years of withdrawal, where I kept having derealization episodes, panic attacks, delusions followed by crying spells that lasted for hours, inability to maintain any relationships at all, I was incredibly angry and abusive to my mother, all that fun stuff. For the first year I refused to get any therapy because I thought they didn’t care about me and didn't want to settle for that, and the second year I was so crushed that if a fucking rock would listen (metaphorically), I would break down to it. Still not getting much support atm because being underage in an unfamiliar system makes it really hard to know what to do.

I only shook out of this state in the beginning of this school year, when my teacher called the cops on me for self-harming. I started working on regulating my emotions, meditating, and just accepting that I am the weird one for feeling this way and learning not to blame or burden other people. I also started noticing that my whole live ive only had FPs, and not a lot of genuine close relationships (I feel like I depend on them for my satisfaction, always feel betrayed for not being closer, but also feeling hesitant to even call them a friend). Before I kinda just assumed that everyone felt the same way, and that I was pathetic for feeling dependent and lonely. I also noticed that I have horrible episodic memory loss, I have to exclusively rely on other people or recorded evidence to shape any perception of my past.

I think, to an extent, my other traits have cancelled out some of my symptoms: I never lashed out or argued with my classmates because I was too scared that they would leave me, so instead I forced myself to act in the most mild way possible; I do have black and white thinking towards new people, but I make myself ignore it because I understand that it is my fault and I am being unreasonable; I never acted impulsively because I was too depressed or too scared to be proactive in any way at all.

My biggest issue with self-diagnosing is that I have never had any traumatic experiences. I come from a caring family, and, although I still blame my mom for feeling unfulfilled and neglected, there isn’t anything my parents really did wrong. She did as much as she could and I feel guilty for resenting her. I don’t remember any of my childhood, but it is completely reasonable to assume that nothing ever happened that would count as traumatic.

My point is, I have already either developed some coping mechanisms, or have come to accept that I will always feel misunderstood and unhappy. Even if I do have some kind of a disorder, I am unsure whether I should even try to get diagnosed in the first place. If I do, this would mean that my whole life is thrown out of the window with a diagnosis like that on my medical chart. It would negatively impact my human rights, my employability, my independence, all those things I really can’t afford to compromise, being an immigrant and trans. But at the same time, I just really want to find out what the hell is wrong with me, to feel understood and to have some support on how to live a normal life.

Yeah I guess the main purpose of this ask is to vent to someone who understands, and to ask for your opinion and advice on whether you think I have a disorder and if I should attempt to get it diagnosed.

--☀️🎣anon

okay. even if you dont think you have any trauma, theres still a lot of factors that could contribute to it. i think its also worth mentioning that you said you cant really remember your childhood, so it does leave some room for trauma that you either may not remember or just might not see as traumatic. and i also think that feeling neglected as a kid could do some damage, even if its unintentional. sometimes parents hurt their kids without realizing, and it doesnt invalidate the way that you feel about it!!

as for diagnosis, i think its okay for you to self-diagnose, as there are a lot of difficulties and struggles that comes with being diagnosed. i think it really depends on whether or not you personally see it as worth all of the potential trouble that it can bring. i do think that your symptoms are valid, and i can see a lot of hem as lining up with BPD. if you're really doubting, i dont think downloading a copy of the DSM-5 would be a bad idea, since it's what professionals usually reference from anyway.

regardless of whether or not you choose to get diagnosed, you and your struggles are valid!!! as someone who has also experienced BPD symptoms since we were young, we definitely feel for you. if you definitely think you are borderline, then i believe you are valid as long as you dont mean any harm, and i am pretty sure that you dont :]. we genuninely wish for the best for you, and we hope that your situation and overall well-being gets better soon 🫶 (/p)

- oliver

#not culture #advice #bpd questions #vent #- ☀️🎣

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lheautontimoroumenos · 11 months

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cops + govt are absolutely bastards and i wish the one who killed nahel would get more than whats (probably) going to be given to him, and i support the riots going on for justice and to bring this issue to the forefront. but honestly how hard is it to not attack schools and places where people live? there were families in danger with the car on fire releasing fumes into the building. little kids aren't going to be able to go to school or will have to have counseling to understand whats going on

hi anon! I'm glad you're asking this and I'll try to be careful and kind in my answer. If my tone comes off kind of angry I apologize, I just meant to avoid this kind of reaction with my post.

I'm gonna try to answer this in two big parts where it seems we disagree : first the "how hard is it not to attack schools" side of the problem.

Then I'll go more widely on the questioned necessity of destruction and its nature.

(also I apologize if not everything is clear, the French to English brain on this topic is kinda weird, I'm open to more asks if you want something more precise).

Alright, PART UNO, Why Burn Down Schools

Okay, so absolutely no offense, but I'm gonna guess you were a good or at least okay student and therefore had a good relationship to school. I'm also gonna assume you didn't go to school in the banlieue or in establishments on the REP/ZEP list (Network or Zone of Priority Education), this classification is done based on the IPS or Social Position Indicator. Etablishments in REP in Paris today are around 90; the one I went to as a kid around 74; in Nanterre, where Nahel was killed, high schools are around 90 and middle schools between 80 and 90. By comparison Henri IV and Louis Le Grand, two very prestigious high school in downtown Paris have an IPS of around 140. The point being that in those spaces, even if you personally do well as a student, most of your peers have a very different relationship to the institution that is "school".

It has been widely accepted since Bourdieu's Les Héritiers (1964) that school is a machine that reproduces and legitimizes inequalities. We know children of workers, little employees, and people working low wage jobs do worse in school than children of teachers, or state workers, or people working high paying jobs, or that have already done high level studies. We also know these kids get to school at the same time but with a different baggage, and that the baggage from relatively rich (in economic or cultural capital) kids coming from relatively rich families is favored over the baggage from kids from poor families. That is because the first one belongs to what Bourdieu calls "legitimate culture", which is not legitimate in and of itself but legitimized by the dominant class to keep itself where it is. I'm not gonna talk about Les Héritiers the whole time, but in addition to the class difference and struggle in legitimate culture is a struggle especially present in banlieues of foreign culture being considered illegitimate.

The point is not that poor kids or kids of color are bad at school and that's just how it is, but that school as an institution is already a violence to them. It is traumatizing, built to make them fail, all the while telling them it's their fault because school is fair and based on merit. But it's not, because it values things and abilities as if all students start off from the same point (which is false) and make them believe the run was fair (which is false as well). Sometimes the blame is on the teachers, but most often it is the institution that inherently fails them and lowers their self-esteem. (Also, fun fact, I think it was a study done by IPSOS that showed that if they had the same grade, let's say an average of 9/20, in CE1, kids of workers were more likely to be made to redo their year, whereas rich kids would go to the next level anyway).

So you're right, it's easy to think that you shouldn't burn down a school when your rapport to it is: "what a great place, even if it pisses me off sometimes, I learn things and I can see my friends and have fun, burning it down would not help". But when school is a) a violence to you, and b) a lot of the time already breaking down because regardless of what they say on TV the State does not allocate enough resources to banlieues, well it's easier to burn it to the ground (this way maybe they'll actually rebuild it and be careful about abestos/amiante).

That doesn't mean it's good or right or forgivable and therefore forgiven (that's to your own discretion), but what it is, is understandable. These kids are fighting against a whole system, the police, its support by the State, and more widely the State itself and its shitty handling of banlieues and their inhabitants.

Okay, PART DOS, Is Violence Necessary, If So Which Kind

I'm gonna assume and hope you're not one of the people jerking off to theoretical revolution and praising the black block but getting scared when things actually get serious.

You're saying you wish they would be capable of keeping the riots to actual figures of police violence, I guess, or at least try not to harm innocents or do too much collateral damage (thinking about libraries, etc. I hope you can understand how schools also stand as violence to the rioters now).

My gut reaction is to say that's just not possible. If you really want the revolution and the change that comes with it (not just repealing the 2017 law), you have to be prepared to make sacrifices and for collateral damage (again, not saying it's good or right, or that you should thrive for it, just that it's virtually impossible to do without it).

I know some people have been saying they should go to actual places of power, go shake Darmanin out of his fascist bubble, but I also think people don't realize what this means. In the banlieues, they are in known and mostly friendly territory, which makes it easy for them to use the "be water" strategy (scatter when cops arrive). They know these streets and where to run, where to climb, where to hide. If they were to go to downtown Paris? they wouldn't have any of these advantages, plus they would be faced with the anti-riot plan built into the very architecture of the city streets (Haussman and Napoleon III I hate you). Just like the Parisians demonstrated against the pension reform in Paris, the place they know, the banlieusards are doing the same in the banlieues.

Now endangering kids is not the way to go, there we agree. The point of disagreement is that you think the rioters are going to be the ones making victims whereas I think the cops will, and already have (see the guy killed in Marseille by a flash ball impact, or the one from Mont-Saint-Martin in a coma).

(If you want to read something about the price of revolution, I'd recommend Les Justes by Camus, it's pretty short and you can come to different conclusions when you're done.)

You wrote "people need to have consideration for other kids in France". That sounds a tad condescending to me but I don't think you meant it that way. The problem is that they are not considered by other kids in France! as was showed in 2005 and as is showed today by the reactions on social media. You are asking the oppressed to make the first act of love here, and in a way you're right, Paulo Freire would say that next to violence, a revolution is only successful if it contains radical love, and that cannot come from the oppressor, but it is also a hard thing to ask of people. Especially when they know they will be ignored if they don't shake the political landscape a little.

I think you would enjoy reading Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed, it's not too long and it's very interesting regarding this topic.

Now I'd be careful with how you talk about the kids needing to "control themselves" because it sounds condescending here as well (though again I don't think that is how you mean it) and can be understood quite badly. I think what you may be alluding to however is the crowd effect that the riots can have. Once you start, breaking things with your friends, it does feel good, you release energy, you laugh, it's a good time really. The risk is to take the euphoria too far and not realize what you're doing, which of course happens but is really magnified by the media and is actually pretty marginal in the actual riots. But you're right that being in a group makes you forget about yourself (see: demonstrations, sport fans, etc.) and the rioters are not exempt from that.

I think, if anything, what one could fault the rioters for is that they are alienating themselves sometimes from their own communities. That is really going the same as in 2005 I feel like, with some worried moms, or people who agreed at the beginning but think it's lasting too long now. The problem is that politically, the people saying they will stop the riots are the National Rally (fascists) and at a smaller scale Rebirth (Macron's party, right wing). But Macron won't be able to run again next time (we wouldn't want him to) and I doubt his party is gonna hold without him. That leaves us with the fascist RN. So the kids could be building up to their own destruction.

(It is still important to say that even if the RN is elected next time, it will NOT be the rioters fault but the fault of the people who voted for a fascist party to lead the country.)

I don't think I have anything left to say right now, if you have other questions/need precision my ask box is open!

If you want to read more about school as a very imperfect institution I would recommend reading stuff from François Bégaudeau, Entre les murs (it's fiction inspired by his reality as a teacher, there was also a movie), he also mentions it regularly in talks that you van find on YouTube. I'll recommend again Paulo Freire's The Pedagogy of the Oppressed because it really is an amazing book.

P.S. I wrote this with less than 5 hours of sleep so I might be repeating myself and/or forgetting things

#upthebaguette #justice pour nahel #anon #ask #open to discussion etc etc

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kk095 · 1 year

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Casey’s Traumatic Arrest

Casey Mullins was a 34 year old woman with wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a nice tan. The cute southern girl stood at 5’5 with a slim to average build, and had a conventionally attractive appearance. Casey had a husband Ryan, a 2 year old son Tyler, worked as a dental hygienist at an office downtown, and by all accounts appeared to have a normal, happy life.

A few nights ago, Casey left work at 6pm as always, and headed into the parking garage across the street. After entering the garage, a man in a dark colored jacked followed Casey to her car and attempted to rob+carjack her at knifepoint. She attempted to reach for a canister of pepper spray attached to her keyring to try and subdue the attacker, but the man panicked and quickly stabbed Casey 3 times- once in the neck, and twice in the chest. Casey’s eyes opened up wide, and she yelped in pain. She took a few desperate gasps while her eyes rolled back a bit, then collapsed to the ground. Casey now laid on the ground next to her car, semi conscious in a pool of her own blood. “shitshitshit! I didn’t mean to kill this bitch!” the attacker said to himself in a frantic, stressed tone, never expecting his crime to escalate to this extent. The attacker tossed the bloody knife into a nearby dumpster, and made a beeline for the staircase, leaving Casey for dead.

Several minutes later, a person heading back to their car from one of the other downtown offices were horrified by the sight of Casey bleeding out in the garage, and called 911. “911, what is your emergency?” a female voice asked. “there’s a woman covered in blood in the parking garage! I think she might be dead!” the caller replied nervously. “ma’am, I need you to remain calm for me. Can you tell me the location of your emergency?” the dispatcher replied calmly. “I’m in the parking garage on the corner of 21st and Atlantic! Send someone now! I think she’s dead!” the panicked caller shouted into the phone. “I have people on the way now. Can you tell me if the woman is breathing?” the dispatcher asked, trying to acquire more information for the incoming responders. The caller slowly approaches Casey’s bloody, unconscious body and takes a look at her torso. Casey’s chest was rising and falling slowly, so she was in fact breathing. “yes! Yes, she’s breathing! You guys gotta hurry!” the caller shouts into the phone. “alright ma’am, I have units on the way, they should be there any moment now. I need you to remain on the line for me please.” The dispatcher replied.

First on the scene was a cop in the area. It was officer Natalie- a cute, Hispanic, 30-something tomboy. Officer Natalie approaches Casey and takes a look at her. “those definitely look like knife wounds.” Natalie says to herself. “did you see anything miss? Do you know who did this?” Natalie turns her attention, asking the caller. “No! I just found her like this!” the caller replies. “alright. You can hang up the phone. Let’s step to the side for a minute and I’ll get your statement. I’m sure you’ve been through a lot this evening.” Natalie replies to the visibly shaken up young lady.

Finally, EMS shows up- the medics on scene that night were Tracy, a cute blonde 30 something tomboy, and Stephanie, a tall, thin, 20-something brunette in a messy bun. The two park the ambulance and scurry over to Casey. Tracy gloved up and places 2 fingers on Casey’s neck on the opposite side of the stab wound to take a carotid pulse. “pulse is weak and thready, and I can see she’s breathing.” Tracy says. Stephanie pulls out a pair of shears and begins cutting off Casey’s scrub top which was absolutely drenched in blood at that point. Casey’s black sports bra was then snipped off, exposing her perky b-cup breasts. While Stephanie continued stripping Casey down to just her underwear, Tracy set up 2 large bore IVs and then set up a 5 lead EKG with a portable heart monitor. “BP’s 50/palp, heart rate’s in the toilet. Let’s hang a bag of fluids wide open and get her intubated.” Tracy called out. Stephanie began setting up the IV bags while Tracy picked up a laryngoscope and a 7.5 ET tube. Tracy navigated the tube into Casey’s airway, but ran into some resistance. Tracy repositioned the tube and continued advancing it. However, the distal end of the tube ended up protruding from the open wound in Casey’s neck. “tracheal avulsion. I think you need to trach her.” Stephanie suggests to Tracy. “Yeah, the trachea is split wide open just before I get to the carina.” Tracy replied in agreement.

At that point it was decided a tracheotomy would be performed in the field. Tracy is handed the surgical airway kit while Stephanie wiped off Casey’s neck with an alcohol wipe. Tracy made a horizontal incision through the skin that was about 1.5 centimeters. The tissue underneath was bluntly dissected and the thyroid was identified so they knew to avoid it. Next, Tracy punctured through the 1st and 2nd tracheal ring with a needle, and was met with a slight hissing sound of trapped air exiting the area. Next, Tracy decided to use a guide wire to keep the trachea partially inflated/expanded to make the insertion of the breathing tube easier. Generally, the trachea and esophagus tend to collapse in on themselves when compromised via injury, and that can make intubation and NG tube insertion more difficult. Next up, the tube was navigated into Casey’s trachea, and into the correct place. Once the tube was in the correct place, the guide wire was carefully removed, and a cuff was placed on Casey’s neck to hold the tube in place.

After the difficult intubation was complete, Casey was placed on a backboard and onto a gurney, and taken into a nearby ambulance for transport. During transport, Stephanie did the driving, and Tracy was in the back taking care of the cute blonde victim. The ambulance sped down the road, lights and sirens blaring, trying to get Casey to the ER as soon as humanly possible. Tracy and Stephanie were doing everything right, but Casey’s condition started to deteriorate further. “shit, no pulse. PEA. Starting compressions.” Tracy called out, shaking her head. She placed her gloved hands on Casey’s chest and began delivering deep, strong chest compressions. Her chest caved in and her belly bounced outward from the brute force of the compressions she was receiving. “1… 2… 3… come on, don’t let that SOB win…” Tracy said, as if she was convincing Casey to not die. “what’s our ETA Steph?” Tracy asked. “gimme 2 minutes. We’re almost there!” Stephanie replied. Tracy performed a cycle of 1 handed chest compressions for a moment while injecting epinephrine and atropine into Casey’s IV line. “got a dose of meds in.” Tracy called out to Stephanie.

Upon arrival at the emergency department, Casey was still in full cardiac arrest. Tracy got on the gurney and straddled Casey, delivering strong, vigorous compressions, while Stephanie wheeled the gurney into the trauma room where Dr Lindsay, nurse Nancy, and nurse Heather waited. “34 year old female, multiple stab wounds to neck and chest. Tracheotomy on scene, lost a pulse en route. Down 2 minutes, epi and atropine x1” Stephanie said, giving the trauma team the rundown of the case. Tracy hopped off the gurney but continued compressions for a moment before Casey got transferred onto the table underneath the large overhead light.

Once on the table, Heather resumed CPR and Tracy stuck around and provided some ambu bagging. “start her on the MTP. I need 4 units of unmatched o-neg, 2 of platelets, 2 of FFP. I think we need a right chest tube as well, so let’s get a chest tube tray set up.” Dr Lindsay ordered, taking control of the hectic situation. Nurse Nancy began scurrying around the room gathering the necessary equipment for Lindsay. The doctor lowered her stethoscope onto Casey’s bare chest and listened to her lung sounds. “ok, no breath sounds present on the right side. That knife probably nicked her lung. I’m gonna need that chest tube tray.” Lindsay called out. Nancy quickly set up the chest tube tray for Lindsay, and she promptly began the procedure. Blood shot out of the tube and onto Lindsay’s yellow trauma gown once it was placed. “what a mess…” Lindsay said, taking a look at her trauma gown. “yeah… you should see how bad that parking garage looks. Whatever that knife hit, it was something major.” Medic Stephanie added, who was watching the trauma code on the other side of the room.

A second dose of epinephrine and atropine were pushed into Casey’s IV line, but PEA turned into an agonal rhythm, then agonal to asystole over the coming minutes. “thoracotomy tray. I need to see what’s going on in there. Nothing’s working.” Dr Lindsay says decisively, knowing the cute blonde was running out of time.

Betadine was splashed onto Casey’s chest, staining it an orangey-brown hue. Lindsay asks for a scalpel, and elects to access Casey’s thoracic cavity via a clamshell thoracotomy. Lindsay made a cut in between the 4th and 5th rib on each side of Casey’s chest, then connected the incision in the center of the chest near the sternum. Lindsay made a deep cut, already slicing through the underlying fat and subcutaneous tissue, so the only thing that needed to be incised was the intercostal muscle between the ribs. Lindsay cuts the muscle and gets a decent opening, then reaches her hand into the cut to move the lung out of the way to make room for the spreader. Next, Lindsay divides the sternum horizontally with a gigli saw as fast as she can. With the sternum finally divided, the rib spreader was placed into the cut, and Casey’s chest was pried open.

Once Casey’s chest was opened, Lindsay placed vascular clamps on the descending aorta near her diaphragm, and on the right pulmonary hilum. Lindsay wasn’t sure if there was tamponade or not, so she felt Casey’s motionless heart for a moment. It felt very tense and rigid, but was still unsure, so she incised the fibrous lining of the heart. Thick, gooey blood immediately exited, and Casey’s motionless heart began to twitch frantically now that there was some space for it to move a little. “she’s in v-fib. Charge the paddles to 20.” Lindsay called out. The large, spoon shaped paddles were handed to Lindsay, and the first shock was delivered. A dull, wet thump was heard, and Casey’s torso flopped quickly in response. “no change, charge to 30.” Lindsay called out, shaking her head.

The internal paddles were placed around Casey’s weakly twitching heart, and shock #2 was delivered. Her body jolted sharply in response, but v-fib was still on the monitors. “nothing. Let’s hit her again at 30. Everyone…. Clear!” Dr Lindsay shouted. The electricity ran through Casey’s dying body, causing her toes to scrunch at the other end of the table, showing of the cute, silky wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 9 feet, as well as the fresh pedicure on her toes. “still nothing. Push epi and atropine, resuming internal compressions.” Dr Lindsay called out, reaching her hands into Casey’s exposed chest cavity. Lindsay could feel Casey’s heart fidgeting around in her hands, but it was very weak at best. Lindsay vigorously massaged Casey’s heart for a bit. “5…6…7…8… still v-fib…” Lindsay counted out loud, looking at the heart monitors.

Dr Lindsay and the trauma team shocked Casey 5 more times, maxed her out on drugs, and coded her for another 15 minutes, but unfortunately, Casey passed away in the emergency department, with her time of death being called at 7:04pm while she was still in v-fib.

The ambu bag was detached from the tracheotomy tube, the chirping, beeping monitors were shut off, and the EKG electrodes were removed from her chest. The remaining equipment was being removed when officer Natalie showed up. “hey trace, hey Steph. How’d our stabbing victim do? Can I get a statement?” Tracy pulled back the curtain to the trauma room to show officer Natalie that basic postmortem care had started on Casey. “damn it. What a shame. I was going through her belongings and it looks like she’s got a husband and a 2 year old at home.” Officer Natalie says, shaking her head, a bit upset over the senseless murder. “did you get the guy that did it?” Tracy asked. “we got him on camera, but nothing yet. Looks like he dumped a knife in one of the dumpsters, so CSI is gonna try to find that and get some prints.” Natalie replied.

At this point, the police are still investigating Casey’s murder. We ask that you keep her and her family in your thoughts and prayers, and respect their privacy at this time.

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thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

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orwellian's a great word for it actually. "appropriate raiments will be provided" is the most disturbing thing in the whole series and i stand by that. this interpretation of heaven has definitely coloured my reading of the show especially how i see the fall so it's cool to see someone who agrees!

hard agree that pure coercion would be a total cop out. it's just that he does seem nervous so i do think he's aware of a certain degree of potential danger. i initially thought the metatron must have let slip an implication somewhere but i much prefer your idea that he suspected something. and well. i've been saying basically since season 2 came out that accepting the offer doesn't equal having completely fallen for it. will come back to that in my thoughts on the whole mess that was that domestic.

the blanket permission to come scream at you is greatly appreciated and i'll definitely make use of it; i love this kind of media dissection and speculation. 🦭

(p.s. i did indeed end up making the chekov's list since my ocd never can leave well enough alone lol. brace yourself: incoming!)

hihi again, 🦭 anon!!!✨

yes!!! in the context of 1984, especially, that line really is ominous; obviously there is a fine line between a corporate uniform and dictated dress, especially as the only scene where we see all of the angels look the same (iirc) is the waiting platoon in s1. otherwise, all of the angels do have individual dress/style (but similar enough to show belonging), even in the job scene, even if certain elements of their designs indicate shared rank or moral alignment... but the implication of subjugation made by clothes being specifically chosen for the prospective mind-wiped gabriel is... interesting.

and of course - aziraphale's outfit is very different to that of the other angels, in it being actual human clothing, and showing unashamed signs of wear and comfort. i remarked in a post that in job especially, his jobes (job robes) are very similar in aesthetic to that of michael and gabriel compared to say muriel's. could be that it's the appropriate dress of a principality rank, but im not... wholly convinced.

anyway, let's get on with your list!!! a herculean effort, truly!!! hope you don't mind, but a) ive copied and pasted it under the cut, because b) id love to use it as a checklist for myself (and of course if anyone else does!) re: things ive talked about, or indeed things that i have Thoughts on... or even things that i haven't thought to talk about and will probably look into doing so in the future!!!✨✨

episode 1:

starting with the big one there's the pre-fall sequence. the fall itself. talked a lot about these two things/the whole theme in general, found under the #the fall/the great war spec tag

maggie's spelling under the #we need to talk about maggie theory tag - babygirl is an angel, im convinced of it

"what's the point of it all" i mean, kinda talked about this in connection with stuff under the #god is dead theory tag, and in a couple of different asks; mainly that god doesn't give two hoots about any of it, and just wanted to give everyone and everything free will - and they have to work out the consequences for themselves (whilst she throws in a few chaotic sprinkles to keep things interesting)

shax's insider information about heaven ive definitely not discussed shax at all really, and i definitely have a few things id like to work out... main one being, for me, how she went from wondering where aziraphale was in ep3, to suddenly knowing how to exactly triangulate his position in ep4 finally talked about her in the #shax meta tag!!!

the demons being on half rations didn't really think to look at this!!! that could be interesting, especially with the short-staffed comment... someone did put to me that bc the apocalypse failed, everyone on earth continues dying and adding to the population of the Damned, so the work vs demon ration is steadily getting outweighed... but hm, could be something more than that!

"something terrible" because are we sure we're sure that that was about the stuff we've already seen you know, i wondered this too after ep6!!! it was a very interesting choice of words for me, bc whilst yes gabriel's fate was looking pretty shit, the line was almost a bit... well, over-announced? they kept repeating it? like, gabriel said he had to bring the box to aziraphale/the bookshop otherwise something terrible would happen... but why specifically the shop? is it just because aziraphale is the only angel/sanctuary on earth? is it because he was drawn to an angel that's also fallen for a demon? is it because aziraphale is simply kind? i don't trust that it's any of these explanations at all (or maybe all of them and another besides)... and tbh i think god has something to do with it. another speculation for the to-do list!!!

the book of life this one ive remarked on a fair bit under the #book of life theory tag, but it's fairly disjointed from other bits and pieces - tbh i probably need to do a long post at some point as to where all my theories etc join up... bc for the moment all of them are full of loopholes

michael and uriel's power politics oooooh i literally don't have a single scooby on this... id have to think on this a little more

the very highlighted matchbox quote this one ive had sat in the drafts for ages bc i can't quite parse it out - where does leviathan come into it? is it a reference to crowley-as-aziraphale spitting fire during the execution? why would it be on a matchbox of a bloody pub? is it a clue from god? is god linked to jim/gabriel somehow? gahd this one is still giving me a headache kinda? wrote about this - here, no tag for this specifically - and im still not fully satisfied that is the meaning of the matchbox but i think (hope) it might be somewhere near the mark?

1650 i speculated (or, well, dreamt up a hc) as to what this potential flashback could entail in a LWA response somewhere - in any case, give me the boys in cromwellian england and give it to me Now

the 25 lazarii miracle my batshit theory (and yet it makes complete sense to me, i stand by it) is in my #25 lazarii theory tag

episode 2:

heaven and hell working together as a single good cop bad cop system this is similarly stagnating in my drafts at the moment!!! but it's a bit of a mindbender for me bc it means i need to pick apart what everything thinks the job/satan bet was actually about... basically, i think it all comes back to understanding god's will - and all of them (yes, even crowley) have it wrong because imo god is completely amoral and is just the strongest advocate for free will... weirdly, i think the person that had the most right of it was gabriel.

"forces them under an awning together" god i hope this happens in s3... i mean there's no way it won't, right? and so many juicy possibilities (for my money itll be the bandstand, but equally would love, like, the stoop of the bookshop, and then have it mirrored again under like the porch of the south downs cottage) 🥺

gabriel's eyes glowing statements this tbh harks back to what i posted under the #25 lazarii theory tag - definitely something weird going on, and i have a gut feeling the boys accidentally made it even worse lmao

tricking heaven with a sleight of hand this is also going to require a bit more thought!!!

episode 3:

aziraphale's chekhov's diaries see im not sure how important i truly think theyre going to be, but if we go by the prominent influence of the crow road, it definitely has to be a s3 plot device, right? the only thing im scared of is that aziraphale's memory gets wiped, or he goes missing, and the books are key to getting back his memory/finding him... hmmm

crowley's consciousness extending into the bentley i think the crank is certainly important, even if just symbolic of his power - uses it to create nebulae, it survived the s1 explosion, etc. i do think bentley has its own kind of personality, but think it's borne out of proximity, use, and influence of her demon owner... obviously i could be entirely wrong, but i kinda hope it's more that he made her, and her allegiance as a sentient being is with him (and of course aziraphale by extension), mainly bc i want something to look after crowley... but then is it more poetic that the bentley is basically just him, and representative of him finding comfort in himself? idk tbh but she's a bad bitch and i love her

general resurrection themes ive talked a fair bit about the second coming aspect, but not about the resurrection and last judgement so much, so this is one for the list

gabriel's glowing eyes statements part 2 as above (and i realise that you might be talking about what he specifically says, not the general thing itself, 🦭 anon, but in a way what is being said is fairly self-explanatory imo, but why is the heftier question)

shax can sense gabriel in a way the archangels couldn't i personally don't think there's much by way of implication in the method in which she senses him (ie... smell? vs michael's weird sixth sense), but i do think there is something about the fact they can sense him at all... talked about in #25 lazarii spec and the #shax meta tag!!!

"it's always too late" oh god 💀 i had the most batshit theory about this that i don't even want to talk about BUT im with you that it's... an odd line. i love that it potentially references line in the book about crowley's watch being set to hell's time, which is set at "too late", but beyond that... not entirely sure why the line was said or said so... blatantly? feels like something obvious would explain it

rumours that aziraphale and crowley were an item that so far don't seem justified based on what hell knew. rumours that apparently had no major consequences for crowley despite one harmless photo warranting a legion to collect him [screams at 1941 truther sign] yeah this is how it read to me too, 🦭! something definitely happened after that dinner, and im not saying a move was made (and potentially witnessed by a couple of errant nazi zombies) but i think a move was made (and witnessed by a couple of errant nazi zombies) - #1941 spec tag

the literal chekhov's gun in the bookshop this one has flummoxed me, but i did read a speculation about continuing the 1941 flashback today, which was utter genius (and so much better than what i managed to dream up in the above tag), and suggested the derringer will make an appearance in a fight-ish scenario in that scene... which is frankly bloody inspired tbh, and im very much convinced by

the miracle blocker oooooh i don't have a dedicated tag for this but i definitely talked about it in a post under the #sanctuary/bentley theory tag!!! i think it was potentially a chekhov's gun that we didn't see get fired

sleight hand to trick hell probably one to look at in hand with the one above about tricking heaven

the zombies just running around london kinda as i said above tbh, not sure what'll happen to them afterwards but presumably a grisly end being eaten and pooped out by a spider

1941 full stop. we have not seen the last of that night. goddamn right we havent [skips around the 1941 truther sign]

episode 5:

the lack of demons available for the attack pretty much what i said above in ep1 about being short staffed bc the Damned population keeps increasing... maybe? still one to look at in more detail though!!!

"i know. do it anyway" "i know. looking at where the furniture isn't" not necessarily in reference to these quotes specifically, but in the general context - discussed this (and potential crowley memory loss) in the #the fall/the great war spec and #book of life theory tags

"if it happens twice it might seem like an institutional problem" oh. OH. THIRD EYE HAS OPENED. because we know two things, right? gabriel didnt fall/wasnt intended to, so the 'happens twice' isn't realised. and heaven does have an institutional problem, practically embodies the term. so if this is foreshadowing. does aziraphale fall. oh no. Oh No (ive sort of discussed this in #scapegoat theory tag but that was strictly pre-eden context...) this however has actually just made me realise that this is a chekhov's gun literally pointed at aziraphale's head... shitshitshitshitshjthka

mrs cheng's weird look across the street see this is on my list but waaaay down it. think she could be a demon. will work on it at some point edit: talked a little bit about this in the #shax meta tag, but possibly needs a dedicated post, idk

nina and maggie's semi immunity to miracles so the bit where aziraphale can't miracle them? that to me is potentially the same explanation as the miracle blocker post (like it all connects). maggie is more immune than normal to the ball miracle? see #we need to talk about maggie theory tag. as for nina... im still not sure on. idk if she's a demon (which for me is a Thought if we consider that hell are short-staffed; she could be one of Many) but it feels a little on the nose... one for the list edit: talked a little bit about nina in the #shax meta tag, but definitely needs a separate post at some point

shax saying the shop isn't an embassy anymore but the demons still unable to get in i didn't think of it from this angle, but i think my theory still stands - under the #sanctuary/bentley theory tag

nina and maggie's immunity to miracles part 2 oh oops - see above

episode 6:

maggie being able to invite the demons into the shop i think she's an angeeeeeeellllll (see #we need to talk about maggie tag)

the speed at which the portal opens and it's potential as a means of spying my latest galaxy brain moment (i hope) - #sanctuary/bentley theory tag

haloes and the potential consequences of blowing them up this one is in the #halo theory tag

crowley opening the files not quite sure what you mean by this one, 🦭!!! do you mean about his rank? definitely tried parsing this particular headscratcher in the #AWCW spec tag

heaven was trying to restart armageddon in a way that seems awfully unofficial oooooohhh.... haven't looked at it this way, but definitely will be!!! might link in with #god is dead theory stuff, but will need more exploring!!!

saraqael having their own agenda honestly saraqael is my newest bad bitch (gn) and if my #saraqael spec is even halfway true, im going to explode i love them

"i'm the only first order archangel in the universe" *camera cuts to crowley* kinda talk about this in the #AWCW spec tag but since neil cremated the lucifer theory (rip) ive kinda left this aspect alone... tbh i don't think he was as important as he's set out to have been

"i'm the only first order archangel in the universe" full stop. statement's plenty suspicious on its own too. this is....... potentially very intriguing

memory wiping as just a thing heaven does when someone disobeys i need to reconcile #book of life theory with this tbh - like, the focus on memory is so strong in s2 that i strongly believe it has connection to falling... at which point, where does gabriel demotion/mem wipe punishment fit in? and where does saraqael fit in, too?

muriel having the same kind of position gabriel was going to be demoted to vaguely looked at this in #book of life theory tag posts i think, especially in reference to how their potential punishments (in muriel's case) mirror each other

heaven and hell are technically at war now. its not like anyone with authority actually called it off danced around this in the #halo theory tag, in reference to aziraphale declaring this new war, and yet they've been at war for a long time? yes the reflection of it being a cold war but still... interesting to think about especially when framed like this

it's possible to remove your essence and store it elsewhere definitely need to explore the possibilities and implications of this at some point, but the suggestion i made in the #25 lazarii theory post somewhat starts to look at this

hell is understaffed as already mentioned above

the shax furfur alliance not quite sure what to think about this, and whether it necessarily means anything more than it's put across (ie just that they are the danger duo of hell in s3?) idk tbh i just need to look at them both as individual characters a bit more first #shax meta tag!!!

the many strange things that could indicate something going on in the last fifteen minutes god.... just anything in the #feral domestic/final fifteen meta tag tbh

"does anyone ever ask for death" idk whether or not to take this as meaning anything deeper than metatron just idly thinking "hmmm aziraphale could refuse my coffee, refuse a chat... at which point ill probably need to destroy him etc. hey, i wonder if anyone - instead of coffee - has ever actually asked for death? funny name for a coffee shop"... and possibly a double meaning meant by Nina saying 'everything else was taken'?

saraqael being the only one other than crowley who recognises the metatron and their reaction well theres my school of thought that saraqael is potentially closer to metatron that we maybe thought (#saraqael spec tag), but then again - and this exact sentence just reminded me - i think in this particular instance, both saraqael and crowley have just come fresh from watching the trial, so that's why they both remember metatron... which begs the question of what happened between the trial and the final fifteen to make them forget? hmmm

almond syrup imo, #omelas theory

the possible miracle chime ehhhh i know i wrote about this but im still like 50/50 on it... but it fits my theory (in the #feral domestic/final fifteen tag) so im rolling with it - i think there might be a chime and i think it might be a failed miracle to change the coffee

the metatron and crowley seeming to have some kind of history lmao anything in #metatron spec or indeed #the fall/the great war spec tags tbh

aziraphale's peculiar mannerisms im getting so lazy with these responses now 🦭 anon im so sorry, but again recently speculated in the #feral domestic/final fifteen meta tag

the way the conversation between aziraphale and the metatron is only reported and very strangely transitioned in and out of as above

the nothing to see here shooting of the kiss this one...

i know ng said it was a continuity error but. the time skip on the clocks ...and this one ive looked at in the #time-stop theory tag, and im the same - not trusting continuity error on this... not just yet

the something's up vibes of metatron. the general scheming and manipulativeness. the framing as the wizard of oz. the colour scheme and the dice on his tie. the sigh of relief in the elevator lol #metatron spec

the credits scene i haven't really gone into this in any detail and tbh idk if it needs it - i think it's pretty reflective of some stuff ive talked about in the #aziraphale meta and the #feral domestic/final fifteen meta tags

plus special mention: not technically in the episode but the distinctly ominous madonna/crucifixion promo photos aaaaaaaand this one is in the #mary/pieta spec tag

again 🦭 anon im really sorry it got a little lazy towards the end!!! but im very, very grateful that you put this all in a list, because ive definitely got some stuff in mind that id like to parse out!!! and as ever - more than happy to scream about things so pop on back if you feel the need to scream with me!!!✨

#VERY long post but its so so so helpful #good omens #ask #in fact this is gonna go in the masterpost

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