#also it’s in here somewhere but i guess i should say my stupid little theory here now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-queenoftrash · 11 months

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Alright I’m gonna try something

Milly’s Raincode Playthrough Post

New to Tumblr so idk this will work but I’m gonna try to keep editing/updating this post as I play through Raincode with my thoughts and stuff. Full spoilers for the game but I’ll mark stuff as I go along. If this works out I’ll do it for other media i experience too! Feel free to check back occasionally as I update this post.

So I think that barrier means now you have to actively click through to read so I should be able to start typing spoils now.

Chapter 0 -

This one’ll be a bit different since I already completed it by the time of typing this but I enjoyed this chapter! It’s been a while since I’ve played danganronpa or watched akudama drive so I forgot how,, unhinged Kodaka was. I also didn’t really follow the marketing material so I thought we were legitimately being introduced to the main cast LOL. Melami’s design was really cute… Yuma and Shinigami’s relationship reminds me of Ryuki and Tama’s from AINI, so that’s to say I enjoyed them.

When first broke into the infirmary I felt like there was some fuckery going on cause the body burned too quickly but I thought that was just a suspense of disbelief moment… I was expecting a simple first case so I was actually tricked. The cart switch was kinda a weird plot point but I didn’t feel cheated tbh.

I enjoyed the gameplay of the labyrinth but it felt a little lonely compared to the class trials. Not gonna hold this against the game yet though cause I know later on other character’s will join you.

Game’ll be fun if it keeps this up!

Prologue -

Now I’m gonna be kinda writing down my thoughts as I go along.

Escaping Kaiji Tang is impossible holy shit

Why do they make him play all the hot characters

I remember Kodaka saying somewhere once he liked writing delinquents/outcasts because they were more interesting, so it’s interesting to see even in a detective game he tried to make that the case

Hm, so there’s gotta be something about the rain. They’re bringing it up so it’s not just an aesthetic thing. Probably some mind control virus or some shit..

Love the city’s aesthetic

RINDO TWEWY?????

Non-binary,,,,, so real

I recognize this girls VA… I know what you are……. But who… OH ITS HARU THATS WHY

THEIR NAME IS NIGHTMARE?????? So real

Luke from Streets??? Damn how did the dub department have this much budget LOL

Yakou,, babygirl,, don’t give up all hope, I am here…

Fubuki is so real tbh I don’t remember anything

Yuma’s gonna unlock an insane forte in the final act isn’t he

Also this music is going crazy btw super chill

The ultimate secret… the 16th detective… lying hidden somewhere in this rain..

Interesting that this game seems to directly follow up Damganronpa V3’s themes of truth vs lies

The end of this game is gonna dumb as hell I can’t wait. Great global mystery? Fuck that’s gonna be so stupid I can’t wait.

Alright that’s the prologue done. Like the characters so far but I’m interested in how the chapters are gonna be set up since this set up doesn’t feel like it fits a ton of individual murders? Idk. We’ll see I guess.

Chapter 1 -

Hm so something to do with voodoo dolls… off the bat I’m guessing whoever the killer is, is associated with Amaterasu and will try to pin the killings on some religious fate or something

Weird that they’re just staying in a hotel when what is basically the government obviously wants them dead LOL

Yakou just let him cook you don’t see the vision of his dish

What if number one is dead and that’s what shinigami knows about him!!!

Cloaked figure that’s the same height as Yuma (short baby man) hm not suspicious at all definitely no time travel twin weirdness happening

Vivia is such an odd little man I like him

Hm the book he’s reading feels like it’s gonna parallel either one of the chapters or the whole game hm… someone who was already dead, making someone come back day by day to do the same thing… number one is dead theory is going WILD

Nail man sounds like a really stupid super hero/villain that flopped after a single issue. Couldn’t stack up to Big Wheel from spider man

SHINIGAMI WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

These load times are ROUGH man

I love that they made the gremlin mascot character that Monokuma was into our ally this time

The peace keepers definitely planted the hammer on the guy they arrested or something

Oh the save icon is halara I wonder who our partner is gonna be

HALARA GO ENBY GOOOO

Damn Halara you can’t just extort a kid like that

Shinigami even if you can’t create money just go like!! Steal it idk girl!!

Surprised the peacekeepers even keep track of the cases

Only the info in the report can be sent to the media so they aren’t just playing dumb, they do know more. Does the nail man work for them?

Danganronpa ⁉️

This killer is extra. You strangle them and then do a big mystery box with nails? Ok bro.

Yuma the culprit literally had a rope how do you think he got down

Alright that’s the first investigation I guess. Is there gonna be more victims or something or is this all we have to work with?

They weren’t walking through the wall they had a fucking rope!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was !! A fucking rope!!!

Seth bring do quiet he needs a megaphone is just like me fr

We’re gonna enter the mystery labyrinth right as the execution starts aren’t we? Is that gonna be a running theme of only using it at the last minute?

Kodaka please make Halara an enby like I heard pre launch instead of a gender reveal plot twist please I wanna like this game I’m begging you kodaka please please I do not trust you

Ah so are these priests our culprit list? Well before taking to them I’m gonna call out the big one.

The nun is way too sus to be the culprit. Saying you’re with the peace keepers? Nuh uh.

Alright so it’s definitely the Servernt or Worshipper I think. I’m leaning towards Servant.

Does Halara’s forte have to do with the intel they gathered and hope they were waiting?

Oh nvm they just told us LOL

That’s a convenient forte lmao

Hm specifying that only a thin person could get through the vent ok so that leaves out the servant since the game was literally making jokes about him being fat

Yknow, respect to the killer for valuing aesthetics lol

Glad they kept the pink blood

Hm so our partner just forgets about the case when they come into the labyrinth? I guess that makes sense since the others are more skilled than us

Halara is so nonchalant lmao

BUSH SETH!!! No wonder he shows up at a tower

Yuma not understanding the concept of ropes is stupid bro!!! I get it but!!!

That nun looking super sussy idk they wouldn’t make it that obvious but

This mansion got me stumped

Nah that throw definitely took the killer a few times 💀💀💀

Hm maybe the third locked room was a copycat cause Halara calls it amateurish and it doesn’t bring us any closers…

Bluffing? That’s how you get false confessions too Halara

Hm phantom Seth is still alive though, there’s more here

IT WAS A COPYCAT I WAS RIGHT

It’s obviously not the kid but I’m trying anyway

Shit

Hm maybe it was the servant since we were most clearly thrown off his trail before. If that doesn’t work than I guess the nun.

Oh by having info it meant the worshipper oopsie

Shinigami you can just possess bodies LOL at least make the confession convincing

Hellsmile is a hell of a last name. Heh. Hell.

I wonder what the point of saving us from Seth is, not like that helps them in any way

HOW DOES THIS KID KNOW ABOUT THE SUB???

Awwwww that’s so cute

Well I guess that’s Chapter 1! I’m liking the game so far but I hope cases get a bit more personal. Danganronpa made things super personal by making the cases about characters you’ve spent hours learning about and ace attorney lets you meet the chapters cast for a while before any dramatics. Raincode hasn’t really offered that in this chapter (it kinda did in ch0 by introducing a fake cast).

Anyway onto ch2!

Chapter 2 -

This Desuhiko dude is kinda annoying ngl

Oh he’s gonna be a murderer in a future chapter isnt he? There’s no way they don’t use his power for the mystery and just have it during investigation

Yakou you are never getting that food

Secret research? Oh god this is gonna get wacky at the end

Shinigami when she sees a teen who doesn’t have boobs touching the floor (ugly)

“The peacekeepers were eager to take the body” and “secret research” oh fuck no Nuh uh no way

I am going to kill desuhiko i think

Stab burn murder kill stabby stab explode rip tear

I’m not prepared to have 50% of this chapter’s cast be completely annoying

Yuma just like me no way

First impressions is the honor student is the killer

Oh I just realized we’re gonna have to kill a high schooler oh

Yuma so skilled his fem voice doesn’t even have to exist‼️

I’m gonna be real I’m not absorbing any of this play

Oh girl’s fucking dead ok

Could Kurumi be the killer somehow????

Well I was excited to have a connection to the chapter’s mystery as a partner but if she’s being arrested there goes that idea

Everyone thinks Yoshiko did it so it can’t be her

SOMEONE KILL THIS GREMLIN MAN DESUHIKO I HATE HIMMMMM

Martina?? Imposter????? Like??? Among!??? Us???

That’s a lot of mystery phantoms goddamn

I have genuinely no clue who the culprit may be

atp I think all these girls are just haters and did it together

Ok yeah

Oh so they did it as revenge…

Shinigami you don’t *have* to do them like that yknow

The homunculus is gonna be made of the corpses isn’t it fuck off Nuh uh no way girl I am not sleeping if I see that thing

Oh is Kurumi gonna be a reoccurring character now?

Vivia sus as hell he’s definitely got his own death god or something

So Yomi believes in his justice it’s just his justice is fucked up that makes more sense

Martina get the FUCK out of there

WHAT

…

And that’s chapter 2! The game is just getting better and better so far, really enjoying it.

Chapter 3 -

Masked man?? Mother 3?? Real?.

So, Makoto is definitely clone Yuma or something crazy like that

I hope he’s not evil I like this fucked up little rat

Yeahhhhh Yuma and Makoto are related I’m just that good a detective

Local kid(?) gets kidnapped twice in a row, wins record

Given the posters I’m assuming these are some sort of rebels

Oh please tell me they didn’t actually kill the agency before a Fubuki chapter……

Whatever this chapter’s case is, one of these people is the killer. I’m saying the old man.

Idk why we have to run this guy seems fine even if his comrades are way too trigger happy

Making the enemies of a game about murders and a death god supposedly “immortal” is interesting

Ohh what if a culprit is immortal and we can’t destroy their labyrinth because of it

FUBUKI!!!!!!!!!! <3 she’s,,,, just like me,,, fr,,

I love kindhearted dummys. Galo, Milly, Fubuki, Kronk. My beloveds.

FUBUKI THEY CALL YOU WHAT??? GIRLIE?????

NOOO THE REBELS WERE NEEDLESS TERRORISTS 😔😔😔😔

blow up ameterasu buildings not schools!!! Or make sure no civilians are around!!!!

What is the point of this being a game this serves no one

Girl can TIME TRAVEL???? Huhhhh????

Shachi’s gonna be dead when we get to roof won’t he

Yuuuup

My guess is this was a coordinated effort by everyone else since they thought he was holding them back

I did not understand that 2nd bomb puzzle but I got it so ok

The resistance wasn’t blowing up random civilians instead of peacekeepers we won (unless this old guy’s completely bullshitting)

I wish you could use forte’s in the labyrinth I feel like it’d make for a lot of unique scenarios

Girl who jumped on a moving vehicle earlier: “I’m bad at jumping”

If this was a suicide who would die at the end of the dungeon? Would he come back to life?

I’m not even gonna lie all of this for a bank robbery is kinda fucking stupid very solid case of chapter 3 syndrome let’s fucking goo

At least Fubuki carried

KODAKA AFTER V3 YOU CANT HAVE VIVIA CASUALLY BREAK THE 4TH WALL

Sooooo we did all of that for nothing this truly is a case 3 syndrome moment

Shinigami recognizes Vivia he definitely used to be her master…. But isn’t she with us until death…. Wait is he a homunculus?

WAIT A FUCKING SECOND DOES HE SAY I WANNA DIE ONE DAY CAUSE HE CANT CAUSE HES AN IMMORTAL HOMUNCULUS

MAKOTO IS WHAT

What was he cooking

Nah I do NOT trust this submarine

I’m gonna let Vivia cook here

Alright that’s chapter 3. I was so with this chapter right up until the end where it kinda fell apart. Oh well. Gotta have case 3 syndrome or it wouldn’t be a true danganronpa successor. Anyway, I’m assuming we learn about Vivia next… hope I’m right about him being a homunculus

Chapter 4-

Kurumi wouldn’t an area Amaterasu not want you to go to be an opportune place for secrets

Corpse disposal… to be made into experiments…

Makoto is so funny he’s just here he’s just a smelly little rat man

I feel like Makoto is gonna be the murder victim here with him hyping up how Yuma is gonna die in the lab but obviously that won’t happen

The intruder is probably Vivia isn’t it

Is Vivia one of the hitmen hired to stop the WDO?

That short peacekeeper is desuhiko isn’t it

Yeah

NONO NO NO DONT TELL ME THE CHIEF IS DEADN NO INONONONONO

FUCK

I’m about to hire a hitman for the hitman fuck you Fink

Shinigami is having us remember all these forte’s and the chapter is about an “insider” god it’s one of the detectives isn’t it

Rip vivia is a homunculus theory

GODDAMN PHANTOM YOMI GOES HARD

This mystery labyrinth is fucking with my head I got no idea what’s going on

Oh wait if the doctor was escaping then he just faked his death, got caught by Yakou, killed him, and then fucked off. That’s why the hooded man had a lab coat. I think I solved it on the “motive” side route I’m just that good.

He would need a body double though I guess….

I like how twisty this mystery labyrinth is getting

So if the culprit is dead.. then yakou…

Hey why is the blood on Yakou’s design red when it’s supposed to be pink? At least I think? That’s supposed to be blood??

Oh shit there’s more?

I hate how solving the mystery labyrinth basically does nothing for us and we’re always just bailed out anyway. I guess that’s the point? Knowing the truth is enough? But in the past we’ve lied about why they died.

Is my memory failing or Martina more pale…. Homunculus……….

Why would they hide a man that important in an HQ

Well that’s chapter 4! Really really good chapter. Kept me wondering and I was kinda thrown off by Fink looking like the Dr lol. This was for sure the best mystery labyrinth as well, super twisty and confusing and the death matches were way more intense. Cant wait to solve this mystery in…

Chapter 5 -

Alright now we get into the monster corpse homunculus stuff

WHAT THE GIRLS FROM SCHOOL FUCK

I knew we’d probably get a homunculus of dead characters but I didn’t expect straight up zombies of them

Wait WaitWAITWIARIRIWIAISIT

THE MEATBUNS OH GOD

What the FUCK

FUCK ARE WE GONNA GET CH0’D AGAIN FUCKFUCK FUCK I NEVER THOUGHT ID BE SO SAD TO SEE DESUHIKO’S CORPSE

I’m trying to figure out who this announcer is. It doesn’t sound like number one but…

YO CHAPTER 0 CHARACTERS I FORGOT ABOUT THEM

Man this is fucked up

The void century? Nah the blank century mystery.

What is the “Unified Government” needing military force for, they’re unified 💀

NOT ZOMBIE YAKOU 😭

Oh it’s makoto… maybe he can see shinigami cause hes us

Is the escaped homunculus Makoto/us

Yup the meatbuns are…

Wow it’s weird seeing the city in full sunlight lol

I fully expect makoto to fake being frozen in time

YEAAAAHHHHH HARD READ

Damn this is a pretty labyrinth

EVERYONE???

THE PINK BLOOD IS A PLOT POINT??????????????????? WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD ARE YOU KIDDING HOLY SHIT????????????

Oh my fucking god

AND NOW WE HAVE A DUEL WITH MAKOTO DAMN???

OH HE’S HERE CAUSE WE TOOK HIS HAND OH MY GOD

MAKOTO IS US I FUCKING KNEW IT

So was the old number one just a figurehead?

OH THATS WHY THE RANDOM RAMEN GUY KEPT GETTING FOCUSED ON

OH AND HE RUNS A FOOD STAND CAUSE HE CAN COOK

This ending is kinda peak

Gonna keep going through the epilogue like this

I like seeing the kanai culture after this

What how are they alive??? Are they homunculus?

Makoto what the fuck what was the point of that

#raincode #master detective archives: rain code #danganronpa #kazutaka kodaka #idk I should come up with a tag for these probably

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separatist-apologist · 3 years

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Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

#lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra meta #anti e*riel #antiv*ssien #anti el/riel #anti v/ssien #theories that are just not based in reality #but are probably interesting twists in a fanfic i wouldn't read

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holographicang3l · 3 years

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My hot take on the Evangelion 3.0+1.0 movie

-40 mins of shinji crying, trying to get over the trauma seeing Kaworus head explode and splatter across the window is relatable.

- Mari confused the fuck out of me. Her existence didn't make much sense but ok. Too much boob shots, too much fan service.

- Asukas story was good. Liked that she's also a Type series like Rei. Too much fanserves. They put a shit ton of detail on her naked body. I hated it.

- the Angel concept of Asuka was cool though it was predictable.

- So little of Ritsuko and Misato. Little to no personality.

- Kaji probably controlled Mark 6 to cut off Liliths head to stop the impact. (theory / headcanon / could have been kaworu as well but damn)

- hated that everyone was blaming shinji even tho he saved everyone at the same time. Ungreatful people, trying to blame a kid for ALLL the mess is pretty messed up.

- Kaworu and Asukas soul piloting Eva 13 lmao (I assume at least that's the case)

- I was laughing so ugly about the animation fo 3d Rei. Didn't give me the creeps, I was just making fun of it.

- some scenes are quiet awkwardly cut.

-I HATED the 3d fight between Eva 13 and Eva 1. It felt unfinished and unpolished.

- I did like the trueman show style of backdrop in the fight, where Eva 01 slammed through the scene wall.

- funny headless mannequin flying hand in hand 3d style. Looked ugly af but I can see the artistics in it.

- Weird but, the voice of Fuyutsuki sounded off, as if it was wrongly recorded. Maybe it was just me.

- "The key of Nebukadnezar ITS FULL CYCLE BOYS" urgh.

- Shinji putting the fucking dss choker on like the Chad he is.

- finally got in the fucking robot. What a huge Chad.

-crying kaworu was nice. Made him more human.

- didn't see it as if Shinji thinks Kaworu as his father figure, Idk how people can interpret that shit. They just come off as similar. Just because I see someone similar to a family member doesn't mean that I see them as a father or mother figure yall just interpret what you want to.

- Timeloop theory confirmed, we did it boys, depression is no more.

- it felt like a shit ton of things got cut off due to the awkward pacing, dialouge and some scenes.

- Ryo-chan I can't fucking-

- Commander Nagisa ✨ It was all an elaborate plan. Kaworu probably developed the Anti L- barrier thing or at least helped. (headcanon)

- Kaji was like father to me (probably kaworu somehow)

- melon farmer Kaworu confirmed

- Adult shinji, bantering with Mari.

-don't like the boob thing tho.

- hated the fan service. Loaded like a baked potato.

-Rei was fucking cute

- I would die for her.

- Fuck gendou

-I will not sympathies with a fucking egomaniac.

- dude fucked humanity bcs he couldn't accept the death of his wife.

- super obsessed.

-what a moron. I swear.

- Gendo hugging Shinji was cute tho.

- can't accept his apology tho, still asshole, can go rot in hell.

- All parents are assholes in Eva except Touji and Hikari.

-Tsubume and Rei fucking cute I swear.

- Kensuke is the ultimate winner, he looks handsome. Would fuck

- Rei and the farmer woman were cute, I want more content.

- End scene was stupid.

- the ending in general was good tho.

- felt bitter sweet but also satisfying.

- One LAST kiss slaps

- What if?: orchestra, piano slapped my soul into the Anti universe and now I'm sitting on the Golgatha object, ready to find Kaworu.

- I wanted them to be all happy.

-hopefully they are.

- Mari and Shinji probably endgame

- probably just friends tho, I mean come on.

-kawoshinners are crying.

- Kaworu going to super hell (predicted, it's all full cycle kids, go home)

MORE STUFF!!

- Maria Iskariot?! I mean what (yeah I know what the innuation is here but still)

- Asuka is a clone, guess Langley was the Original but died and the Shikinami series was deployed Idk, I'm not anno.

- Fucking technoblabble and pseudo-philosophy

- my brain melted trying to understand half of the bs that was spoken about

- I like Ryoji Kaji Jr. He's cute. I want 500 fanfics of him being a cute gardener and being best friends with kaworu (please im in pain help me)

- Parallels between Gendou and Ritsuko shooting at each other *chefs kiss*

- the detail in the scenery was just amazing.

- I'm a headless wandering Eva (no thoughts head empty)

- I missed the mass production Eva's (way cooler though I really liked the skull Eva's as well)

- give me a 14 years before prequel or give me death (probably gonna die before it comes out)

- I swear I was so sad when doppelganger Rei busted into Fanta, best development of Rei ngl

- I can not stop my anger with Gendou I swear.

-I don't care how he's written Gendo/ Gendou/Gendoh, all versions are assholes

- That L barrier thing in Asukas eye was the most painful thing to watch. Body gore Asuka as always.

- NEON GENESIS

- "I'll come and get you Shinji" SHUT UP

- The self insert story was funny tho ngl

- That hair flip was fabulous

- KaWoRu AnD rEi aRe StAnDinG in ClOsE pRoXiMiTy ThEy mUsT bE tOgEtHeR (what the fuck, can't people have normal friends from the other gender? )

- ShInJi aNd MaRi hElD hAnDs ThEy mUsT bE tOgEThEr (what the fuck, can't friends of the other gender hold hands? Does that mean I'm dating my best friend for holding his hand?! MAKE SENSE PEOPLE)

- UwU Asushin is Canon UwU (In the past maybe, was a huge cockblock from anno here, go cry in a corner and read your top rated evageek hentai manga of Asuka x Shinji Jesus christ (don't slaughter me) )

- God is dead after the stunt Gendou pulled and Kawoshin is (no) more (lmao no but yes but no, don't slaughter me)

- UNIT8 be like: "you're talking mad shit for someone being in consuming range" and proceeds to eat all the units (vore is strong in this one)

- Eva 13 and Eva 1 hugging (and penetrating) best shit I've seen

- Maris scream for Asuka was painful. It ripped my heart in pieces.

- Angel Unit2 was too short. I want more of that.

-That tiny Kaworu in the background while Angel Asuka absorbs Shikinami (I don't know fam, the movie is confusing)

- I read somewhere that Headless kaworu corpse playing the piano in the entry plug was cut off from the script and Im not sure if that is true but I would have LOVED TO SEE IT

- Eva 3.0+1.0 was annos huge middle finger to all of Evangelion and I love it.

- tells us to grow up and stop hyperfocusing at the characters proceeds to make them as sexual as possible lmfaooo

- That Lance of WILLE thing looks like something out of Darling in the FRANXX series and I laughed so hard.

- YUI Yui YUI YUI Yui Yui YUI

- there you are YUI?!

- Mom was in me (I want to die)

- Gonna use plot device shit to make a Lance out of a spine (damn shinji obtained a backbone to defeat his deadbeat father, I would have never seen this coming *irony*)

- Gotta defeat your dad with the power of friendship TALKING (like any human being does)

- Anno says byebye (proceeds to think of 14 years past prequel, it makes money so I guess)

- Anno says grow up, proceeds to slap the fans in the face that you should stop using escapism as a coping mechanism in a world that makes you feel miserable and being in constant pressure to uphold a stupid image and start to live even though you're forced to work as much as possible with makes living hard af (I dotn know if you understand what I was trying to tell with this but if you do *Finger guns*)

- Give me the uncut version in a year or I riot

Thanks.

#evangelion #Spoilers #evangelion 3.0+1.0 #SPOILERS

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Ian Malcolm

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(When I tell you I love this man.)

- You and Ian meet when you attend the same STEM related conference; though it would be more accurate to say that you met while you attended a conference that he was lecturing at.

- Nevertheless, you were both in the same room and wound up interfacing before the meeting was over; an interaction that would lead to a very interesting and at times exasperating relationship.

- You found him fascinating; just like pretty much everyone else in the crowd, someone who had a big, entertaining personality in a field that so often lacked personality. You liked him the minute he opened his mouth.

- He, in turn, thought that you were gorgeous and found himself falling for you the minute he locked eyes on you. He was looking forward to the moment he could slink off stage and find a way to talk to you. He did so right after he finished his speech and the applause settled down.

- He artfully found his way through the crowd and managed to convince the person beside you to switch their seat, taking it for himself after the starry eyed boy got up.

- The two of you sat in silence for a little while before he leaned over and introduced himself, shaking your hand for a lingering moment before you both turned your attention back to the stage.

- Another beat of silence passed between you before he leaned over and murmured a funny comment to you, reveling in the way you tried to hold back your smile. You spent the rest of the meeting trying to stifle your laughter as your new ironic commentator continued his jokes and flirtation. It certainly made the conference more enjoyable.

- Once the shows over and everyone begins to clear out, he asks if you’re doing anything before asking if you’d like to go out and grab a couple of drinks or talk someplace.

- That's how you find yourself seated next to him at the bar of a nice little restaurant, listening to him explain the chaos theory in detail and trying your best to digest everything that he’s saying; along with your drinks.

- Along with his mathematical explanations, he also provides a lot of compliments and flirtation. You spend the evening feeling like the most important and sought after woman in the world

- Since you could easily; and very accurately, consider that little get together to be your first date, let’s move on to your first kiss.

- It’s a date or two later that the two of you share it. You don’t want to give in too easily; even if you want to kiss him a lot sooner, so you play coy until you cant take it any more and the moment feels perfectly right.

- Perfectly right seems to mean the middle of your kitchen after you invited him in for some coffee but hey, to each their own.

- Nevertheless, you’d invited him into your home after one of your dates and gone to your kitchen to get the two of you your drinks. He’d followed you in and when you handed him his cup of coffee, he’d leaned in, pressed his lips to yours and given you a soft kiss.

- When he pulled away, he smiled at you, raised his mug, and gave you a somewhat teasing thank you before he lead the way into your living room.

- One mug lead to another and you've been staying up late with each other ever since.

- Ian suffers from a deplorable need to constantly be touching you. On top of that, he really isn’t too preoccupied with how other people feel so Pda is very common and performed very shamelessly.

- His arm is usually wrapped around you in some way, whether it be draped across the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders, or haphazardly thrown in front of you while a T. Rex is charging towards you.

- Tight hugs; which usually means that you’re being somewhat picked up since he’s so goddamn tall.

- Having your hair played with; oftentimes while he uses his flirtation on you.

- Knee squeezes. His hand belongs to your knee whenever he can’t wrap his arm around you.

- He loves cheek kisses. He loves the sort of showing off feel of them whenever you’re in front of someone else; and he just loves how soft and sweet they are.

- Slow, passionate kisses.

- Oftentimes, you wind up sleeping in the crook of his arm; usually with your head resting against his chest. That being said, the two of you also just cuddle haphazardly, snuggling in any which way you can, your limbs entangled and your bodies relaxed.

- He tends to call you honey or baby but, considering the fact that he calls his daughter Queen, my goddess and my inspiration, there’s room for a few more over dramatic pet names in your relationship.

- Waking up together. Ian's a math professor so, depending on both your schedules, you’re usually getting up around the same time. Although, if you get up earlier than he has to, he’d definitely; somewhat begrudgingly, adapt to your schedule.

- The two of you are attached at the hip a lot of the time. If you choose to go somewhere, he’s bound to follow; whether that be to keep you safe or just because he enjoys spending time with you is anyone’s guess.

- Working on separate things while you’re together. Sometimes couples just want to be in the same room while they do their own thing and I think that’s beautiful.

- Going shopping together. He’s a fan of clothes shopping, groceries, not so much.

- He likes trying out new things and going to all those different places that pop up in town so the two of you visit a lot of new restaurants and shops.

- Going out to dinner at nice restaurants. He’s the Rockstar of the math community so of course he’d want to take you to a few high end places; whenever he could afford it that is.

- Traveling around the world together. Whenever he has to go somewhere, he likes taking you with him.

- Being in the crowds of his conferences and public appearances. You like cheering him on and he appreciates the fact that you’re always there for him; even if he doesn’t necessarily need the support.

- Ian isn’t the greatest at keeping his word and he can get really caught up in his work to the point where he forgets important things, but he does always try his best to make things up to you whenever he can.

- Becoming close with Kelly. She enjoys living with you when her mother can’t be bothered and Ian’s bogged down by work. He loves both his girls dearly so the fact that you get along with each other is very important to him.

- You get to use the fact that you’re with Kelly as an excuse to go do stupid and somewhat childish things like visiting arcades and county fairs. Not that you couldn’t do that without her but I think you know what I mean.

- Movie nights; usually with him and Kelly.

- Museum dates.

- He genuinely thinks that your weird interests and quirks are endearing and fascinating. Other people would consider them strange, Ian considers them to be a compelling part of your personality.

- Seeing you talk about things that you’re passionate about is one of his favorite things in the world. He thinks that drive to learn and do and the intelligence that you possess is extremely sexy.

- Sometimes he’ll just look at you like he wants to eat you alive and it’s extremely problematic. Sir, we are in public.

- Lots of flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, he still enjoys making you flustered and treating you like the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

- Unnecessary and frankly disrespectful noises. If he doesn’t stop making salacious growls at you, you’re gonna have to act up.

- Letting him explain all his different theories and findings to you. He loves showing off and having your undivided attention.

- Breaking rules together. If you aren’t keen on doing so, he’d definitely tease you for being a goody goody.

- He carries around a flask most of the time so the two of you can always just park somewhere and drink together whenever you feel like. Some of your best memories take place in his car, passing around a little metal container and talking about nothing in particular.

- Sarcasm drips from this mans every pore so you should try to get used to it. As annoying as it can be, it does make for some funny comments here and there.

- Snarky comments; whether they’re directed at you or someone else. Ian can be a bit of a bastard so don’t be surprised when his mouth opens and something mocking comes out. Just be prepared to occasionally slap his arm and stop him from being a total ass to people; even if it’s justified.

- Corny little jokes.

- Trying to keep him from verbally destroying people. He’s very verbal about his opinions so chances are, he’s going to speak his mind at one point or another and you might not want to be there when he does.

- He’s a voice of reason for just about everyone on Earth so if you need someone to tell you when you’re being stupid, he’s perfect for you.

- Sticking with him and being there for him after everything happens. He changes very drastically in the following years after meeting Mr. Hammond but you love him no less.

- No matter what people may think of him, you still defend him and proudly stand by his side. You’ve learned to ignore the opinion of others and not entertain their gossip.

- Helping him deal with the trauma that comes with almost getting fucking eaten.

- Ian doesn’t get jealous very often. He’s secure enough in himself and knows that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but every now and again, if you’re particularly close to like a colleague or something, he’ll show some signs of jealousy. Mainly, he’ll just ask a bunch of questions about them and your relationship; all the while trying to play it off as normal curiosity.

- Ian is incredibly protective of you; particularly after the events of Jurassic park. He’s willing to do whatever he can to keep you safe; even if it means endangering himself or doing something that scares the hell out of him.

- The two of you don’t fight extremely often; and you rarely have very serious fights, but you do have an argument from time to time. He may say something sarcastic or hurtful in the heat of the moment on occasion but he never means it and he always immediately apologizes.

- Very few fights last overnight. He’s usually so quick to apologize and try to sort things out that you’re back on track in no time. Under his egotistical shell, he’s really just a big softie who wants things to be alright between the two of you.

- He tells you that he loves you a perfectly average amount of times; not too much and not too little. And he loves hearing you say it back or just tell him that you love him for no real reason.

- Ian legitimately loves kids. Like he’s fully prepared to get married and start a family with you at any given moment. Believe me, you just say the words and he’ll pop the question.

#ian malcolm imagine #ian malcolm imagines #ian malcolm headcanons #ian malcolm headcanon #jurassic park imagine #jurassic park imagines #jurassic park headcanons #jurassic park headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

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peachhcs · 4 years

Text

Love Languages

Pairings Luke Patterson x reader

Summary Luke asks the reader what love languages are.

Warnings none but fluff :)

Word Count 1.8k (short I know but I'm working on it)

I haven’t really written on Tumblr before so don’t judge too harshly because there’s some insanely talented people on here who might judge hahaha. (hopefully not though) I don't know what the boy’s love languages are so I kind of just assumed based off of what we saw but I did see somewhere that someone said Luke’s was touch so I just went with it.

Gif is not mine so credit to the owner! I don’t know if anyone has done this idea before but I kind of like it because it popped into my head last night. Anyways, enjoy!! :) p.s. I sort of left this on a cliff hanger but idk if i’m going to continue it or not hahaha

PART 2

* * *

You were seated peacefully on the couch as you worked away on your laptop while listening to Julie and the guys practice a few songs for this weekend’s upcoming gig. You always loved listening to them practice, they sounded like absolute angels and you would never get tired of listening to them. However, Luke thought you should be doing your homework somewhere else because he didn’t want them to be distracting to you but truthfully, you really didn’t mind. If you were being honest, it actually helped you focus and the music didn’t let your brain wander.

You glanced up at the group after realizing they had stopped playing. Julie met your eyes with a warm smile, already reading your mind,

“We’re just taking a break. I got to catch up on some homework.” Julie explained to her best friend. You nodded in response, smiling slightly as she went back to work. The boys were talking amongst themselves over by the piano, using hushed voices so whatever they were talking about you or Julie couldn’t hear.

By some weird magical notion, you were able to see the boys even when they weren’t playing like Julie could. They haven’t been able to figure out why yet, though. Why you could see the guys but their other best friend, Flynn, couldn’t. Or why Luke’s parents couldn’t see him either but you still could. It was all just one big mystery they were all still unravelling. They had a theory that it had something to do with their unfinished business and the connections they all shared with one another, but that was yet to be explored with you and the boys. Julie and the boys sort of figured out how they were connected, but they hadn’t gotten that far with you yet.

Julie made an attempt one time to suggest that maybe it was because you were so close with Luke ever since you guys met, the connection just helped you see all of them, but you chose to deny that theory. Especially when Julie threw the word feelings into the mix. Julie knew all too well about your “little”crush on the lead guitarist. There was no doubt that she caught on to it right away when the pair first met and hit off right away. From there, she proceeded to question you about it once they went back to her room. Of course you denied, denied, denied, but after awhile you finally gave in and agreed to your best friend’s observation. Julie saw all the looks that you two exchanged and she knew very well about the boys talking about you here and there. It was just a matter of time until one of you finally broke and admitted your stupid feelings for one another.

“Hey..Y/n?” The cautious voice made you glance up from your computer, first looking at Julie thinking it was her who called your name but then turning your head to the boys who were glancing at you with quizzical looks.

“Yeah?” You ask glancing at Luke since he was the one who spoke up. You watch as the boys exchange a glance with one another and you push your eyebrow up in confusion. You meet eyes with Julie for a moment who was now looking between the boys and you just as confused as you were.

“We have a question.”

“Well, Luke does, but we’re curious too.” Alex cut in before you could respond. You chuckle slightly at their visible nervousness about what they wanted to ask.

“Okay, shoot.” You gave them your full attention, pushing your computer screen down and a small smile sat content on your lips. Julie also gave them her full attention too, because she was equally as curious as to what they could possibly be asking you.

“What..what does love languages mean? We heard you and Julie talking about it yesterday..” Luke’s asks softly. Oh. That was what they were asking..Your face goes a little red at the thought of them hearing your conversation yesterday since it started out as band schedule and then led into your crush per usual. You glanced to Julie for help who only shook her head with a quick shrug.

“They asked you, not me. Take it away, sister.” Julie laughed and your face went even redder. It wasn’t an inappropriate question or anything, you just didn’t really know how to describe it. Or because it meant talking about feelings and relationships which was something you didn't really want to get into with them, especially Luke.

“Uhh.. well.. I guess it’s a certain way somebody likes to express their love for someone. There’s different types of love languages like um, touch, words, gifts, spending time with that person, and doing nice things I guess..” You trail off slightly while scratching the back of your head, feeling a little flustered.

“What do you think my love language is?” Alex asks excitedly, not really to you but just to anyone who would answer him.

“I see yours being affirming words or something like spending time with them. You always love it when someone compliments you and reassures you if you’re having too much anxiety about something.” Julie cuts in with a smile and Alex points to her to say she was correct. Julie chuckles and you do too.

“Reggie, yours would definitely be gifts or like spending time with people. You always like to hang around Ray and stuff.” You say glancing at Reggie who smiles warmly at your statement.

“What about me?” You met eyes with Luke who was softly looking at you. You avoided Julie’s burning gaze into your head and Alex and Reggie’s small smirks as they waited for you to answer. You flushed again, looking to Julie for help who only shrugged. They both knew you knew the answer, that was what you guys had been talking about yesterday.

“I’m..I’m not really sure..” You lied and you hated the small hint of disappointment in Luke’s eyes. You quickly looked away and started to reopen your laptop.

“Hey, I’m hungry, I’m gonna grab some snacks. Y/n do you wanna come with?” Julie asks making an escape for you to avoid the now awkward tension in the room.

“Yeah. Yeah.” You were quickly nodding your head and jumping up from your laptop. You didn’t even wait for Julie as you made a beeline for the garage doors and pushed them open, hurrying up the pathway to Julie’s house.

Julie exchanged a knowing glance with the boys, reading Alex and Reggie’s glances before following after you saying you’d be back in a minute. You were pacing around on the patio when Julie finally got to you. She raised her eyebrows slightly trying to read your thoughts.

“Y/n, why did you lie? That could have been the perfect opportunity to tell him how you feel.” Julie says and you shoot her a small glare.

“Julie, he doesn’t like me like that. I just didn't want to embarrass myself but I guess I embarrassed myself even more by saying nothing.” You admit, slowing your pacing to look Julie in the eye. She lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t think you embarrassed yourself. You were just flustered which is understandable, but I say go for it. You never know what can happen. The Y/n I know doesn’t back down from a challenge either.” Julie puts a comforting arm on your shoulder and you were thankful for it. You squeeze her hand in response.

“Thanks. I don’t know, I guess I’ve just never felt this way about someone before..” You trail off and Julie squeezes your shoulder even tighter,

“Look, I get it, it’s scary, but you can do it. Think of this as me encouraging you to talk to him like you did for me and Nick. Just go for it. Have some confidence.” Julie winked at you and you chuckle at her actions.

“There’s the Y/n I know. Now come on, we still need to get snacks. I gotta make my lie somewhat believable.” Julie nudged your side before making her way inside as you followed after he with a laugh.

The two of you walk back into the garage a few moments later where the boys met your glances. Luke was now moved onto your spot on the couch while Alex and Reggie hung around by the piano still. You rolled your eyes that Luke took your spot but at least he was gracious enough to move your computer. You walked over to him where he smirked as you made an attempt to move him out of the way.

“Get out of my spot.” You tease trying to move Luke out of the way again but he didn’t budge and instead kept holding that smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes so you instead took a seat beside him and grabbed your laptop from the coffee table.

“I’ll move if you tell me what you think my love language is.” Luke says and you quickly met his eyes. You glanced at Alex, Reggie, and Julie for a moment where they only shrugged. You huffed under her breath knowing you had no way out of this now.

“I don’t know.” You say simply trying to get off of the topic but Luke kept pushing. He leaned in closer towards you and you could feel his breath on your neck.

“I think you do..” Luke says and you meet his gaze again. You purse your lips together before glancing back at your computer for a moment.

“Touch.” You say plainly and simply. You refused to meet Luke’s eyes as you furthered your answer, “I always noticing you touching Alex or Reggie in one way or another. Whether it’s something small or a hug or just a reason to touch them. It’s sweet.” You finish a small smile on your lips as you opened the tab you had been working on previously. A comfortable silence filled the room and you felt pretty content with your answer. It wasn't as bad or as embarrassing as you thought it would be. Luke was silent beside you and you were afraid to look at him so you just kept her gaze on your computer.

You didn’t actually know if you could touch the boys, you just assumed you couldn’t because Julie was the only one with the real special powers. You had just been randomly gifted parts of them somehow. You all just walked around each other because the guys found it slightly weird to just walk through people they knew. Luke stared at you beside him and he wanted to at least try. If anything, his hand would just fall through like it did with everyone, so slowly and carefully, Luke reached out to turn your chin so you would look at him. The guys raised his eyebrow at his movements and then, he touched you.

You felt his hand under your chin and you both did a double take. Luke quickly pulled his hand away in surprise that you actually felt that. The two of you exchanged a wondering and surprised glance.

“We just touched..”

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson x y/n #love language #love langauges #japt #japt luke #japt alex #japt reggie #fanfiction #fluff #reggie jatp #alex jatp #willie jatp #flynn jatp #Luke Patterson imagine

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

Payback | Dean Winchester

✦ pairing — Dean Winchester x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.2k

✦ request — I was wondering if you could do a dean winchester imagine that is like the reader is like young and has been with the boys since she was 18 and now she’s like around 21 or 22. She lives at the bunker with them and helps with research. So, basically she’s fallen in love with dean and has been in love with him for years. She never says anything because she watches him go after all these skinny girls and thinks she will never be good enough since she’s big and doesn’t think he’d ever like her. Then one day she basically just reaches a breaking point and it comes out to dean, and after some angst they get together. Then maybe some fluff or smut?

✦ warnings — angst, age gap (reader is in her twenties while Dean is in his forties), reader is kinda insecure at times, language, mentions of past sexual partners, mentions of a past ilegal relationship, a twinge of jealousy, suggestive stuff, some fluff.

════════════════════════

You heard laughs on the other side of the bar, right under the Bud Light neon sign. Unable to stop yourself, you looked that way.

A small friend group had erupted in laughter. There was a tall guy in the middle of two redheads — you couldn’t see very well, but you could tell he had caught you staring.

So you deviated your eyes to the right, where the bartender served one of your companions another beer. A couple of beers in fact. Dean was talking to a woman, undoubtedly charming her as he rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

You couldn’t look any longer, you would be sick if you did. He should’ve been doing that to you.

Realistically, you were probably twice her size or more, but you still could dream.

That was the problem, truly — you only could dream. Dean would quit hunting before even considering seeing you as a potential conquest. By this point, you should have been used to it.

Your eyes went back to the friend group from earlier. The tall guy held your gaze for a moment — you couldn’t figure out his eye color, or what his eyes showed under the uneven light, but you damn well could see he was handsome.

Not wanting to give him the wrong impression, you turned to your side and picked up your jacket.

Maybe you should also start to pay attention to the men who were actually interested.

But they weren’t Dean Winchester.

Comparing every man you met to him was a reflex, just like comparing yourself to the women he picked up at bars.

The Bunker was eerie every hour of the day, but there was something especially uncanny about an empty Bunker in the middle of the night. Devastatingly so.

Turning on the lights as you made your way towards the library, you made a beeline towards the kitchen. You weren’t in the mood for drinking anymore or for food, but you knew you needed to drink water.

Taking refugee in the library, you looked around a few news sites to see if you found something. It wasn’t difficult to find something shady or weird going on, but filtering out conspiracy theories was a pain in the ass.

Eventually, you found just what you were hoping you would. Dean and Sam rarely took you with them for hunts, but perhaps you could convince them this time to at least let you watch from the car.

Sam came home a little later, tipsy enough to be in a good mood. You told him about the case you had found, he said he would check it out in the morning and wished you a goodnight.

Dean didn’t come home. Why would he when he could have literally anybody he wanted?

You didn’t get any sleep. You had hoped that listening to an audiobook would lull you, but like most things, it wasn’t enough to even entertain you.

You were sick of this, of being into somebody who would never be into you. And who the fuck loses sleep for somebody who doesn’t see them as anything more than a sibling? You, apparently.

You needed coffee and a hug, but coffee by itself would have to do.

To your luck, Dean was already in the kitchen when you entered. His hair was wet which meant he was, thankfully, fresh out of the shower.

Instead of greeting you, he asked, “Where’s Sammy?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He took the car.”

You didn’t even know Sam had brought the car home the night before. “He must have found the case interesting.”

“There’s a case?”

“Kind of. It’s not too far away from here,” you explained, “but I wasn’t sure it was something up our alley. I guess Sam thought it was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you weren’t here.” You could tell your answer offended him. Good.

“You should have called.”

“Babying you isn’t my job, Dean.”

“Funny you say that when babysitting you isn’t mine and yet...”

“Can you stop treating me like a fucking child for two seconds?”

“Stop acting like one and I might.”

“God, you’re fucking insufferable. I can’t believe I’m in love with you!”

You didn’t know whose eyes were wider, if his or yours.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

He tried to be nonchalant, but Dean couldn’t even move. “Sweetheart, come on. It’s okay.”

You effusively shook your head. “It’s isn’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do or how to fucking react.” You were yelling now. Why were you yelling over this?

“I— well, I don’t know what to say.” He stuttered. “I mean, you are a kid. I could be your dad who had a kid at a young age, okay? This is fucking crazy.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. It’s humiliating.”

“I’m not going to give you shit about it.”

“No, you are. And then you’re gonna go and fuck somebody who’s actually hot and interesting and you’re gonna make me feel worse.”

“Hey, you’re interesting.”

“I’m not. And even then, you don’t go for them because they’re interesting, do you?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You wanted him to say that you were attractive too, that he would go for you in a heartbeat.

“Nothing.”

Both of you remained silent then. He had many chances to make it right, to have enough pity for you to at least apologize for not realizing you were in love with him sooner.

“ I’m gonna go,” you announced, having decided that this wasn’t worth it. The humiliation hurt, but his reaction stung.

He reached over and stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What now?” Your voice broke and your lip trembled. Not now, you thought. But now it was.

“Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.”

He hugged you to his chest. “I hate seeing you cry.”

His arms were tightly wrapped around you, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your upper back.

“You’re making me feel even more stupid,” you admitted through tears.

Dean sighed heavily. His hand twitched against your clothed skin as he tried to keep himself from rubbing his face. “You know, maybe you need a break.”

“Are you really trying to get rid of me already?”

He didn’t deny it. So you pushed him off you and stormed out. You couldn’t even get a fucking consolation hug.

════════════════════════

You liked to think you were doing a good job avoiding him. It wasn’t like he spent that much time at home either way.

Expecting him to care had been too much, it seemed. You hadn’t wanted him to beg, or even fantasized about him chasing after you — you just wanted him to care, to at least told you he would forget about it or pretend you hadn’t said anything.

Sam entered the library, feigning interest in the stack of books you had piled on the table two nights ago.

He stalled, opening the one on top as though he hadn’t seen it before.

You shuffled in your seat. Waiting for whatever he would say.

He cleared his throat so you’d look up. You did.

“Dean and I are going out for a drink or two. Want to come?”

“No, I’m gonna watch something on my laptop and go to bed early.”

Sam gave you a worried look. “Well, if you need anything...”

“Have fun.”

Maybe Dean had been right, maybe you needed a break, and maybe —just maybe— this wasn’t the place you were meant to be at.

But you wanted to be there, and you wanted him. It fucking sucked that you would never get what you wanted just because you weren’t thin.

Story of your life.

You stayed in the library longer than you planned and eventually your tv marathon was held there. You had everything you needed and the chairs were comfortable enough.

Your laptop rested on the other side of the table as you leaned onto said table with your forearms and laid your head on your arm.

A knock on the thick door startled you. Looking up, you found green eyes.

“Did I scare you?”

You pressed the space bar to pause your show. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to come back early.”

“Sammy left with somebody so he’s not coming home tonight.”

You hummed, unsure as to what you were supposed to say. Should you say that you were happy for Sam? Should you ask why he hadn’t left with somebody too?

Dean spoke before you could come up with something. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Seeing you nod, Dean approached the table. He didn’t sit down, forcing you to crane your neck.

“I’ll find somewhere else to live,” you assured him.

He frowned, looking down as he searched for your now shifty eyes. “You’re leaving?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” He rubbed his palm against his forehead. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

You twisted your mouth. “It’s a little late for that.”

He hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to leave. You’re part of the family.”

“I think I deserve space to move on.”

A groan slipped past his throat and lips, rumbling in his chest. He was growing desperate. “Look... I’m trying to be the responsible adult here because God knows you won’t be.”

“So now I’m an adult?”

“It was never my intention to treat you like a child. I just wanted to put some distance between us.”

“You could have said so.” You didn’t think you would need to state the obvious to somebody as smart as Dean.

“I didn’t want things to be weird or to give the impression that I could take advantage of you if you were too close. I would never do that.”

Not proud enough to pretend you knew what he was talking about, you admitted, “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“You’re pretty,” he blurted. “Really fucking pretty and interesting and so attractive that’s kinda unfair. And you’re also too young.”

“Dean.”

“Mmmh?”

“Kiss me.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?”

“Just kiss me,” you insisted. “We’ll forget about it if it doesn’t feel right.”

Dean took the chair beside yours out and pulled it to the side. His eyes didn’t meet yours as he leaned in, but they did when his nose brushed yours.

He softly placed his lips on top of yours. You saw his eyes screw shut before you closed yours. It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, you feared you would have to go back to hide the way you felt about him.

Grabbing you by the waist, Dean made you stand up. He wrapped an arm around you while you rested your hands on his sides as a reflex.

He kissed you again, hard. So hard he unintentionally pushed you against the table. His tongue tasted of whiskey and those bacon-flavored chips you had never had the heart to tell him weren’t that good.

You brought a hand up to the back of his neck, kissing him deeply.

Dean took advantage of the fact that he had you trapped between the table and his body to caress yours. He started with your back and dragged his hands down to your ass.

His hands traveled to your torso, where he could surely feel your belly up, fingers toying with the hem of your black t-shirt.

You stopped his fingers from lifting your top and pulled away from the kiss. “Wait.”

“Having second thoughts?” he breathlessly asked.

“I’m not what you’re used to,” you explained through ragged breathing. “At all.”

”Really?”

You nodded, ashamed. One thing was him knowing how big you were and other was him seeing it for himself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way...”

“That’s a great way to let me know you’re about to insult me.” Fuck. You were getting defensive again — what a way to kill the mood.

“I’m not!” he defended himself. “I was going to point out that you’ve been around for a relatively short amount of time to know what I’m used to.”

“I’ve never seen you with a fat person before.”

“And I’ve never seen you with somebody older than you before.”

Was he playing dumb? “Of course you have.”

“Huh? When?”

“That guy in Texas was well in his thirties. And I dated somebody in their twenties when I was 16, I’m not too proud of that one, but—“

He interrupted you. “Nevermind. Shut up.” Dean kissed you again, bringing you flush against him.

You smiled against his mouth. “Is somebody jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Serves you right.”

“You’re evil.” He bit down your bottom lip and pulled on it.

“It’s just payback, I promise.”

Dean snorted. “Can’t say I don’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, allowing him to dissipate the tension. You would let him do whatever he wanted, regardless of the outcome, but you were too scared to say it.

You didn’t have to.

“Hey.” He cupped your face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured you. His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “We can take our time.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 3 years

Text

I decided to watch the Walker pilot so you don’t have to. #2

Because I don’t love myself enough, I guess. Let’s continue.

Recap in case you missed the first part: it’s boring, Jared acts like he stumbled on the set and never heard about it before, Texan law enforcement must wear very pristine shirts and cowboy hats or they will die, I guess, the cinematography wants to be good but I’m not sure it knows how to do it.

The last thing I mentioned in the first post was Jared doing a thing with his mouth but I think you need to see it. It’s basically the extent of Jared’s acting in this show. I had nothing against you, man, I swear. I even got your autograph once. I’m not a hater. I’m just looking at him...

THE TITLE CARD! I had paused the episode riiight before the title card. You have to witness it in all its embarrassing glory

Whose idea was it??

Some shots of the city of Austin. Walker and Martinez (Mexican Lady Cop) are having lunch. She says she’s heard about him, he asks what she’s learnt, she says, I textuallty quote, “I hear you are the edge of the coin”. Again, we are not allowed to have any kind of slight metaphor without the dialogue slapping us in the face with it.

“Not head or tail, just... your way” Jared didn’t even come up with the metaphor in that interview, it was in the script. Unless he came up with that line, which isn’t even a good line.

She basically tells him not to get in the way of her career. Being a Mexican-American cop is hard! Such deep commentary.

They start discussing the case, which I had already forgotten about. The cop who was slightly assaulted and won’t talk about it. “Maybe whatever was in that truck spooked him enough to abandon his oath” maybe it was a monster. god I wish it was a monster so that’d mean I’m watching Supernatural and Jensen is in it. The “oath” thing is kinda icky, like they want to remind us that being a cop is a noble path. It is in some places under some conditions. But we’re talking about Generic American conditions.

He’s like “let’s use the traffic cams to see if we can see something” and he slips right into his Sam tone. Admittedly that’s a Sam kind of thing to say.

It was day, and now it’s night. Walker house. He arrives when his family have already started dinner. Except the daughter isn’t there, she’s out with a friend. “Isabel, some Mexican girl” Walker’s father calls the friend. “Mexican American, dad” the gay brother corrects him, a deep and interesting commentary on ethnicity in the United States, we’re weeping with emotion.

Walker apparently isn’t happy that his mother has enrolled his daughter in a Catholic school, his father snaps back at him. We don’t care. We’re not emotionally invested in any of this.

There’s some awkward dialogue because he mentions the daughter playing basketball, but she’s switched to soccer. Wow, it’s like she’s become an entirely different person in those eleven months he was undercover! Can you believe? Apparently she used to play soccer before, she’s come back to it. Whoa. She’s an utterly unrecognizable person now, it’s going to be so hard for Walker to get to know her again from scratch. Can you believe?

Then he gets a call. He needs to pick up the daughter from the police station. He does some Jared awkward faces and leaves.

The daughter (Stella) was at a party and was arrested for possession. I miss when possession meant demonic possession. Dramatic music plays. She’s there with the Mexican American friend, whose parents arrive and he starts a speech on how they should get to know each other better. It is so not the right context to start making friends. “Epic first meeting” Isabel says. “I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing” Stella says. “For who?” Walker quips, like a normal person does.

He’s like, let’s go, and the girls hug, which is the only believable expression of affection I’ve seen so far in the episode. Can’t the story be about Stella and Isabel?

Father-daughter conversation in the truck. Apparently we have emotional moments in cars, which we have never seen on television before.

He asks what she was thinking, she’s like, duh what do people use drugs for. She calls him out for disappearing completely. She mentions how it was bad enough that they didn’t have mom. He says “we both got to stop acting like she’s gonna come back and put us right” which makes absolutely zero sense. It’s like someone wrote it on a note for how to develop the characters and they just decided to slap it into the script of the pilot. Remember these people haven’t seen each other for eleven months, he left shortly after his wife died. They didn’t have the time to process the grief together, why is he even saying that line here?

Meanwhile Martinez get home and we meet her boyfriend, a very cute Black man. They’re cute. Why can’t the story be about them?

He asks her about Walker, she says he’s a mess. Oh god. She says he was a Marine, “signed after 9/11”. Holy shit. He’s a Marine who signed up after asdfghjkl can’t you feel the Manly Trauma here????

He’s a Marine who signed up to fight Muslims after 9/11 and now has a dead wife, he’s exactly the kind of male lead character we need right now.

She says she’s trying to figure him out. Her boyfriend is like “dude stop thinking about that guy, he’s not at home trying to figure you out” and she replies “oh I’m pretty sure he thinks he knows everything about me already”.

This is the first scene that hasn’t felt bad so far.

Meanwhile Jared and his brother go to a bar. It’s very ~Texas Aesthetic~, and they’re wearing cowboy hats, of course. You are not allowed to go to a bar without a cowboy hat in Texas. “The brothers Walker” the flannel-shirt-clad bartender says, coming with drinks. Jensen Ackles makes a face somewhere in the mountains.

The brother goes to call his partner and the bartender starts chatting with Walker. She has a conversation with Jared’s awkward faces and she’s like, I guess you left because I couldn’t answer your questions about what happened yo your wife. This is how people converse in real life.

She asks him if he’s alright and he doesn’t answer, instead is like “let’s have a dance”. He doesn’t say he’s fine, but I think it still counts as a I’m Fine Lie Moment #2 because that’s what it is in spirit.

I know you’re bored, I’m bored.

They dance in the Texan bar, I’m distracted by the pool tables and wish this was Supernatural so we’d see Jensen Ackles play pool.

Obviously the dance is interrupted by work - a text from Ramirez who says she’s got something, “office 8am?” so he leaves because he has to wake up early. I’m not kidding.

I was kind of warmed over by Ramirez and her cute boyfriend and by the bar who was kind of nice as a location, when the next scene at the office immediately starts with Ramirez saying “My mom wouldn’t let me play with dolls when I was a kid, so Iearned about cars instead”. I die a little inside. It’s the second time she’s referred to her mother wanting a son...? So she’s badass because she wasn’t raised to be feminine...? Ew.

So they have this lead thanks to her knowledge of cars. They go investigate. I’m bored.

I shouldn’t have said I was bored, because Walker destroys my boredom by having Jared pick up a cross and start talking to “JC” sarcastically asking him for guidance about his kids going to the Catholic school. “Can you stop” Ramirez says, along with all of us.

By the way they’re in a workshop run by an ex-convict who employs former criminals to make figurines (like that cross). I got a bad feeling about this. Former criminal in cop shows is always code for current criminal.

The investigation leads to two guys who work in the store - “oh I know you,” one immediately says when he spots Walker, “you’re the ranger with the dead wife”. Walker is like, what did you say. And the guy is like oh I heard the story of a ranger’s wife biting a bullet near the border, guess you couldn’t protect her uh~~~

They exchange more provocations - Walker calls him some lowlife something and the guy goes to punch him and Walker beats him up. Violently. I’m uncomfortable. We’re supposed to think he’s exaggerating here but... he does get very violent and should not be a cop. Period.

They go to Ramirez’ house because he cut his hand. Her boyfriend is like “baby there’s a dude bleeding on your couch” I want a season of him, exclusively him.

She scolds Walker. Not because he beat up a guy with more force than needed, but because he acted stupid and that’s bad for her career. I’m uncomfortable.

Also, what’s bad is that they’re supposed to work *together*. He says he has his own way of doing things. Yikes yikes yikes.

She says that her theory is that they put them together because he always break the rules. Apparently she read up his cases and he always break the rules. The main character of the show is a cop who break the rules in half the cases he works. Yikes yikes yikes but also did I mention yikes?

No, wait, he acknowledges that he “bends” the rules, like that’s better! Yikes!

More bad dialogue, then Stella’s school calls him. She hasn’t been at school.

He goes to ask Isabel’s mother, who reveals they haven’t their papers yet, so any criminal activity would mean deportation. He talks about it with Ramirez and mentions that his brother who’s a DA could get in contact with the Feds to speed up the papers. Are we supposed to be like “oh what a good guy”? The thing is just creepy to me.

Well, at least Ramirez says something about it, or actually quotes her mother who used to say that the law doesn’t protect us. That’s why she ~burned bridges~ with her family! Apparently because she became a cop.

Ow. Her mother is not speaking to her because for her, her daughter being a cop is like a betrayal. But for her it’s a way to set things right! We’re supposed to think her mother is exaggerated. #notallcops #individualgoodcopscanchangethesystemfromtheinsideforsuredefinitely

Meanwhile their investigation continues. Remember the cross Walker randomly picked up to mock the concept of Jesus? Ramirez stole it. And now they find out there’s heroin in it. Alright... obviously the business that was supposed to rehabilitate former criminals is a cover for cartel drug dealing. What were we expecting. I’m tired.

Ramirez decides to work the case alone and sends Walker to look for his daughter. “I was that kid once, I always wanted to be found”. The impression you get from the scene is that Walker had forgotten about his daughter missing lol. Ramirez insists he goes. I’m uncomfortable with how many times people put on cowboy hats. Someone should count. We’re only 30 minutes in and it feels like it’s happened 80 times.

Alright, a break now! My laptop’s ventilation is running like crazy, VLC and long tumblr drafts are a bad combination. Or maybe it’s just my laptop being allergic to this show.

#cw's jared: legit texan #marghe watches walker for some darned reason

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Arkham Sessions: Captain Cold

These vignettes, and, more specifically, the characterization of Dr. Hugo Strange, are based on the wonderful Arkham Files YouTube videos produced by Mr. Rogues.

Here's his channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyxNOHiNclZlVpeRhYV2QRQ

Since I am a huge Flash nerd, I decided to use this idea as a jumping-off point to explore how the Rogues would respond to therapy sessions. Again, all credit to the basic format goes to Mr. Rogues.

Not everything Dr. Strange says should be taken as truth; his bias against costumed vigilantes affects most of his interviews with the patients.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Leonard Snart, also known as Captain Cold. The patient displays a number of antisocial tendencies, but no formal diagnosis has ever been given to him, and since he arrived at Arkham only a few days ago, I have not had the time to give him a complete psychological examination. Session One. Good day, Mr. Snart.

Capt. Cold: Len.

Hugo Strange: Pardon?

Capt. Cold: Just call me Len, Doc. I ain’t the type to stand on formalities.

Hugo Strange: Very well, then. (Pause) So, Leonard-

Capt. Cold: Not Leonard, Len.

Hugo Strange: I take it you’re not especially fond of your given name?

Capt. Cold: Believe me, Doc, if your name was ‘Leonard Snart’, you wouldn’t be fond of it, either.

Hugo Strange: Fair enough. So, Len, what exactly influenced you to put on a parka and go running around robbing banks and jewelry stores with a freeze ray?

Capt. Cold: It ain’t a freeze ray, it’s a cold gun.

Hugo Strange: Besides semantics, what is the difference?

Capt. Cold: Mr. Freeze-you got him locked up somewhere in this loony bin, right?- has a freeze ray. It shoots ice. Me? I’ve got a cold gun. My gun negates thermal motion. Stops protons and electrons dead in their tracks. People too. Even the Flash slows to a crawl when I hit him with it.

Hugo Strange: (Surprised; a bit skeptical) Do you mean to say that you have invented a weapon that can create temperatures of absolute zero?

Capt. Cold: Yep. And I did it years before that lovesick freak got turned into a popsicle man.

Hugo Strange: Your records indicate that you dropped out of high school at the age of fourteen, Len. How could you possibly have the requisite knowledge to create such a weapon? Are you even familiar with James Prescott Joule or J.J. Thomson?

Capt. Cold: Who?

Hugo Strange: J. J. Thomson is the man who discovered the electron. James Prescott Joule is the scientist who discovered the First Law of Thermodynamics. If what you’re saying is true, you managed to exceed the wildest dreams of either of these illustrious men, without even knowing of them or their theories.

Capt. Cold: Huh. Guess I did. Well, how about that?

Hugo Strange: How could you possibly have managed this, Len?

Capt. Cold: Just ‘cause I’m trailer trash don’t mean I’m stupid, Doc.

Hugo Strange: Clearly not. So, how did you do it?

Capt. Cold: Sorry, Doc. Trade secret.

Hugo Strange: Len, we gave you a number of psychological and intelligence tests upon your admittance to Arkham Asylum, and-

Capt. Cold: (Cutting him off) About that-what’m I doin’ in this loony bin, anyhow? I ain’t crazy, and even if I were, I’m from Central City. That’s a thousand miles away from Gotham.

Hugo Strange: A few weeks ago, Iron Heights Penitentiary’s southwestern wall was destroyed in a mysterious accident. As a result, it is currently incapable of holding supercriminals, metahuman or otherwise, and you and your cohorts had to be housed somewhere. Through a series of political and judicial decisions that I confess make as little sense to me as they probably do to you, all of you so-called “Rogues” were transferred to Arkham Asylum until such time as Iron Heights is properly rebuilt.

Capt. Cold: I get havin’ to send us someplace else if Iron Heights is destroyed, but...I ain’t insane. Why not send me to Blackgate instead of the loony bin?

Hugo Strange: Many people are of the opinion that anyone who puts on a silly costume in order to commit crimes is insane by definition, Len.

Capt. Cold: That include you, Doc?

Hugo Strange: Whether or not you are insane in the legal sense of the term is not for me to decide, Len. That being said, I do believe that your decision to commit crimes in such a...theatrical...manner indicates some level of emotional disturbance.

Capt. Cold: Hey, Doc, you’re the expert on this stuff, not me.

Hugo Strange: In that case, why don’t we return to the subject of your astonishing invention?

Capt. Cold: I’m stuck in the loony bin anyway. Might as well.

Hugo Strange: Can you please refrain from describing this facility as a “loony bin”, Len? The term is pejorative, both for the staff who work here and the other patients who live here.

Capt. Cold: Pejorative? What’s that mean, Doc?

Hugo Strange: It means that it is rude. Describing the mentally ill as “lunatics” is unkind and unscientific.

Capt. Cold: Whatever you say, Doc. Whatever you say.

Hugo Strange: (Coughs) As I was saying, when you arrived at the asylum, we gave you a number of psychological and intelligence tests. While your scores in the area of mathematics were unusually high, especially for someone who never finished high school, your literacy scores were abysmal. You are thirty-eight years old, but you read at the level of the average six-year-old.

Capt. Cold: Well, we can’t all have your fancy education, Doc. What’s my reading ability got to do with my cold gun?

Hugo Strange: I find it difficult to believe that a high school dropout-a high school dropout, moreover, who can barely read-would be able to invent a gun that can produce absolute zero on his own.

Capt. Cold: Are you callin’ me a liar?

Hugo Strange: Not necessarily, Len. What I am saying is that I do not believe that the Cold Gun was created in the way that you may believe that it was.

Capt. Cold: Oh, so you ain’t callin’ me a liar-you’re callin’ me crazy.

Hugo Strange: I did not say that either, Len.

Capt. Cold: You didn’t have to, Doc. I may be a redneck high-school dropout, but I ain’t survived as long as I have by not knowin’ when people are bad-mouthin’ me.

Hugo Strange: Len, I am not bad-mouthing you. I am trying to help you.

Capt. Cold: Sure you are.

Hugo Strange: (Frustrated) Not everyone is looking to take advantage of you, Mr. Snart!

Capt. Cold: Funny. Hasn’t been my experience, Doc. (Pause) Look. I ain’t mad, Doc. If I had a buck for every time somebody called me trailer trash or a dumb thug or a stupid hick, I wouldn’t need to rob no more banks. You ain’t said nothin’ I haven’t heard a million times before. But I want you to know this: I invented my cold gun, and I did it by myself. I. Ain’t. Stupid.

Hugo Strange: (Looking to change the subject) Len, I never said that you were unintelligent. In fact, your criminal history makes it quite clear that you are an effective, pragmatic operative. An unintelligent man could never have organized the only successful costumed criminal combine in the nation. Every other group of costumed criminals has folded within a few months at most, usually due to interpersonal tensions, but you have somehow managed to keep your little group together for over a decade. What is it you call yourselves, again?

Capt. Cold: The Rogues.

Hugo Strange: That’s right. The Rogues. Now tell me, Len, what exactly is the secret to your group’s...ah...success?

Capt. Cold: (Amused) You plannin’ to start a costumed gang, Doc?

Hugo Strange: Certainly not. I am simply curious. It isn’t often that I get the opportunity to interview criminals from outside of Gotham’s borders.

Capt. Cold: It ain’t that complicated, Doc. The reason we’ve held together for so long is ‘cause we got an unspoken code. We watch one another’s backs to the end. Nobody gets left behind; everybody gets an equal share.

Hugo Strange: (Surprised) Are you implying that you are...friends...with your Rogues?

Capt. Cold: You think I’d trust people I hate to watch my back?

Hugo Strange: Admittedly, that wouldn’t make much sense...it’s just that I was under the impression that you were the leader of the group.

Capt. Cold: I am.

Hugo Strange: Most gang bosses I know keep the majority of the profits from their crimes for themselves.Why don’t you?

Capt. Cold: ‘Cause we’re a team. We do equal work; we get equal rewards.

Hugo Strange: A surprisingly admirable sentiment for a common thief.

Capt. Cold: (Proudly) There ain’t nothin’ common about me, Doc.

Hugo Strange: (Sigh) That’s certainly true, Len. (Pause) On the subject of things that are not common, why the parka and the silly goggles?

Capt. Cold: Practicality. Parka keeps me warm; goggles help focus my vision and keep me from bein’ blinded by the flare of my own cold gun.

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) And why call yourself “Captain Cold”? After all, you aren’t really a Captain of anything.

Capt. Cold: I’ll admit, it ain’t the most creative name in the world...but anything’s better than “Leonard Snart”.

Hugo Strange: Why not just change your name, then? Why take up a ridiculous costumed alias?

Capt. Cold: Because I’m not just an ordinary thug. Leonard Snart is ordinary; boring…..but Captain Cold? Captain Cold is cool.

Hugo Strange: Was that a...pun?

Capt. Cold: What can I say? I admit they’re dumb, but old habits die hard.

Hugo Strange: And the Flash had nothing to do with your decision to put on a costume and call yourself by a silly, alliterative name while committing crimes?

Capt. Cold: The Flash? Why would he have anything to do with it?

Hugo Strange: I was under the impression that the Flash was your arch-enemy.

Capt. Cold: (Laughs) Arch-enemy? What is this, a Saturday morning TV show?

Hugo Strange: The Central City papers make quite a big deal of your rivalry with the so-called “Scarlet Speedster”.

Capt. Cold: Look, the Flash is basically a cop. Sure, he’s a cop with superpowers, and he’s good for sharpening our wits, but at the end of the day, he’s just an obstacle to our getting the score.

Hugo Strange: Then you don’t view your battles with him as some epic confrontation between ideologies?

Capt. Cold: Why would I do that? Ideologies don’t pay the grocery bills, Doc.

Hugo Strange: And you haven’t dedicated your life to proving your superiority over him once and for all?

Capt. Cold: No. I fight the Flash for the same reasons I fight the cops: I want to get rich, and he’s standing in my way. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.

Hugo Strange: So the Flash is nothing special to you?

Capt. Cold: I didn’t say that. Like I said, he’s good for sharpening the wits. I wouldn’t be half as successful as I am if he weren’t around to keep me and the guys on our toes, and yeah, it’d be neat to finally get the victory over him once and for all...but really, he ain’t so different from us. He’s just another guy workin’ a nine-to-five, tryin’ to provide for his family. I don’t like him-he’s a stuck-up, self-righteous prig sometimes-but he’s a good person. He’s not a superhero ‘cause he wants hero-worship. He actually wants to help people. He’s even helped me, and I make a career out of trying to freeze-dry him. You gotta respect a guy like that.

Hugo Strange: You actually see the Flash as a man?

Capt. Cold: What else would I see him as? A Martian? ‘Cause I’ve seen Martians, and I can tell you, the Flash ain’t green enough to be one.

Hugo Strange: It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve spent so much time with the patients who view Bruce Wayne, formerly the Batman, as some sort of supernatural entity or as a grand opposite in a never-ending conflict between order and chaos that it’s rather...odd to listen to a costumed criminal who claims to view their local costumed vigilante simply as a person.

Capt. Cold: Man, you have got to get out more.

Hugo Strange: (Coldly) I don’t recall requesting life advice from you, Mr. Snart.

Capt. Cold: Well, you should take it anyway. Ain’t often I give stuff away for free.

Hugo Strange: (Annoyed) This session is not about me, Mr. Snart. It’s about you.

Capt. Cold: What else do you wanna talk about? I’m not stupid, I’m not creepily obsessed with the Flash, I don’t butcher people for fun, and I don’t have any weird hang-ups about dead relatives or riddles or plants or dolls or jokes or the number two. I’m not a good guy, but I think I’m a pretty normal guy, all things considered.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Snart, no one puts on a costume without some sort of psychological disturbance. Even if the Flash was not in some way responsible for your decision-something which I am not yet fully convinced of-no rational human being would do such a thing. I just need to find out what your disturbance is. (Pause) Perhaps it began in your childhood, Mr. Snart?

Capt. Cold: (Icily) My childhood is none of your business.

Hugo Strange: I am your psychologist, Mr. Snart. That makes it my business. (Pause) Let’s see. Your file says that you were born to Lawrence Snart, a forty-year-old police officer who was kicked off the force for public drunkenness and suspected corruption, and Shirley Snart, a fifteen-year-old high school dropout. You and your family lived in a dilapidated trailer park, and your father was a known alcoholic who drank away your family’s welfare money. Five years after you came along, your younger sister, Lisa, was born...and your mother ran away, never to be seen again. The neighbors called the police because of domestic disputes between her and your father no less than thirteen times in five years, which leads me to suspect that she was spurred to leave the family because of her husband’s abuse. You were left to raise your sister, essentially on your own, at five years old, and you were effectively the head of the household from that point on. You never had a childhood, Mr. Snart.

Capt. Cold: Don’t you talk about my sister!

Hugo Strange: I take it that you’re close to her? Understandable, I suppose, given that you grew up with her in an abusive household. Your grandfather, who drove an ice cream truck, did his best to protect you and your sister from your father’s cruelty, but he was old and in poor health, and he died when you were only twelve years old. You never got over the loss, and your father’s abuse only got worse as you and your sister got older. When you turned 14, you dropped out of high school; you then worked a number of odd jobs to support yourself and your sister. However, shortly after you turned 18, you and your father got into a dreadful argument, one that ended with you running away from home and leaving your little sister alone with your father. After that, you eventually fell into a life of petty crime.

Capt. Cold: I...I had no choice. If I hadn’t left, he would’ve killed me!

Hugo Strange: I am not blaming you for choosing to run away, Mr. Snart. You were an abused child with very few options available to you.

Capt. Cold: (Quietly) I could’ve taken her with me.

Hugo Strange: And why didn’t you?

Capt. Cold: ‘Cause I was an 18-year-old dropout. Nobody was gonna give me custody of my sister...and besides, I’d started hangin’ out with dangerous people. I...I didn’t want her to get hurt.

Hugo Strange: In other words, she would have been in danger no matter what you had done.

Capt. Cold: It don’t matter! I’m her big brother! I was supposed to protect her!

Hugo Strange: (Coming to a realization) And because you weren’t able to protect her from your father as a boy, you’re trying to make up for it now by becoming this “Captain Cold”; a larger-than-life persona that can do all the things you weren’t able to do as a child. You’ve made yourself too powerful and dangerous for anyone to threaten, and you’ve made a surrogate family for yourself and your sister. That’s why the Rogues are so successful...it’s because they aren’t really a gang at all. They’re your family. Isn’t that right, Mr. Snart?

Capt. Cold: (Sarcastically) An’ I suppose the fact that my grandpa drove an ice cream truck somehow subconsciously influenced my decision to become Captain Cold?

Hugo Strange: (Aware of the sarcasm, but ignoring it) That’s perhaps a bit of a stretch, but it isn’t impossible.

Capt. Cold: I don’t believe this….

Hugo Strange: Don’t be afraid, Mr. Snart. Admitting you have a problem is difficult, but it’s also the first step on the road to recovery.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic #captain cold

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suntrastar · 4 years

Text

sink or swim

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you first meet ransom when meg drags you along to a party. everything somehow spirals from there.

warnings: swearing, smut (but like very vague smut, nothing super explicit), ransom’s general assholery

word count: 9.3k

author’s note: i hate ransom drysdale! he is a shit character! if he existed irl i would whoop his ass with NO hesitation. but i still wrote this fic because ... a bitch gets thirsty okay?? okay. and ik this is very long BUT a lot of it is dialogue so it should flow pretty fast!!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! ily now enjoy!!! you can also read this on ao3 :)

There’s something fun about being somewhere where no one wants you, and then something shameful.

Meg isn’t touching you, but as she drags you around her famous grandfather’s mansion in search of people to bother, it feels like she has you on an invisible leash, fastened tight over your neck. To keep you tethered to her- like a fucking dog.

The leash hurts like it is not made of plastic or metal but instead two hands squeezing tight, wringing you dry, choking you harder and harder and bruising you purple with no remorse.

Now, she’s debating political theory with her douchebag fuck of an uncle, who almost hits you once- almost hits you twice with his cane while waving it around as he quotes Fox News-

Their voices rise. You’re the only one that flinches.

Standing awkwardly on the edge, you wonder why you are the only guest at this terrible party that looks so lost. Meg gives you a covert this-is-total-bullshit glance, and a small, pained, rehearsed smile, both of which you have to return- that’s the real reason you’re here, after all- and her uncle rants on, wholly oblivious.

You look past them both, to where one man stands by himself.

He’s leaning against the far wall, and while Meg retaliates with some of her favorite words, including audacity and bigoted and problematic, you take a sudden, intense interest in the wallpaper pattern, sweeping your eyes over the span of it, looking over the man just once.

He is staring right back at you.

All it takes is his eyes- he’s just staring, but you’re absolutely embarrassed.

He looks rich, with too much product in his hair and a coat that looks like it cost more than your rent, with loafers that expose an uncomfortable amount of ankle and an expression that morphs into something wolfish as he starts towards you-

Before you can think, he’s joined your little circle- Meg prefers standing, so of course, everyone stands- and smiles when she glares at him.

He isn’t looking at you anymore.

“So,” he interrupts, and his voice is so dark, “what riveting political topic are we debating tonight?”

You should call an Uber. Why did you accept Meg’s offer of a ride?

“Ransom,” Meg says sweetly, “could you just, like, fucking not?”

This is supposed to be a Christmas party, but none of these people seem to be in the Christmas spirit. Including her uncle, with his stuffy sweater set and clunky-as-hell shoes. He sputters something about young people and their profanity, and then hastily leaves.

Without thinking, you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief.

The man smiles wider. Unfortunately, it makes him look very handsome.

”Ouch,” he says lightly, to Meg, and turns to you.

A shiver runs down your spine.

You hate him immediately.

“Who are you?” he asks.

For whatever reason, the question makes Meg scoff. She shakes her head at you- a warning. Her hair flounces with the movement.

Because she doesn’t want you to, you give him your name. And then add, because your name alone seems like a title too stripped down, “I’m Meg’s friend.”

It’s hard to convince yourself to be polite, when you don’t like how he’s been looking at you- with his eyes narrowed and brown furrowed and lips parted. He gives an insufferable nod.

“Right,” he says. “The one she’s been showing off all evening.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Ransom-” Meg starts, and suddenly you are so angry, at this man for confirming what you thought was all in your head, at Meg for suddenly swooping in to save you, like she’s been waiting for it-

“I guess,” you say, and smile a little, and regret everything.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and looks at you kindly.

Apparently, Meg is the only one allowed to be self-righteous in her annoyance, or anger, or any other mildly passionate emotion. She doesn’t return your covert this-is-total-bullshit glance.

So you fend for yourself.

“Well, so is this fucking party, so-”

He interrupts you with a laugh.

It’s loud and arrogant and mirthless, and you’ll climb out of a window, find a way to walk through the walls, if it means that you’ll escape it.

“I’m just joking,” he says, pursing his lips, and the hands on your neck, ever-present, nearly crush the breath out of you. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh,” you say, and instead of replying, he just looks at you.

He looks at you slowly, like he has nothing better to do, like he has time to waste. You can smell him- some cologne that’s spicy, and expensive, and Meg is staring at you in shock, like you’ve committed a crime.

But she’s quiet.

“I’m Ransom,” he says, and raises his hands to make little air quotes, which is weirdly adorable in a way that you hate, “Meg’s ‘asshole cousin’”

“Weird name,” you say.

You’ve changed your mind- you’re not even going to attempt to be nice.

For a second, he looks furious.

It’s attractive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyways, I’m about to ditch. Do you want a ride?”

How does he know you came here with Meg?

He was staring at you from the wall-

From his butterscotch-colored coat with its awful, ostensible lapels, he pulls out his car keys. The BMW logo flashes silver and blue, clashing against the gold of his pinky ring, clinking against the metal as he twirls the key ring around his finger-

For a second, you think that he’s about to toss the keys across the room and command you to fetch.

“Um,” you say, uncertainly, irritated with your own restraint, “Thanks, but Meg will-”

“Meg will what?”

He’s mocking you, and there is no one to come to your rescue.

Hesitantly, like she has to think twice about it, Meg opens her mouth to say something. What is her problem? What is your problem? Why are you treating her like she is your saving grace?

You talk before she gets the chance. “Okay, yeah. A ride would be great.”

***

Ransom offers because he likes your face.

You’re better-looking than the girls that Meg usually brings along to these parties, or maybe his standards have fallen- he isn't sure. Does it really matter? Even though he’s been looking at you all night, even though he’s positively thrilled to have you in his car, he’s not going to try anything.

There’s something desperate in your eyes that compels him against it.

You inhale sharply when he turns left.

“You forgot your turn signal,” you say, and he kind of likes how you chastise him, not angrily or even upset, but just exasperated-

How is someone like you friends with someone like Meg?

“Don’t worry about it,” he says lightly, and the tired glare you give him is enough to make his entire week.

Now that he thinks about it, his mother is always on his case about things like this- compassion and civility and basic human decency, and how he lacks it all, but what about now? He’s taking a miserable girl to her home, simply from the goodness of his own heart, with no strings attached.

This is such a good deed- this is like charity.

His mother is also always telling him that he’s severely, almost clinically narcissistic.

He definitely is, but again, does it matter?

“So, what do you think about my family?” he asks, making a big, dramatic show of using his turn signal before swerving right, feeling too pleased when you smile.

He steals a glance at your knees and somehow feels guilty.

He’ll have to do something about that.

“They’re pretty... lively,” you say hesitantly, and he’s suddenly hating the dark, this stupid fucking night- he’d like to see you better.

“Lively,” he repeats, and barks out a laugh. “They’re fucking crazy.”

You laugh, too, a real one- off-kilter, and too loud- none of that artificial shit he heard at the party. Nothing meant to please.

“I was definitely thinking that,” you say. He catches you looking at his hands, but boldly, you don’t look away. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Now you’re worried about being rude?”

“I’m in a car with a strange guy I’ve never met before, so yeah.”

You’re smiling but look uncomfortable, and then afraid.

All bark and no bite- you’ve been talking all this talk, when really, he realizes, you’re so washed-out, so faint, like the bare sliver of moon out in the sky, the same weak moon he’s been cursing out. The same stars, too- you are just as scattered.

You look pretty.

“Are you scared?”

He keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks you’ll snap at him if he doesn’t. Not like anyone drives out here anyway- not like he can’t pay off a ticket or two or five-

“Should I be?”

There is something so delicious about this moment, with you starting to worry- he can’t look at the road anymore, not when he can watch your throat bob as you swallow instead, and it still feels so violating, but so good.

“Nope,” he says, and you startle when you hear him say it, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “No need.”

“Great,” you say, and go quiet.

When he pulls up to your apartment complex, not too far from where he lives, he holds his mouth in check. He could say so many things right now, but for you, he restrains himself.

You have your bag in hand, seatbelt off. From the streetlight, the planes of your face look waxy yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say.

Your hand is on the door handle, nails glittering. He can’t make out the color of the polish.

While looking at it, a sudden urge overcomes him.

And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he wants to, so bad. It’s borderline frantic, the desire- it’s necessary and all-important and crucial, for him and his basic peace of mind, and maybe for you, too-

Who is he to deny himself?

“Wait,” he says, even though the door is open and you have half of yourself out the door.

The cold is slowly seeping in, bone-chilling.

You wait.

“Let me just,” he says, and can’t bring himself to say anything else.

He reaches out for your waxen face with one hand and presses it firmly against your cheek.

Under his touch, you shiver. He fans out his fingers to hold you better.

Your eyes are wide. He thinks you look a bit horrified- horrified with yourself for not resisting, maybe.

But he closes his eyes as he leans in, so it doesn’t matter.

He turns your head for you, a bit forcefully. You don’t protest.

He kisses your cheek.

When he pulls back and opens his eyes, you’re staring at him with your mouth in a perfect circle.

“Uh,” you say, and suddenly look away and out into the night, and it makes him angry, even though it should be flattering, “Merry Christmas.”

***

You don’t think about Ransom as much as he probably would have wanted- life picks up too fast.

In the last days of the year, Meg calls you and texts you and even goes so far as to send a few emails, but finally, you seem to have found the self-respect to not respond- consider that ridiculously wealthy bridge burned.

In January, your brother leaves to study for a semester abroad. All the walls in your small apartment are suddenly looming, standing high over you, standing empty. You try to shove off the loneliness by studying harder, by staying distracted.

In February, you have the same dream nearly every night- you’re sitting outside on a porch in the sun and for some reason there’s a bird on your head, and in your lap there’s a clock whose hands don’t work, and you’re wearing a heavy necklace made of gold links that jingle, and you’re so happy.

Does the bird count as company?

In early March, while you’re watering your plants, your phone rings with an unknown number.

You shouldn’t pick up unknown numbers.

You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Remember me?”

His voice nearly gives you whiplash.

It’s dark and harsh, faceless and yet as arrogant as ever.

“Hi, Ransom,” you say, and think of the night in the car for the first time since, think of how he gripped your face so hard that his ring left an imprint. “How the hell do you have my number?”

“Meg gave it to me,” he says smugly. “She says hi.”

You wonder what Meg thinks you did to her. It’s obviously something bad, something terrible, if she so willingly gave your number to this pretty-faced, pretty-voiced, ugly-coat-wearing asshole-

“Awesome,” you say plainly. You don’t want to talk about her. “Do you, like, need something, or-”

“I want to take you out,” he says.

You laugh and your grip on your pitcher slips, sloshing water over the edge.

“You’re joking.”

He is, right?

He takes an impatient breath that, for some reason, sounds inappropriate. “I’m serious.”

“Ransom,” you say, slowly, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then get to know me,” he says testily, and you can perfectly picture him, sitting in some colossal brownstone his parents bought him, while a butler daintily dabs the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief. “Tonight.”

You’ve overwatered your marigolds.

Has his voice really swept you this far away?

“No,” you say, and shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “You have anything better to do?”

You don’t, but you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie-

“I’ll treat you good,” he suddenly says, and his voice is low and sticky-sweet, dripping with honey. “I promise.”

He says it in a way that makes your knees weak.

You physically have to sit down- he knows how to get what he wants.

Could you actually do this?

Could you go out on a date with a crude, pretentious, trust-fund piece of trash, who probably thinks you’re easy, who’s only calling you because he’s bored, who has already subtly insulted you twice in this conversation alone-

-who got your number from his cousin that you both decidedly dislike, who kissed your cheek like you were pretty in the dark of the night, in his cold car?

“Fine,” you say. “Take me out.”

***

He doesn’t tell you that you look nice- he just stares.

There is something predatory in his eyes.

You’re out on a Wednesday night with a bad man, wasting your time, trying to get something out of nothing, smiling a fake smile when he orders you a drink you don’t like, already irritated with him, and trying too hard to stop looking at his face.

How are you actually interested?

You tell him that you’re in medical school.

“Really,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you. “You don’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

Underneath the table, you clench your hands for some sense of control, but still feel like you’re spinning. “What kind of girl?”

“Smart,” he says, and picks up his drink. The glass sweats beads of condensation, wetting the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

You shouldn’t dignify his flimsy insult with a response- he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make you roll your eyes or scowl or shiver. He wants you unsettled.

But the moral high ground is, unfortunately, too high.

“And I didn’t know that you’re such a terrible date.”

His teeth gleam white when he smiles. He knows.

He knows that he can say whatever the hell he wants, because he has money, and those eyes, and that insufferably nice rich-boy hair, and that sweater with its charmingly frayed hems, and that voice- he has everything, and then some, and he’s about to have you, too, if he keeps on looking at you like he already does.

“You’re so sweet,” he says.

“Fuck off.”

He winks and you could cry, you’re so fucking bothered-

You’re not usually this uptight, but he has you so drastically wound up that every little thing he does, even how he’s sitting- body sprawled, manspreading- is fire licking up on your skin, scorching-hot and ruining you with no remorse, like you have done something to deserve it.

When his eyes trail down, from your eyes to your mouth to your neck to below, you are so acutely aware of wanting him that you feel guilty. Like it’s a crime.

***

You don’t seem like the type of girl to fuck on the first date.

So, of course, Ransom tries to fuck on the first date.

As you stand outside the restaurant, in your dress and strappy sandals, you look so tense that he wants to laugh.

He can’t help it, because this whole thing you have going on- this weariness you approach everything with, this attitude- is so funny. Maybe, in any other situation, it would be irritating, but he’s been so bored lately that it’s stirring.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks, quietly, taking a step closer to you so that at this very moment, under the waning sun, you should be able to just lean up and kiss him-

You blink slowly and keep your silence.

This is fucking tedious.

This should be so easy- all he has to do is settle his hands somewhere soft and let time pass, and then before he knows it you’re there and under and begging. But he can’t bring himself to touch you just yet, not when his head is calling you pathetic, and his heart calls you-

His heart just calls you.

You start to answer, and then hesitate. All five stages of grief flicker over your face at once- denial to acceptance in the same breath.

“Sure,” you say, unevenly, desperately-

When you step inside his house, your eyes go wide. As you take it in- the decor, the windows, the excess, he locks the door behind him and takes you in.

You step further inside, and he thinks of where it would be best, but then your eyes crease as you smile- it’s impossible to wait when your smile looks like that- and so he backs you right into the closest wall, cups your face with both of his hands and kisses you.

He kisses you and you curl your hands over his shoulders and immediately kiss back, and he is taken aback and delighted.

And he knew- the entire time at dinner when you were making eyes at him like you couldn’t believe that you were actually sitting there, present in that moment- he knew that secretly, you’re a freak. He knew it- he knows it.

He hopes it.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispers, right into your mouth, when your heart has been beating right into his for a while, “Let me fuck you right here.”

You bite his lip.

He takes a hand away from your face and reaches under your dress fast, rucking it all the way up your thighs, trailing up to touch you-

“Fuck,” you gasp, and arch your back up against the wall, and he grips you a little tighter-

He presses a finger into you- pushing aside your underwear and, good grief, you’re already wet- harshly, and pulls away from your mouth, so he can watch your face.

The lines creasing your forehead look like poetry.

He thinks he likes you. It’s a shame he had to meet you through Meg- it would be nice if he had met you somewhere else, on his own.

That way, he’d be able to waltz in one day, to another insipid family gathering, with you tucked under his arm. You, with your promise of a medical degree and your strappy sandals, and your iron grip on his shoulders and your drawn out breath of a moan-

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and he’s a little irritated at how cracked his voice sounds, but it’s the right thing to say- you swear again and he picks up his pace, pressing hard on your clit. “If you’ll be good to me.”

“I’ll-” you say, and you’re actually stuttering, and breaking out into a lovely sweat, still forced back into the wall with his hand and body. He leans closer, so he can’t tell where you and him and the wall start and end. “I’ll be- fuck, Ransom-”

You still have your arms wrapped around him, like an embrace. He keeps one hand between your thighs, your dress pooling over his arm like water, and uses his other to work at his belt buckle.

This is also funny- you stay exactly how you are, even though at that moment, there is nothing holding you back.

***

The world is begging for you to consider your actions.

But you don’t. You know that when he offers, you’ll meet him again.

It should be too late. You’re exhausted, from a day full of lectures and an evening spent in a lab, working as a professor’s research assistant, and then studying for a few hours in the library- all you really want to do is sleep.

But then he calls.

The night is suddenly brimming with possibility, and you’ve never been more awake.

On a whim, Ransom suggests ice cream, and because you can’t bring yourself to deny him, you end up at a place that you would never go for- where everything is handmade and served in thick paper cups with multicolored plastic spoons, but he pays, because of his stupid ego or fragile masculinity or whatever the hell, so you don’t care.

He stands next to you as you order, and his shoulder keeps on brushing into yours. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. In the glass shield that the tubs of ice cream sit behind, you’re both reflected, your body warped and tall, his body warped and taller. In the glass, his eyes meet yours.

The tension is strong- it’s only a matter of time.

Your heart flutters.

When you sit, he bumps his knees against yours- you’re sure it’s on purpose, now, but you don’t say anything. What even is there to say?

That you like it?

When he digs into his ice cream, the plastic spoon- a green one- snaps in his hand.

And because you’re so caught up in your own ridiculous thoughts, before he can go back up to get another, you pull your own from your mouth- a pink one- and offer it to him.

The proposition makes him smile.

Why does he smile like that? Each movement, each twitch of muscle is so perfectly detached and coordinated- it’s violent.

But he still takes the spoon from you gently, with a soft hand.

He’s too pretty to be mean, you think, but against any type of judgement- not just the better kind- you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let yourself laugh and he scowls.

“This place sucks,” he says, like he isn’t the one who chose it.

He adjusts the womens’ scarf he’s always wearing, carefully arranging it over himself so it looks like it was carelessly thrown on. The blue in the paisley print brings out his eyes- it makes him look so stupidly hot that you start to get angry.

You just shrug. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

He puts your spoon in his mouth and looks at you.

Again, the night ends at his place- this time on an actual bed, because you ask for it, and you think he likes how you look when you ask for things in the current state state you’re in-

He fucks you in the dark, and swears into your ear, and is not kind or soft in any way, but after he finishes, he takes the time to kiss the spot in between your breasts, and you think that maybe he isn’t entirely horrible. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, and his mouth is always hot.

You leave without a word.

***

He takes you out this time, in a real, urgent show of wealth- he picks you up in his fancy car, takes you to a fancy restaurant where the numbers next to the fancy menu items are all appalling, where he spends the whole time making these awful, unfunny innuendos that still manage to rile you up, because they’re coming from his mouth-

On the way back, while waiting at a stoplight, you take a deep breath and brace yourself before looking at him.

He really is gorgeous- all lazy grace and harsh angles. The light colors his face red, red in his eyes and in the plane of his cheekbone and in the slope of his mouth- like a beautiful warning sign. His hands are carelessly draped over the steering wheel and, despite the warning, you reach out and trace a finger over his knuckles.

His whole body jerks.

You quickly draw your hand back.

“What?” he asks sharply. He’s staring at you like you’re crazy.

You don’t know why this is suddenly so fucking embarrassing, all you did was touch him- but you suddenly feel terrible, and-

“Nothing,” you say, with the same tone, and whip your head away from him to the window, where you smolder in the dark and furiously stare at nothing.

The light turns green. He takes his foot off the break and all but slams it on the gas pedal, driving as atrociously as ever, looking over at you for a split second when you don’t protest. The blood rushing in your ears is too loud for you to think- you can’t form any words.

Once it subsides, marginally, you add, “Sorry.”

His jaw tenses.

You look back over at him, at his ring, and imagine it pressing into your neck.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he suddenly asks- suddenly demands, with a blazing authority that makes your stomach do flips.

You don’t know what answer he wants. “Um, one time I snuck out of-“

“Let’s do something crazier.”

On an abandoned road, he pulls over, and then you’re under him in the backseat- doing something crazier.

You might have some type of psychic tendencies, because his ring presses heavy into your neck as he pushes himself inside you, starting at a bruising pace, and then he says your name in the dark, and he looks so beautifully flushed, startling when you grab his hair, laughing when your hand accidentally skims his thigh, smiling when you come-

You wish you had the resolve to put an end to this.

You wish you could stay when it’s over.

***

You don’t like his house.

It’s not the brownstone you imagined, but rather a huge, minimalistic box, with too many windows and spotless paint and modern wood fixtures. Ransom has all of these customary rich-person things, including stately furniture and eclectic art pieces and tall shelves stuffed with books, but owning any actual personality has escaped him.

Standing in his house feels like standing in an empty room- it’s all so apathetic.

Still, you show up when he calls.

You haven’t done anything this bad before.

But there’s a first time for everything, right? First time for enjoying bruises and biting and an unwavering grip on your neck or hips or waist or thighs, first time leaving something so intense so awkwardly.

Each time is worse than the last, with the awkwardness spiraling, accruing beyond reason, and each time you struggle with what to say- even now, you just do your best to stay quiet as you start to get up, reaching for your clothes-

Ransom drapes a heavy arm over you before you have the chance.

“You can stay,” he says flippantly, and then shifts to pull you close to him, so that you are suddenly lying bare-backed against his chest, so that his sweat-slick body and heartbeat imprints itself on your skin.

Is he asking?

You crane your head over your shoulder to get a look at him.

He returns your stare like he’s been waiting for it.

His face is still flushed pink and a lock of hair hangs low over his forehead, and if you were any braver, you would comb a hand through it, gently, with no real intentions. He’s breathtaking. Even the new, foreign purple under his eyes is a sight- pretty like something you would want to kiss.

“You want me to stay?”

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. You would lick the sweat from the divots of his neck, if he asked you to.

“Or leave, if you want. I could care less.”

He cares

You know it because his grip is unwavering, because the terseness in his eyes is enough to make you look away.

Eventually, you settle a hand over his arm and try your best not to tremble. Ransom mumbles something under your breath- you can’t make any of it out, but you don’t ask him to repeat it, for the fear that it’ll upset this fragile bedroom balance you’ve so painstakingly built yourself into-

He wants you to stay.

“Are you okay?” you ask, because you don’t think he is.

He inhales. You feel his chest against you; it’s shaky. You wonder, for a second, about who he might actually be, underneath the arrogance and egotism and constant need to be an asshole- is he someone you could like without feeling bad about it?

“Yeah,” he says, and throws his other arm over you, so that he is holding you. “Why?”

There isn’t a genuine bone in this man’s body, but he genuinely sounds confused.

It’s possible that you’re the one who isn’t okay.

“Because,” you say, and take a great leap of faith- holding your bare heart in your hands, you turn to face him.

You’re fully exposed and subjected to his gaze- it’s nearly eviscerating. His eyes dip down to your chest and something like insecurity flares in your chest. It’s awful and terrible and you urgently want to kiss him on the lips.

He always kisses you first. You don’t know if you have it in you to kiss him yet.

You wouldn’t ever try, in case you don’t.

“You look kind of tired,” you say, and his eyes bore into you with a sinking weight, threatening to drown. One of his hands finds a blooming bruise on your skin and lightly presses. He doesn’t react when you wince. The action is still kind- almost tender.

He sighs, and it is such a delicate breath, fanning hot over your skin.

“I’m not tired,” he says, almost childishly.

You might be overstepping. But you don’t even know where the lines have been drawn.

“Okay,” you say, and because you would not dare kiss his lips, you lean close and kiss his jaw instead.

He startles and then gives you a crooked, lazy smile. He is everything good, you think- for this one moment. Pretty and soft-handed and made of glass and honey and all other lovely things.

You tuck your head in the crook of his neck and wrap an arm over his, tight, so he knows you are there, and hope for the best.

***

In your spare moments, you’re always thinking.

Ransom knows this because of how you look when you do it- your brow furrows and your eyes go glassy, and you frown with an intensity that he has never seen on anyone else.

It happens when you finish a sentence, when you have no response for him, when he is still talking but you’ve stopped listening. When you think it’s quiet.

It never happens during sex- is it pathetic to take pride in that?

As he stands in your apartment for the first time ever, you look like you’re in near-despair, like your thoughts are wreaking havoc on your mind, destructive and distressing. You wear basketball shorts and a college sweatshirt and glasses.

He didn’t know you wore glasses, and that you looked like this in them- he’s been missing out.

“Hi,” you say, and stare at him with troubled eyes.

Your apartment is so small. He almost feels claustrophobic, standing in here. When was the last time he willingly stood somewhere so small?

The lengths he’ll go to, for…

For you, he supposes.

“Hi,” he says, and wonders, also for the first time ever, what it is that you’re always thinking. “Why do you have so many plants?”

On the windowsill, with even spacing in between, sits an entire row of glass jars housing plants- all singular flower stems, some budding, some in bloom. The petals of a marigold brush against the window, orange against the grey outside. It’s cute, he absently thinks, in a struggling, shabby type of way.

“It’s just something I do for fun,” you say, sounding irritated. “Like, a hobby.”

Infringing on the living room space is a small table, cluttered with textbooks and pens and an open laptop with its screen dark.

It still baffles him that you’re smart.

“So,” you start, and cross your arms over your chest. He feels kind of offended, because he’s just realized that he really only knows a handful of things about you, and even that handful is sparse, slipping through his fingers. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He called on impulse.

He’s just- he’s in what someone could call a mood, where he hates everything and has the intense desire to ruin something, and while he was thinking of how to fix it- beyond just getting wasted- he thought of you.

And when he called, you were sounding so tired and so he even said he could just meet you here, so you wouldn’t have to drive, so you could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying before he inevitably invades your mind-

Easily, he deflects. Nearby, there’s a hallway with two doors, one of which is tightly closed shut.

“What’s in there?” he asks, and points towards it.

You relax, slightly.

He wants to gather you up in his arms, but he doesn’t know for whose sake- his or yours?

“That’s my brother’s room,” you say, and your shoulders slump, and he resists the urge to pull you upright, and the urge to gawk. Brother? “He lives with me. But he’s studying abroad this semester.”

“Where?”

“Prague.”

He nods. This is a stiff, perfect, shocking distraction. “Nice city.”

You nod distantly and head back to the table to put your things away.

“Yeah,” you say, after too long of a pause, as you start to cap pens and set them aside. You look at him as you do it, and so you miss a few times, accidentally drawing dark lines of ink all over your fingers. “I’m glad he got to go. When we were kids, he was obsessed with wanting to travel- he had this entire map in our room, and he would draw stars over every country he wanted to visit, and there were, like, a hundred of them, and he could list every single one, in the exact order he wanted to visit, and he could even list the capitals- I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this.”

He doesn’t.

Or, he shouldn’t, but your eyes are clearer, and as you neatly stack your textbooks in an order only known to you, he is almost intrigued.

He’s longing for you- when you are right there.

He feels like a person outside of himself, when you look at him and smile tiredly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There’s a cheesy ‘90s horror movie you find after a few minutes of channel surfing, complete with terrible special effects and edited-out profanity. The days are longer, now, and to stop the sun from casting a glare over the screen, you close all the blinds. It adds to the atmosphere, you say lightly, fully phased out of whatever just possessed you, and his hands are so itchy- itching to do something.

He sits. Patience is a virtue, but he is not virtuous, and so when you sit next to him and bring your knees to your chest, making yourself small, he goes to-

Something in his stomach stops him.

It’s butterflies- is he actually nervous?

This is so fucking infuriating.

You’ve got him trapped in some type of pain-and-power-play, some type of unassuming purgatory, and all he can bring himself to do is lightly brush a hand against your shoulder. You smile at his touch and his heart fucking breaks.

As the second boy in the friend group gets murdered onscreen, you close your eyes and duck your head into your knees.

“Tell me when it’s over,” you say, voice muffled.

“Scaredy-cat,” he says, even though this is no time for jokes.

You crack one eye open, looking only at him, and give him the finger.

Come here, he almost demands. The butterflies protest- he holds his tongue.

The dance continues. When the sun sets, everything darkens, settling into a dim blue. You look like something out of a painting. Faintly sad, unusually serene. The skin around your eyes has smoothened- you’ve stopped thinking so hard and he can suddenly breathe easier because of it-

And then there’s a jumpscare, and he shouts, “Jesus!”

The murderer has broken down a door, and all of the remaining characters are screaming, and you burst out laughing.

He’s in the middle of a crisis, and you’re laughing.

You lean into him as you laugh, with your head turned away from the screen and your eyes open, looking at him so fondly that he suddenly feels violated, and you let your shoulder brush against his.

“Scaredy-cat” you tease, and it’s absolutely now or never-

You’re making him weak- it takes too much time and effort for him to draw an arm over you.

You don’t flinch, but he is sure that you can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, without abandon, like it's trying to break free of his ribcage. He almost gasps when you come even closer and lightly kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around him, and his head is just saying yes yes yes-

Your mouth goes over his ear, lips ghosting over skin. He waits, more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life, for what you have to say.

***

So this is Ransom’s deep, dark, ugly secret.

He likes to be cuddled.

If it were anyone else, you would laugh.

But it’s Ransom, and so you just take it in stride, as part of his extremely fucked-up psyche that is probably a result of a hundred things he’ll never tell you- childhood trauma and neglect and the consequences that come with having more money than you need or deserve.

He’s always talking, always talking shit, always talking over you and over everyone else, and you realize, one day, that he really only is treading water- he’s only focused on staying afloat, speaking whatever he wants, but never actually saying anything.

He’s responsible for his faults, of course. But still, when he smiles in low light or curls his hands over yours so viciously, you don’t know if you should leave, or if you should just stay and pity him quietly.

You’re starting to like him too much to even care.

He starts coming around more. And he actually stays, and starts leaving pieces of himself behind. He has a toothbrush next to yours and a phone charger on his side of the bed and imported, undoubtedly expensive snacks in the kitchen.

He leaves clothes, too- you wash them with yours and keep them, neatly folded, in your closet.

On a warm day in May, he meets you at a cafe.

He does most of the talking, like always. It’s been months, already, but you still find it difficult to start conversations.

You still have trouble telling him certain things without feeling like you have to defend yourself, and he still rarely deviates from being a total dick, even when you hold him or have his head in your lap, when you make him laugh or when you kiss him.

Or when you put your hands in the sleeves of his sweaters and rub your palms against his forearms, because he’s always running warm and your hands are always cold.

He always acts like it annoys him, jumps when your hands meet his skin- but you know he secretly likes it, because whenever you’re done he pulls the hems all the way over his hands and looks at you with something amazed in his eyes.

With the weather warming up, he’s ditched the sweaters and taken to wearing these awful fucking short-sleeved button-downs, all unnecessarily tight and showing way too much collarbone. He’s making you sweat.

“You’re staring,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied.

You bring your straw to your lips and shake your head. “I’m not.”

He knows that you can’t help it- he is always so gorgeous. He’s infuriatingly pretty.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and nudges your foot under the table, voice suddenly low, and it’s like, holy shit-

You bring your drink down and lean over the table, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and kiss him quickly.

He tastes like bitter coffee.

You’re sad, all of a sudden.

When you settle back in your seat, you clear your throat like nothing happened. You want to lean in again and button up the rest of his shirt, and kiss him again. You want to come so close that your noses touch, and then yell at him, just for being him.

He looks appalled

“What was that for?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever done this.

“No reason,” you say. “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it,” he repeats, and it’s like the same reaction from the night at the stoplight, and you realize-

He’s dumbstruck.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. He sets his jaw like he’s about to get up and leave. You try not to scowl, even though you feel like you’re drifting, tide carrying you away, sand clean and smooth on where your body once was-

It gets to you.

“Can I not just kiss you?” you snap harshly, glaring at him with a ferocity you don’t think he’s ever seen.

It’s inevitable- the result of months of frustration. You can only suppress yourself for so long. Why, you want to ask, why are you not entitled to him the way he is to you and everything else? Can you not ask for him so wholly?

He flinches.

Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire, flinches.

It brings a small sliver of satisfaction with it. There’s some nerve you’ve struck, and the discontent on his face is steadily growing-

You pay it no mind, drinking the rest of your iced coffee in calm silence.

Outside, the day is vaguely summery, where the sun is out and strong, but still too cold in the shade. You stare past his head, towards the door. How quickly can you leave?

“You can,” he says quietly, when you’re rising to throw your cup in the trash. “Whenever you want.”

His eyelashes are so long- they command a moment of attention all on their own when he blinks- soft and slow and gazing at you from underneath them. You wonder if he is doing this for the same reason you are. If he’s lonely, too.

When was the last time you had the dream with the bird?

You smirk. “Whenever?”

He is forlorn.

You like him better in the spring.

“Whenever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, and make your voice low, since two can play at that game.

He considerably perks up.

***

When you wake up, he’s still in your bed.

Lately, he’s been spending more time at your place than his. You think that all those windows are finally starting to get to him.

Ransom always holds you fiercely in his sleep. You break free as gently as you can and take him in for a brief moment- you like how he looks when he’s asleep. Unconcerned, chest rising slow with each breath, hair splayed over the pillow in nearly every direction. He almost looks innocent.

You get up quietly, even though there’s no chance he’ll stir- he sleeps like the dead.

Daylight filters through the blinds in white-yellow streams, dappling him golden.

You almost take a picture, but regretfully leave the room for other tasks- you stretch and water your plants and check your email, and then sit down at the table to Skype your brother.

He picks up fast.

“Hey!” you say, and at once feel so much relief, to see his grainy, smiling face on your laptop screen.

Europe has done him good- he’s grown out his hair, and his skin is glowing, and he looks so happy.

He tells you about what he’s been doing lately, studying architecture. It makes you so proud, this fact alone- that unlike you, he can do whatever he wants and doesn’t have the looming promises of debt and academic burnout and crushing, ever-present stress hovering over his shoulders. It is so good to see him, and you are so grateful that he can be who he wants to be, do what he wants to do-

“Holy shit, who is that?”

He’s looking past you. You turn around and almost jump-

Ransom stands in the kitchen, shirtless and rummaging through the cupboards. He waves at you.

You would think that someone like Ransom would exclusively sleep in, like, silk pajama sets, or something, but at least he’s in sweatpants- however low-rise they might be, however loosely knotted the drawstring is. It’s better than nothing, at least- what if he had walked out in nothing?

When you turn back to the screen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your camera feed- you look absolutely mortified.

You are absolutely mortified. This is the start of what can only be a nightmare.

“Are you dating that guy?” your brother asks incredulously. He’s still staring at Ransom with his jaw hanging loose. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” you say forcefully, without thinking. “That’s, um... “

Hopelessly, you gesture back towards him, trying to come up with the words. Nothing feels right in your mouth- every title you can come up with is too consequential, too heavy.

“...That’s Ransom.”

“Weird name,” your brother says, and grins.

You take a breath that feels more like a gasp. “I know.”

“Hey,” Ransom says, from the back, and continues to loudly open and close the cupboards- what the fuck is he even looking for? You don’t keep enough shit in there to warrant this much noise- he’s doing this for theatrics.

“I think I’m going to go,” you say loudly. “Love you.”

“Bye,” your brother says, and he’s grinning stupidly, like a madman.

You disconnect and feel like you might faint.

Not your boyfriend, right?

“Was that your brother?” Ransom asks, casually, finally finding what he was looking for- two mugs. There is no way that he didn’t come across them earlier.

“Yeah- yes,” you say shakily. It feels like someone has filled your brain with fizzy water.

There’s a few boys your brother has met over the years, but you’ve always been careful. Because an introduction is like making a statement- it’s like saying that this person you’re with is important enough to you that they’re going to overlap, exist in more than just one part of your life.

But Ransom is a catastrophe of a person- you can barely handle him as he is. How could you ever have him as anything more?

He goes through the cupboards, again, and finds a box of teabags. “The one studying abroad?”

“I only have one brother,” you snap.

“Okay,” he says, totally unbothered, surprising you. He’s not a morning person in the slightest- why is he being so cordial? “Where do you keep your kettle?”

“Second cupboard on the right,” you say, and bury your head in your hands.

He looks at you. He is so many things, but never kind, until now. His hair, in its adorable bedhead, flops over his eyes. Before, it was only almost, but now, you think, he looks completely innocent, like the type of guy you could give kisses without feeling nervous, the type of guy you wouldn’t deny as your boyfriend.

What is wrong with him?

What is wrong with you?

At the end of the day, he’s always there- you’re exclusive, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough to deserve a title?

He finds the kettle, and then sifts through the box. He sorts through different flavors with a gentle precision you’ve never seen before- is this really him? Is he the type of person that is gentle and precise?

The uneven smattering of blue-black bruises on your thighs say no.

You’re so confused that your head hurts.

“None of these flavors are any good,” Ransom says, and shakes his head. His hair shines in the morning light. “Earl Grey- who the hell drinks Earl Grey?”

“Don’t insult my tea like that,” you say, and he looks back at you and gives you a brilliant flash of a smile.

If he’s bothered at all by your denial, he never brings it up.

*** He’s too far gone.

He’s in freefall, feeling weak- he’s fucking succumbed.

To you. To your comebacks and the world-weary gaze you have of everything, to your nonsensical collection of plants and your painfully unattractive basketball shorts, to the way you laugh too loud and too little, to the way you say his name, where he can never tell if you’re happy with him or exasperated-

It’s wrong.

But, he thinks, so are all of these other things, like drugs and alcohol and blowing money on shit he doesn’t need- and you make him feel better than any of those things ever have, so why should anybody have a problem with it? A week goes by after you tell your brother that he isn’t your boyfriend- and it doesn’t bother him, because he’s never wanted that title in the first place, never has- but it obviously bothers you.

You’re disappointed in yourself, because you think you’re supposed to be better than him, because you’re so smart and he is so terrible.

He hopes that that’s not how you actually think. It hurts him to0 much to even consider it, and so he doesn’t, and so he thinks of how to keep his hold on you, and then he thinks of why he even wants to-

The truth is too apparent to deny.

After a week, he calls.

***

He’s very slow.

Not tired- just consumed with the sudden need to savor things. When you let yourself into his arms, Ransom treats you like you’re fragile.

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and as he stares, your voice reduces to something small. You go timid when his eyes are on yours, he realizes, and the thought sends a thrill through his body- he slowly rocks you, to calm himself.

Your shirt is off and you wear a bra with a small lace trim- not racy, but very cute- and he just keeps on staring.

Wow, he thinks. He fucked up good.

“Nothing,” he says, and moves one hand from your waist- he has you in his lap, straddling him- up to the top of your neck. He trails down and over to your collarbone, hooking a finger into your bra strap.

You laugh, breathy and indecent.

He lifts it, subtly, and you whine, and he bites back his own.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, and kisses your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ransom,” you gasp, with your hands splayed over his back. He slowly skims his hand over, to your back, feeling every little thing, dip and contour and curve, everything- and then unhooks it, and you are bared to him and he is breathless.

He takes you by the shoulders and twists, to bring you down, to pin you against the bed. Your comforter is dark blue, like ocean water.

Your eyes are endless, like ocean water.

“Are you upset about something?”

Your chest rises and falls and he almost reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but stops himself. He presses a wet kiss to one of your breasts, and you arch into his mouth. He feels like you know every single secret of his, when he has told you none.

You know by accident that he’s ticklish. That’s it.

“I’m not,” he says. “I promise.”

He bends low to kiss down the length of your body, repositions his hands to hold your waist. He thinks that this is more intense- it is just his mouth and your skin and the sound of your breath hitching.

He still has it put together, remarkably well- unfathomably well.

“I feel like there’s something you’re- ah- not telling me, honey.”

That does it.

He grips your waist harder, in the way he knows you always like, so that tomorrow he will be able to retrace his steps, follow the blue-

“Say that again,” he says, and presses a soft kiss over you- even through your underwear, with its delicate lace trim, he can feel how wet and wanting and ready you are for him.

“Say- fuck- say what?”

Your hand flails, for a second, before you thread it through his hair, and yank. It hurts, pleasantly.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and shimmies it down your thighs, and you instinctively spread your legs. He puts his mouth to your slit, slicker than he imagined, and the heady arousal rushing through his mind- and everywhere else- is nearly enough to make him forget what you even said-

He is quite possibly drunk off of you alone, and he wants to slap himself, and, like, press you so close into him that you forget your way out.

With the spare glow of one lamp, you look like you’re made of gold.

He breaks away from you for a terrible moment to strip, and with one hand he teases your clit, and with the other he pumps himself, hard, once, twice, three times in anticipation-

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, and comes back up to cup your face once more, and slips his hand back down into you at the same time, with his cock hard against your thigh- this is all quite slippery- the game you’re playing at and the risk he’s trying to take-

“Honey,” you say, and you’re smiling deliriously, but shakily. “Honey honey honey.”

“You’re killing me,” he says, and his voice, in a moment of terrible, vulnerable, unspeakable betrayal, cracks.

“Good,” you say, but your voice is all wobbly as he lines himself up and roughly pushes into you, holding you a little tighter to keep you steady. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you openmouthed, with his teeth scraping- it’s rough and jarring, the way you always take it. Against his mouth, you swear incoherently, stringing together a litany of curses with his name thrown in between, and goddamn him- it makes him smile.

He wastes no time- he can’t be patient any longer, not when he has you under him like this, and so he goes fast, snapping into you at a bruising pace and keeping his mouth close, and rubbing at your clit, to overstimulate you and make everything faster, harsher, more immediate-

When you come you always say his name, thickly with gravel in your voice, and gasp like the breath has been stolen from your lungs. This time, when you are so far gone that he thinks you’re beyond the realms of sound, and sight, too, with your eyes tightly screwed shut, he says it, for the sake of himself.

“I think I love you-”

310 notes · View notes

rainywritingsx · 4 years

Text

Scenario: Shoji, Todoroki and Midoriya protecting their very shy s/o

Request: Would you be okay writing about Shoji, Shoto and Izuku protecting a very shy s/o? Maybe someone is mean to them or there's something falling from somewhere. S/o can't stand up to ppl (maybe s/o is also not in the hero course but in u.a.?) thamk so much and have a nice day ~the one you matched with shoji btw lol

oh hi there :D this request is so cute, I hope I did okay with writing it! You didn’t specify whether you wanted a scenario or headcanon, so I went with scenarios, hope that’s okay. Have fun reading!

xxx Damla

Reminder that as of right now, requests are closed!

Warnings: none :)

words: 2670

If you’d like to give me a small tip, you can buy me a coffee! ^^

Shoji Mezo

As soon as the bell rang, I pretty much jumped out of my seat and left the classroom. Finally, I can leave. This class isn’t particularly my favourite, which is due to the fact that I don’t have any friends here. Most of them, as well as my boyfriend, are in the hero course.

When I arrived at my locker, I was surprised not to find Shoji waiting as usual. Maybe he had to train? Right at that moment my phone beeped. I opened my bag and took it out. Shoji had texted me.

I’m sorry love, I was training in teams with Tokoyami and he got injured. I will be there in 10 minutes

A soft smile spreads across my face. He really is one of the most caring people I know. While I’m not exactly happy to be alone, it’s most likely that some of Shoji’s classmates can be found in the cafeteria, so I will just go there.

I open my locker and quickly take out the books I need after lunch. Luckily there aren’t many, since I only have English and then PE. I close it again and zip up my backpack before making my way to the cafeteria. Luckily it isn’t that far, and the halls are empty.

I look outside out of the large windows. The sun is shining brightly, and it's clear that it’s spring. Many flowers have bloomed, and I see a lot of birds. There are people having their lunch outside, some are even training. Wow, that’s some dedication… My eyes land on Jirou, who is sitting at a table with Yaoyorozu. Our gazes meet and she smiles before patting the spot next to her. Alright, I guess I’ll eat outside too.

I make my way towards the door. It’s pretty heavy, but thankfully I manage to open it. I’m about to run up to the girls, but I freeze when I hear what I think is the door slamming against someone.

“Oi! What the fuck!” I turn around wide eyed, to see someone whom I thought to be a student of my homeroom class. I don’t remember his name, but he has never been very nice to me. Something gives me the idea that I’m in trouble. I gulp and slowly walk backwards on the grass, but soon my back hits a wall.

“I-I’m so-”

“you’re sorry?” he interrupts, taking a step closer to me. I cower slightly. His closeness is making me way too uncomfortable. “Yeah, you better be! Maybe if you stopped daydreaming about your stupid boyfriend from class 1-A you’d actually notice your surroundings.” I’m speechless. A billion thoughts are running through my head. I want to curse at him for talking about Shoji like that, but my body isn’t doing anything. It’s like I’m glued to the brick wall my body is resting against

“You’re gonna pay for-”

“It was an accident.” An indescribable amount of relief comes over me when Shoji stands in front of me. His right hand reaches behind him for mine, and I immediately hold it. It’s only now that I realise my hands had been shaking the whole time, just like my legs. The guy who was almost yelling at me a second ago, now has a smirk on his face but I can tell he’s a little intimidated.

“Still, your partner should look where they’re going.” I can’t see any of their faces, but by his posture I can tell that Shoji remains completely calm and unfazed as usual.

“Okay,” he calmly responds. “I’m sure you’ve given them enough of a scare, so they’ll be more careful in the future. Still, I don’t think it was okay for you to talk to them like that. That wasn’t exactly behaviour fit for a UA student.” he didn’t even comment anymore, but just bowed to us both and apologised, his tone shaky. Before I knew it he was gone. He was all talk, I knew it.

Shoji turns back to me, still holding my hand and I smile. “Thank you, Shoji.” I can see his eyes moving upwards a bit, which shows he’s smiling too.

“No need to thank me. I guess it isn’t always bad to look scary to people.” I can’t help but laugh at that. Shoji’s appearance is something that he’s insecure about, so knowing that he can joke about it a bit makes me happy.

However, I can’t help but feel bad for not being able to have said anything to that guy when he was insulting Shoji. And I was sure he heard it too…

“I’m sorry.” I sigh, looking down in shame. For a moment, there's silence. Then I see Shoji’s feet taking another step closer to me. His other hand grabs mine as well.

“Can you look at me, please?” his tone wasn’t demanding, rude, or angry. He’s calm, it’s a simple request. He gives me the idea that even if I said no it would be fine, but I look at him nonetheless.

“Y/n, I really don’t care that much about people like that. He doesn’t know me, or you. I only care about what you and the other people in my life think. You don’t need to defend me. I know people like that don’t change minds easily.” I have to admit that he’s right. I mean, I don’t even know his name, so why did I care that much?

“Let’s go, I saw you were on your way to Jirou and Yaoyorozu, right? Tokoyami is there too now.” I nod and Shoji is about to walk, but he stops when he realises I’m still standing. I smile and walk over to him, stand on my toes and kiss his cheeks. A giggle leaves my mouth when I see his eyes have widened. Even though I would usually have the same reaction, today is different.

“Yep, I’m ready now.”

Todoroki Shouto

Of course, as soon as one person found out I’m dating Shoto, the news spread around the school like fire. Of course I notice the glances at me in hallways, the quiet whispers, the way that people approach me now. Some act nicer, but there also some that seem to suddenly dislike me. And I can’t do anything about it.

In theory I can, but I’ve never been able to even tell someone that their tone was rude, or that something was uncalled for. I’ve even been called names sometimes, and when people see my flustered face, they laugh and throw more insults at me.

Despite all this, Shoto isn’t aware. I never told him, and I’m not planning to. He already has enough going on for him and what has been happening to me just seems like a mild inconvenience at this point. It’s times like this where I’m glad that he isn’t the type of person to keep pushing if he wants to know something.

And of course this happens today too, as I’m walking to the hero course department of UA. I can already hear some people snicker at the fact that I’m even here. I ignore it, because as usual, I don’t want to cause a scene.

My eyes scan the hallway. His classroom is supposed to be somewhere here, but where? Idiot, y/n, you had to ask him what class he currently is in. Now I have to check everywhere.

I don’t see any students from 1-A so he definitely has a class right now. At least I know something. I look through the windows in the doors, but every classroom is empty. Why are there even so many classes here? Maybe I can ask a teacher what subject 1-A has right now. Wait, but isn’t that weird? No, they probably know that I’m looking for Shoto.

In my train of thought, I completely forget my surroundings. So it’s no surprise that I bump into someone and fall on the ground. I hiss when my knees graze the floor, but then remember that that was a person that I bumped into. I look up and my eyes widen when I see Monoma from class 1-B. He looks down at me with a smirk and laughs at my confused state.

“Look who’s here. Looking for your boyfriend?” Without thinking, a billion apologies leave my mouth as I place my books that had fallen earlier back into my bag. My knees feel like they’re burning but I’m more worried about what just happened.

“Wow,” Monoma chuckles. I can feel his eyes on me as I finally zip up my bag and get up. “Can’t even walk properly. I knew that the other departments were losers, but this?” My grip on my bag tightens as he speaks.

“Well, at least you’re kinda good-lookingI guess. Still, I would’ve thought someone from 1-A would go for a person who’s way better than you.” In surprise, I lift my head up. Of course the thought of Shoto deserving better has crossed my mind before. He’s the son of the current number one hero, of course people expect someone who’s the opposite of me. I always try to tell myself it’s amazing I even got into UA at all, but at times I cannot help but wonder if it would be better for Shoto to leave me.

“You know it too, don’t you?” Monoma continues. “No need to tell me, I can see it in your eyes. You want to say so much, but you’re way too much of a coward to do it.” he laughs and looks away for a moment.

“That’s why everyone picks on you and your sweet prince charming has no idea. You can’t even stand your ground, how pathetic. Nobody understands what he even sees --” his voice trails of. Monoma moves his head to his side, and his grin widens.

“Ah, there he is, just as I was speaking about him!” I turn around and gasp when I see Shoto walking in our direction. Shit. He saw it all, didn’t he?

“Your prince charming just knows when to save you, huh? I mean, with such a weak significant other, I probably-”

“My classes are done, let’s go y/n.” Todoroki says, completely ignoring Monoma’s presence. He grabs my hand and is about to walk away.

“One more thing.” he says as he turns around and looks at him.

“Y/n is the best partner I could ask for, and if all you care about is what their education is, you are the disappointment here.” he glances back at me and grabs my hand with a small smile. “Let’s go.”

Midoriya Izuku

The silent aura of the library usually brings me at peace, but today, as I’m entering it by myself, I feel uneasy. A part of me feels like everyone’s eyes are burning through me. So, I keep my gaze down and just walk over to a random bookshelf. As I lift my head again and look through some books, I try nonchalantly scanning the library for any sign of my boyfriend, but Izuku is nowhere to be found.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I quickly grab it and see that Izuku texted me.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I had to help Kaminari with something related to Hero Studies. I’ll be there soon. I love you ❤︎.”

He’s too sweet. I text him back, assuring him that it’s okay and put my phone back in my pocket. Maybe I should pick one book and read it until Izuku comes here, or else I’ll be bored doing nothing. Also, I feel like people keep whispering about me here.

Izuku may not be the most popular student of this school, but people definitely know of him. I mean, he’s a class 1-A student, he worked at Nighteye’s agency, and has done more impressive stuff. So obviously, when he gets in a relationship people will talk about it. While I do get it, I also hate the attention it brings. People have been mostly nice to me luckily, so that’s a relief.

I decide to take a seat at a table with only a few people. It’s also close to the entrance door, so Izuku will be able to spot me easily when he gets here. After also placing my bag on the ground, I finally start reading. After what feels like a few minutes, but probably is a lot more, I’m already halfway through the thing.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice whispers. A smile can’t help but grow on my face as I turn my head to find Izuku standing next to me.

“Hi.” I reply. He smiles and kisses me cheek, to which my eyes widen. We’re in public, what is he doing? I quickly cover my face with the manga I was reading earlier, so people don’t see my embarrassed expression. Izuku only giggles softly.

“Babe, there’s almost nobody here.” he reassures me. “and I missed you.” he adds with a small pout. Ugh, I can’t be mad at him when he makes that adorable face.

“O-okay.” I close the manga and get up. “I’ll just put this back, and then we can start studying.” he follows me to the shelf.

“So, how was your day?” I ask as my eyes scan for the right manga series. Izuku starts telling me about his day, making me almost laugh a few times when he mentions some silly moments, like Sero and Kaminari trying to prank Bakugou but only failing and angering him as a result.

“Oh, and we will get to work with the other departments of the school for some projects, I’m really excited about that.” I smile. Yeah, that sounds fun.

“What is it for?”

“Well,” I accidentally bump into the bookshelf behind me and yelp quietly. “Mr Aiza-Y/n careful!” I squeeze my eyes closed, preparing for anything falling on top of me, but I feel nothing. My eyes open again and I look up. Izuku is holding some books that would’ve landed on me if he wasn’t here. His expression shows that he was a little scared, but soon relief takes over.

“I thought something was going to happen to you..” he sighed as he placed the books back on the shelf. I awkwardly stand up straight and fiddle with my fingers, mumbling a soft apology. Of course I had to be stupid and not take in my surroundings

“Hey, it’s okay.” he grabs my hands and smiles. “I’m not upset, I’m just glad you’re alright. Just be a little more careful next time, okay, honey?” I nod, trying to hide how flustered the nickname makes me feel and squeeze his hands softly. I look at his hands, and rub my thumbs over them. There are a few new bruises on there.

“Did you get hurt again?” I ask, examining his knuckles. Izuku chuckles awkwardly.

“I-It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I already went to Recovery Girl for it.” he lets go of one of my hands and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“I-Izuku, there’s people here…” I say hurriedly, hoping that nobody will see us. I’m not embarrassed by him, of course not. It’s just that I always feel a bit nervous when it comes to PDA.

“I have an idea. How about we study in my dorm room? Can I have cuddles then?” he asks sweetly while removing his hands from me. I nod softly.

“That sounds nice..”

“Okay, let’s get some of your favourite snacks first and then go.” my face lights up and I nod again.

“Let’s go.” I hear him giggle before we both leave the library.

“Oh, we can also get dinner together somewhere if you want, I’m sure there’s food in the kitchen or we can get take-”

“Izuku.” I stop him. “L-let’s get those snacks and study first.” he chuckles and nods.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just really happy we get to hang out again. Let’s go then, the grocery store is only a few minutes away from UA.”

#bnha x reader #shoji x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenario #shoji mezo x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #shoji scenario #todoroki scenario #midoriya scenario

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give-seconds · 3 years

Text

Timeless

Summary: Welcome to the Heartbreak Hotel! Where you can be treated for whatever wounds your poor heart has tolerated. Heartbreak Hotel has 23 employees, all of whom will be wholeheartedly devoted to healing your heart, after which you shall be asked to leave. Heartbreak Hotel not only offers never-seen-before deals and techniques, it also has special floors to regulate the healing of your heart!

This is part of the Heartbreak Hotel collaboration hosted by @nct-writers. This is my first ever collaboration and I had so much fun being apart of this. I hope you enjoy!

Paring: RenJun x gender neutral reader

Genre: angst with a happy ending, slight fluff

Warnings: Renjun works on the depression floor, so hopefully this is kinda sad.

Word count: 9.5K

---

“Hi y/n.”

You turn your attention away from your phone, looking up to see the new employee you would be working with. New day, new stage, new employee.

“As you know, my name is Renjun, and I’ll be working with you on this floor.”

Setting your phone on the table screen down, you watch as he pulls out the chair across from you. He’s young– like everyone else in the hotel– and as he sits down, you can’t help but notice how small he is.

“Want to tell me why you’re here?”

You laugh humorlessly, looking down at your sleeves as you play with them. “You know why I’m here, it’s all in the paperwork.”

He smiles kindly, crossing his legs. “What if I told you I haven’t read the paperwork yet?”

You crack a light smile. “Then I’d say you’re not the best at your job.”

He nods his head, his small smile still spread across his face. “Well then, why don’t you tell me what happened so I don’t get fired?”

Quite frankly, you hate that you’re here. You never understood the need for this place when a good friend is all you need. After all, why talk to seven different strangers, and relive the hurt seven different times when you can tell one person one time. One and done.

But what happens when it’s your best friend who breaks your heart?

“I would really prefer it if you talked to one of the other employees I talked to or read the paperwork. I can’t keep talking about this, I-”

You snap your mouth shut and close your eyes. You can already feel the tears burning your eyelids, and you bring your hands from your lap to hold your head in your hands, elbows resting on the table.

God, I hate crying.

“Y/n, I know this is hard. But talking about it makes it better, that’s why we have our seven floors. We believe it takes a least a week to get a proper grip on your heartbreak, to be able to go back out and be-” he brings his hands up in a gesture of quotation marks, “‘Okay.’”

“I get that, it makes sense. I don’t know what the people who come in here are normally like, but I can’t talk about my feelings that often. It’s too hard.”

“I get that. It’s a good thing I don’t like to jump into the touchy-feely stuff right away. So why don’t you tell me what happened?” He smiles softly, and like everyone else in this hotel, you can feel a sense of comfort radiating from him. “We don’t even have to talk about feelings if you don’t want to.”

You nod your head, dropping your hands onto the table. “My best friend, she cut me out. She stopped answering my texts and wouldn’t pick up my phone calls.” You scoff as the memory plays through your mind. “She even went as far as to stand me up the one time I was able to get through to her. She was too busy partying.”

“So that’s why you’re here?”

You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes. You feel so stupid talking with a stranger about your problems. Problems you should be solving on your own.

But it was eating you alive. Then one night, talking to a few strangers seemed less scary than sitting with those thoughts alone for another night.

“No, I’m here because I finally got the courage to tell her I was done if things kept going the way they were. That I was done being in a one-sided relationship.”

“How did that go?”

“It went well. She sent me a response saying she was sorry and that she never meant to hurt me. I thought it was going to be okay and that I was going to have my best friend back.” You smile sadly as her smiling face flashes through your mind. “You know she’s my oldest friend?”

He smiles, resting his head on his clasped hands. “Oh really?”

You nod your head. “I had moved to a new city so, of course, I didn’t have anyone. I joined a play to make new friends, and there she was. She’s everything I’m not, good and bad. I think I thought I could help her not be so sad. I thought I was, I mean, she told me I was. She told me I was special to her.”

“From my experience,” he says softly, “people don’t normally lie about that sort of thing. I’m sure you meant something to her. Now, of course, I’m not her so I can’t say for sure.”

You haven’t talked to many people about your recent heartbreak– specifically, only one person– but when you had, you had gotten a very stereotypical answer. “You don’t need her, she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

You appreciated the thought, but it didn’t help. Simply hearing that it would be okay and that she didn’t know what she was missing didn’t help fight the feelings of nothingness that threatened to take over.

“You’re right, neither of us are her, so we’ll never know. But you wanna know my theory?”

“Shoot.”

“I think I used to mean something to her. And then, she found someone else.”

His eyes softened, and if you had to guess, he had just figured out why you had moved to this floor.

“Okay y/n, here’s what we’re going to do. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of sitting here. So you’re going to give me a list of your favorite snacks– whether that’s chocolate, chips, fruit, or all of the above– and your favorite movie from your childhood.”

You stared at him, scanning his eyes. He didn’t say anything either, looking back at you with a calm expression.

You couldn’t understand. This hotel has been in business for three years now, and no doubt every employee is good at their job. If Renjun is any good at his job, he would have a pretty good, if not solid, idea why you had moved to the Depression floor. So why stop now?

“I don’t- why?”

He shrugs his shoulders, leaning back in his chair. “Well, when I’m sad, my favorite thing is to just go back to my childhood.”

“But don’t you want to know more? We didn’t even get into the root of it.”

He shifts in his chair, crossing his legs. “I know, but you said you don’t like feelings. Like you said, you have to recount this event multiple times. Right now, you’re in one of the hardest stages of this journey. You already passed through what, in my mind, are two of the hardest stages. There’s no doubt in my mind you’re tired and just ready for the hardness to end.

“Once you’re ready to move on, whether that's tomorrow or next week, you’ll be moving onto easier steps.” He smiles brightly. “Now, I don’t want you looking back on your time with me and thinking it was horrible. So, I was thinking, we could have a little party to bring some of the joy that comes in the later stages to us now.”

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t a party. When your friend sent you the details of this hotel, you read they offered “never-seen-before deals and techniques.” Until now, you couldn’t imagine what that meant.

Clearing your throat, you give Renjun one of the weakest smiles you’ve ever given anyone. He’s right, I am tired.

“Okay, sounds good,” you agreed.

He smiles brightly, standing up from the table. “Awesome, you’ll find my contact in the hotel app you downloaded. Text me your list and the movie, and I’ll see you when I get back from the store.”

You nod your head, waving back at him as he slips out the door.

You let out a deep breath, looking up towards the left, and fanning your eyes. Bringing your eyes to look at the door, you hit your hand against your chest above your heart twice. You appreciate his efforts. You appreciate the hotel’s efforts, but you’re so tired.

You’ve cried so much since you checked in, not to mention you’ve been in a foreign place for the past few days meeting new people every time you progressed with your heartbreak.

Just when you felt you were getting somewhere, you were moved to a different floor and had to get comfortable with a new employee. You understand why they did it; having specialists for each stage of heartbreak is a great idea.

A great idea in theory, but exhausting in practice

Shaking your head, you pick up your phone to start making a list of things you’d like him to buy.

---

“Come in,” you call, hearing a knock at your door.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Renjun says, walking into the room holding a bag of groceries in one hand and two sweatshirts slung over his other arm. “It took me forever to find this one thing, and by the time I had, of course traffic had to be terrible. So what started as a thirty-minute mission turned into an hour-long one.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I have anywhere to be,” you say, motioning to how you were sitting on the bed, the blanket pulled over your lap.

“I know, but I still made you wait.” He sets the bags at the bedside, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. He smiles widely as he takes the sweatshirts from around his arm and lays them out on the bed. “Now, on top of snacks, I also brought oversized sweaters. Take your pick!”

You look at the two sweatshirts, one yellow and one grey, before reaching out to grab the grey one and pulling it into your lap. I was starting to get a little cold.

Sticking your hand inside one of the sleeves, you smile at the soft feeling. “Is this why you asked to first meet me at six? You wanted to do this?”

He grabs the yellow sweatshirt and pulls it over his head as he answers. “Yeah. Most of the staff like to get to know new clients over lunch or dinner, but I like this method better. Breaks up the routine and spices up everyone’s life.”

You nod your head, looking up from the sweatshirt to him. You let out a small, ‘oh,’ realizing he was still sitting at the foot of the bed.

“You can sit here,” you say softly, patting the spot next to you.

He bends down to grab the bag before crawling to sit next to you, dumping the bag of snacks onto the bed between you two.

“What are these?” you ask, picking up a snack bag with Chinese characters on it.

“Oh, these are some of my favorite snacks from when I was little. I normally don’t buy them

when I go out for a client’s snacks, but I’ve been feeling particularly homesick lately.”

“You’re from China?”

“Yep!”

You tilt your head to the side, flipping the bag to look at the back. “How’d you end up working for this hotel?”

“My friend Chenle – he also works on this floor – told me about his cousin Kun who was starting this hotel with his friend Taeyong, who he met while studying abroad here in Korea. We thought it was a cool idea, so we dragged our other friend Yangyang down with us. It’s actually how most of the foreign members got here. Sicheng-Ge is Kun-Ge’s friend, Yuta-Hyung is Taeyong-Hyung’s friend, Shotaro is Yuta-Hyung’s friend, Mark-Hyung and Johnny-Hyung came through Ten-Hyung, and God knows how Ten-Hyung showed up.”

You snort, placing the bag back in the middle and grabbing one of the brown snack bags he bought for you. “That sounds fun. Do you all get along?”

“I mean, of course, we get along.” He pauses, pursing his lips in thought, before shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, I don’t really know some of the older staff that well, and I don’t know Sungchan or Shotaro that well either, but we all get along.”

“So it’s like you have a massive family gathering every day?”

“A family gathering.” He turns to you, smiling. “That’s a perfect way to put it.”

He looks down at the bedside table before twisting over and reaching for the remote. He hums as he scrolls through the apps, looking for a specific one. You watch silently as he flicks through them, trying to push back the sudden thoughts on why you're here.

Tonight is about watching a childhood movie and temporarily forgetting the heartbreak. Easy enough.

“Are you ready for the best movie night you will have here at Heartbreak Hotel?”

You smile at the excitement in his voice. He seems genuinely excited to watch this movie.

“Ready.”

He makes a point to dramatically press play before dropping the remote between you two and picking up one of the bags he bought for himself. He shifts around on the bed, pulling his knees close to him.

Suddenly, the closeness of the action hits you. You can’t remember the last time someone did something like this for you.

You love your friend who helped get you here, they mean a lot to you. But after your other friend started ignoring you, you had never felt so alone before. Loneliness turned to pushing people away, which meant you had no one to come and spend time with you. Maybe you were too good at convincing your friends you were okay, but you were hoping they’d surprise you with something.

You know you aren’t thinking straight, so you can’t help but think the fact your friend hadn’t tried to cheer you up and your best friend dropping you was because of you. Maybe you’re too boring, too serious.

You shake your head, quickly wiping away a few tears. No, now is not the time to be wallowing in self-pity. Not while watching a kid’s movie.

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt over your hands, not looking away from the movie. “I’m just so tired, Renjun.”

He nods his head in understanding. “I can imagine, it’s hard what you’re going through. Of course, I’m not forcing you to talk to me about it. I’m here to help you y/n, and if that is just sitting with you and watching movies then so be it. But it does help to talk about it, that’s why we’re here.”

You close your eyes, leaning against the wall. “I just feel stuck. I thought coming here would be hard. I mean, crying is one of the hardest things for me to do. Then I’m sitting here with you, and I want to tell you everything. There’s, um, there’s just this fear. If I tell you my thoughts, why I’m here, then along with those feelings come the feelings of self-pity. I’m so scared of self-pity, Renjun.”

“I know what you’re talking about, and I know how helpless that can feel. Truth is, we feel what we feel. Some things are good to ignore, like the urge I sometimes get to just punch Chenle or Yangyang.” You tilt your head to the side to look at him, and he smiles at you. “You’re right to be somewhat afraid of those feelings. It’s easy to let them consume you. But do you want to know my basic rule of thumb?”

You adjust your head to look back at the movie, watching mindlessly as the film plays in front of you. “Sure.”

“Give yourself two days to feel sorry for yourself, and if after two days those feelings are still there, pick yourself up and move on. Those feelings don’t have to be gone completely, but after two days you have to start living your life again.”

“Can those two days start tomorrow?”

“Of course y/n, we go at your pace.”

---

“Good morning y/n, fancy some ice cream?” Renjun asks, swinging the door open.

“Good morning Renjun.” You check the clock on the bedside table. “It’s 12:30 in the afternoon.”

“So?” He leans against the closed door, arms crossed. “I’m in the mood for ice cream and either I go with you or by myself. And if you ask me, talking to you is way more fun than talking to myself.”

“I don’t know Renjun, I’m kind of tired. Plus, I was hoping we could talk before I lose the courage to.”

He nods, uncrossing his arms and pushing off the door. “Okay, then change of plans. We talk first and then get ice cream.” He makes his way over to you, extending his hand out to you. “Either way, you should leave that bed and this room.”

You smile slightly, taking his hand as he helps pull you up from the bed. He smiles brightly, dropping his hand to his side. “We’re going outside, so if you need to grab anything for that, now’s your chance! I’ll be right out by the door, so when you’re ready, come and get me.”

Before you can say anything, he is already walking out the room.

“Renjun, wait.”

He turns around, a hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“Why are we going outside? I thought we were going to talk first.”

“We are.” He looks around the room before his eyes land back on you, a smile lighting his face. “You need a change of scenery.”

With that, he pulls open the door and walks into the hallway.

You tilt your head slightly, confused at the random action. You thought the first thing you two would do today would be to talk. He seemed like the kind of person to want to get the talking out of the way.

But now he’s taking you somewhere to get ice cream? You shake your head, bending to grab your phone from the bed before walking towards the door to pull on your shoes.

“That was fast,” he smiles, pushing himself off the wall.

“Yeah, I was already dressed so all I had to do was put my shoes on. If you weren’t in such a hurry, you would’ve seen that,” you tease.

He shrugs his shoulders, turning to walk down the hallway. “Had I done that, you might have objected. But look at us now.”

You chuckle at his statement, walking the rest of the way to the elevators in silence.

“Where are we going?” you ask as he pushes the down button.

“You’ll see.” He smiles, walking into the elevator.

When the elevator opens on the bottom floor, he leads you out and to the left towards a door with a sign “staff only” taped at the front. He pulls the door open, and walks in before holding the door open behind him for you. It’s a small room, with the only things inside being a white board hung on the wall and a door leading outside. Once you’re in, he takes the whiteboard marker from the top of a whiteboard and writes an RJ in one of the 7 boxes taped out on the board.

“You’re going to love this,” he says, pressing the pen back into its holder before walking to the door.

When you step out, you’re met with what you can only describe as a garden straight out of a movie. A gravel pathway led to what looks like a hedge maze. As he leads you towards the entrance of the maze, you reach your hand out to touch the bush.

He leads you past two doors built into the hedge, one on the left and one on the right. When you two reach the second set of doors, he pulls open the one on the left and motions for you to go in. Upon entering, you’re surrounded by hedge on all sides.

Opposite the door, a black metal bench sat in front of the hedge. Across from the bench and to the left of the door, a beautiful flower wall, full of white, peach, and red colored flowers covered a majority of the hedge.

“Renjun, it’s beautiful,” you marveled, taking a seat on the bench. “I didn’t know you guys had an area like this.”

He nods his head, taking a seat next to you, and looking at the scenery around the bench. “Yeah, it's really beautiful out here. There’s a section out here for each floor, and since we have multiple employees on each floor, it’s first come first serve. But I’ve used space assigned to another floor when Chenle or Mark-Hyung were using this one, so it doesn’t really matter.”

You nod your head. “I imagine that has caused some troubles.”

“No, surprisingly not yet.” He takes a deep breath, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him tilt his head up to the sky. “I always think better outside- it feels less confining. So I thought this would be a better place to talk as opposed to somewhere with four walls and a ceiling. You also don’t have to worry about others hearing you here. No one else signed in. With that in mind, feel free to start talking whenever you’re comfortable. We have all day.”

As soon as he’s done talking, a silence falls between you two. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes as you push back the thoughts telling you it was a trap. You know that by telling him everything, it would get hard. You knew the self-pity you were so scared of would worm its way in after every word you said to him.

Living with that would be better than how muted you felt now.

“I’m just tired and scared.” You start slowly, letting out a shaky breath. “My entire life, I’ve had trouble getting close to people. For as long as I can remember, I’ve only had two friends. I mean, sure, I had people who were nice to me and we could have nice conversations, but we weren’t friends. I’ve long since accepted that I’ll never be anyone’s first choice; my dad would pick my sister over me, my friend who sent me here would pick her childhood friend, and my friend who left picked her other friends over me.”

You quickly wipe your eyes, taking a deep breath before you continue. “I don’t care about that- it is what it is. I just never expected her to leave me like that, to just cut me out of her life. When she first started doing it, I told myself I was fine. I’m not dumb I know that it isn’t solely my fault she distanced herself. She has a hard life, and I’m sure that’s a major reason this is happening– I’ve already worked this out on the anger floor– but at the same time, I can’t help but think it’s because of me.”

A sob escapes your mouth, and you bring your hand to rest against your forehead. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try and get your breathing under control again.

You’re sick of crying, it’s all you’ve been doing this past week. If you weren’t crying, you were ignoring the numb feeling that has made a home in your gut. The same feeling that took away some of the joy you should be feeling at all the genuine acts Renjun and the rest of the staff have shown you.

You’re sick of living with muted feelings.

“You already said you knew it wasn’t because of you that she did what she did. I know it’s hard, but don’t backtrack on those feelings. Don’t let the hurt you feel from losing a friend turn those thoughts around on you.”

You lean forward, placing your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. “I know, I know, but it’s so hard. It’s just, my mom and I aren’t on the best of terms right now. I mean, there was a time in my life when she would just leave for months to go on vacation by herself.”

You shake your head hoping to straighten out your thoughts, sitting back up. You wipe your eyes, pushing back any thoughts of how you must look right now. “It’s like, every night before I fall asleep, I’ll remember a funny or happy moment we had together. With that memory, the reality that I can never go back to a time when she wanted me hurts. Which makes me come full circle to if it took my mom years to even want to be around me, doesn’t it make sense that the same thing that pushed her away since birth pushes one of my closest friends away?”

The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t blame him for being at a loss for words, frankly, you have no idea what you’d say to someone in your position. Even if it is his job, having strangers pour their hearts out to him probably never gets easy.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, his lack of words making you feel anxious you had said something wrong. “It’s just I-”

Before you could continue your explanation, Renjun cuts you off. “Don’t apologize to me unless you do something to hurt me or the people I care about.”

You turn your head to face him, the sincerity in his voice surprising you. He flashes you a quick smile before turning his attention back towards the wall in front of him.

“With regards to your friend, I think what you need to do is practice taking a break from the problem. Clear your head and then approach it from an outside view. To give you a head start on that outside view, let me offer you mine.

“I don’t know the whole story, so feel free to call me out on anything wrong. But sometimes people just leave because their lives are going in different directions. You told me she has a hard life, so maybe her cutting you out is just an unfortunate consequence. This can be said about your mom and her- some people are just self-destructive and scared. Maybe they saw their relationship with you as something that will last a long time. Something like that can be scary to some people, so if I had to guess, part of them leaving is tied to them being scared. I’m not asking you to forgive her or to ignore your feelings on the relationship, but maybe if you can look at it as the result of someone hiding from their fear, it could help you.”

You nod your head, letting the words sink in. You don’t know if you’re ready to accept that reasoning- or if it’s what you’re even looking for- but it’s nice to hear something different than what your mind is telling you.

“I know losing a friend is hard,” he continues, not looking away from the flower wall in front of you two, “but by the time you are out of this hotel, you’re going to realize that it has nothing to do with your personality. I know this is only the second day we’ve spent together, but I like being around you. I’ve had many people come through here, some good and some bad, and I can confidently say you’re part of the good group. I’m not just saying this because it’s my job, but I enjoy spending time with you y/n.”

After he finishes talking, you quickly wipe away the hot tears escaping from your eyes. You have a few people you know you romanticize in your mind. There was the boy from your sixth-grade math class who walked you to your next class, arm wrapped around your shoulders as you bawled your eyes out about another fight you had with your mom. There was also the girl you met at summer camp who was a complete stranger to you, yet took the time to walk you from the cafeteria to your cabin after you threw up from food poisoning. They’re both perfect examples of that romanticization.

Those had been random acts of kindness during times you thought you were alone. Each time, you remember being amazed there were people like this around you. People brave enough to help someone they didn’t know.

Once again, you feel your heart warm from the same type of kindness, and you find yourself struggling to comprehend how someone can be so nice.

Renjun takes a deep breath and looks over at you, breaking you from your thoughts. “Not that there’s any rush, but is there anything else that you wanted to tell me?”

You quickly shake your head, taking deep, shaky breaths to try and stop crying.

He nods his head, a shining smile breaking out across his face. “I don’t know about you, but I think the only thing that can make us feel better is ice cream. So how about, when you feel up to it, we go and get some?”

You nod your head, sniffling once. “Okay, just- just give me a second, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Again, there’s no rush. We move at your pace, however fast or slow that is.”

---

“Having trouble deciding?”

You glance at the stranger to your left before looking back at the assortment of teas. “I guess so.”

“Well this one,” the stranger says, pointing to one of the boxes of black tea, “is my personal favorite. If you’re in the mood for something without caffeine, this is the tea to go. If you want chai, we have milk in the fridge– which I suggest you use instead of water– with one packet of sugar, and you have yourself the best chai tea ever.”

You laugh softly, leaning against the counter. “Sounds like you know your stuff.”

He smiles, reaching for the black tea he pointed to. “Kim Doyoung is the name, tea is the game.”

You snort, pushing off the counter and reaching for the chai tea. “Well Doyoung, I’m excited to try your recipe.”

“If you’re disappointed, you can file a complaint against me. You’ll find me on the Reconstruction floor,” he jokes, his back turned to you as he pours hot water from the water dispenser into his cup.

“Noted. And since you’re a staff member, you aren’t going to kick me out if I use the stove and one of your pans to heat some milk, are you?”

“It’s the public kitchen, so you don’t have to worry about anyone kicking you out,” he chuckles, walking to one of the small tables and taking a seat. “As long as you wash the pot out, we don’t care what you do.”

“Good to know.”

Walking over to the refrigerator, you sigh softly as you pull open the door.

It’s been a long day.

Grabbing the milk from off the side rack, you use your foot to hold open the door as you pour some milk into your cup. Once you’re finished, you screw the lid back on and move to put the milk back.

“Oh, you can keep it out. I forgot I was going to add some to mine.” He smiles as he pushes himself up from the table. “I don’t even know why I sat down.”

You chuckle. “I feel that.”

Squatting down to open one of the cupboards to look for a pot, you wince slightly at the sound of pots hitting each other as you move the pots to get to the smallest one. “Not to sound mean, but shouldn’t you be helping someone?”

“I could say the same thing about you, I mean, you’re down here all by yourself. Do I need to get someone fired? ”

You place the pot on the stove and pour in the milk from your cup. “Fair point. But luckily for you, you don’t have to fire anyone. I practically had to chase him away so I could have a moment by myself.”

He chuckles, pouring some milk into his tea. “May I ask who you have?”

“Renjun.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Renjun,” he chuckles, pulling open the fridge to put away the milk. Turning around, he leans against the counter, picking up his cup to take a drink. “You got lucky with him, he’s my second favorite of the younger staff.”

You snort, tearing a sugar packet and pouring it into the milk. “Who’s first?”

“Jeno. He works on the floor above Renjun’s.”

“Well, if I get the opportunity to work with him I’ll be sure to tell him he has to live up to the expectations set by tea king Kim Doyoung.”

“Please do, it’s been a while since I’ve told him I’m proud of him.”

You smile, turning off the heat and moving the pot to a different burner.

“I just realized,” he says, pulling you from your thoughts. “I never asked for your name.”

“Oh, I’m y/n.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you y/n. It’s nice to have someone to share my tea knowledge with.”

“Are you telling me that in a hotel of 23 men, there is no one else who likes tea?” you ask sarcastically, pouring the milk into your cup and dropping the teabag in.

“There are, they just don’t like to listen to me. They tell me I’m too bossy.”

You let out a loud laugh, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. You look over to him, and he simply nods his head, a knowing look spread across his face.

You clear your throat, turning your attention back to your tea, stifling laughter as you pour a sugar packet in. “That sounds sad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, they don’t know what they’re missing.”

You nod your head, tossing the packet into the trash and moving the pan to the sink to wash it. “That’s a good attitude to have, stay strong.”

“I’m as good at being petty as I am at anything else.”

You snort, squirting some soap onto the sponge to wash the pot. “Are you open to some feedback?”

“Go for it.”

“Okay, well for one, I don’t think that’s a good thing. And two, I don’t think that’s a saying.”

“All valid points,” he starts, and you hear the clink of what you assume is him putting his cup on the counter, “but let me tell you why they aren’t actually valid. Petty is how I’ve made my way in this hotel. Ten is something else, and I may have picked up a few things from him. Secondly, I don’t know what’s a saying and what isn’t, so that has no effect on me.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“It does.”

You chuckle, turning off the water, and placing the pan on the drying rack. “Well, I can say you’ll have no trouble staying strong.”

He dips his head in a thank you, and you laugh softly. Drying your hands on the towel hanging on the oven handle, you turn around to grab your cup.

“Well, I’m going to go up now, I have books to read and TV to watch. Thank you for the tea recommendation, I’ll be sure to try the other ones you pointed out.” You nervously pat the side of your cup twice, letting your eyes wander around the room before looking back at him. “This might be kinda weird considering this is our first time meeting, but thank you for having this conversation. It was nice to talk to someone who isn’t involved in my life. That, and you made today slightly less awful.”

He smiles, and you’re finally struck by how beautiful it is.

Renjun’s smile always struck you as a warm, comforting one. It fit perfectly for the floor he worked on. Doyoung’s, however, is different. While he still radiates comfort, his smile is more of a hopeful one. The kind that brightens even the worst days.

“I’m glad I could help. It was lovely talking with you y/n, and I hope I get to work with you when you reach my floor. It would be nice to see you again.”

You smile, rubbing your finger against the side of the cup. “Yeah, it would be nice to work with you. Maybe have a tea party where we talk about our feelings and my journey here.”

He laughs, walking up to you and tapping his cup lightly against yours. “I look forward to it.”

---

“I brought strawberries,” Renjun sings, opening the door.

You smile softly, pausing the show you were watching and patting the spot in front of you on the bed. “What’s with you and randomly showing up with food?”

He shrugs, placing one hand on the wall to balance himself as he uses his feet to take his shoes off. “I think spontaneous food is good for healing the soul. Trust me, I’m an expert.”

“Expert,” you repeat, laughing at his choice of words.

“Speaking of experts,” he says, taking a seat in front of you and placing the container of strawberries between you two, " I heard from Doyoung-Hyung that you two talked. How was that?"

"Well, for starters, he said Jeno was his favorite."

He snorts, picking up a strawberry. "That's nothing new."

"Isn’t Doyoung one of the members you said you don’t know very well?” you ask, taking a bite of the strawberry in your hand.

He nods his head, covering his mouth with his hand as he finishes chewing. “All the younger staff have an older member they’re particularly close with, and then the rest range from comfortable to the most awkward situation you could ever be in. Funny considering we have those parties when a client leaves, so you think we’d all be close by now. Anyway, me and Doyoung-Hyung are somewhere in the middle of that scale.”

“You guys really are like a family.”

He nods his head, placing another stem into the bowl he brought with him. “How’d you sleep last night?”

You smile softly, picking up a strawberry so you would have something for your hands to play with. “If you’re talking about if I thought about her or not, I did. I know it was earlier in the day, but I even almost texted her. That’s why I texted you asking if I could use the kitchen, I wanted something to distract me.”

“How do those memories make you feel?”

“Sad.” You laugh humorlessly, running your finger over the leaf. “I have photos on my phone from when we permed her hair. Most of those photos are of her, but the ones I’m in, you can see I’m laughing. It was such a fun day, we laughed so much. I thought I was getting better about the whole situation, but then I saw those photos, and I realized I’m still stuck in that time. And like I said before we talked in the garden, I can’t stop feeling sorry for myself now that I’ve vocalized the connection I feel between her and my mom. I normally have pretty good self views, but once I get an idea like this in my head, it’s so hard to get it out.”

“My first piece of advice is to be more gentle with yourself. Remember, today is your second day of sitting with those feelings. I think to start moving on from this stage, you have to be in tune with what you’re feeling. If you aren’t aware of what it is that’s hurting you, it will come back to you later. As much as I like being with you, I don’t want to see you here again.”

You smile softly, taking a small bite of the strawberry to try and distract yourself from the tears pricking at your eyes. “Thanks, Renjun.”

“My second piece of advice,” he says, tapping your knee to bring your attention up to him, “don’t hide from the memories. Even if you can’t go back to that day, doesn’t mean you don’t have to ignore those memories completely. I know it isn’t the same, but I have a photo from my friend’s birthday party from like five years ago back in China. It’s of me, my friend, and some guy he was friends with at the time. Turns out, the guy wasn’t very nice and they had this whole drama thing.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Back to the point, they’re not friends anymore. And when that happened, my friend had been so sad. He deleted every photo of the two of them and cropped him out of any group photos he could. But I still have my photo of the three of us. Even though I look at him and am reminded of all the stuff he put one of my best friends through, I still smile when I pass it by in my camera roll. Because that day was filled with great memories between me and my friend.

“Now, in your case, you can still look at those photos and remember how happy you were that day. They don’t have to serve as a ‘look at this moment I can never go back to.’ Instead, look at them as ‘look at this moment, I was so happy this day.’ You know, it’s kind of like childhood. We have these photos from when we were younger. At birthday parties and whatnot. It’s sad growing up, sometimes we want to go back. But we know we can’t, so instead we look at photos to remember the joys of our youth. This can just be part of your youth.”

“I’ve been telling myself that this entire time.” You place the barely eaten strawberry into the stem bowl. “So I can see the end of the road, but my problem is I don’t know how to get there.”

He nods his head, pushing the strawberries off to the side. “Well, I can tell you right now that’s normally the opposite problem I have to deal with.”

You chuckle, nodding your head. “I’m a special one, aren’t I?”

“No,” he laughs. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’ve felt that myself a few times, as well as a few clients that dealt with the same issue. All I have to say to you is to just know that there’s an achievable end. You know there’s an end but it seems unattainable. So just know, it is achievable.”

“So I just have to wait?”

You knew what the answer was before you asked the question. You hated how powerless it made you feel, knowing it would get better but not knowing when.

You know you’re lucky in the sense that you know it will get better. Call it the control freak inside you that couldn’t stand not knowing when.

“Let me tell you why I chose to work on this floor,” he says, ignoring your question. “I chose this floor because while it can be hard seeing people go through this, it’s the easiest stage to work with someone on. I get paid to listen, share my two cents, and, if needed, tell a story of mine. For the most part though, I get paid to eat and hang out with people as friends. I’m not here to solve people’s problems, I’m here to listen. I can’t make you reach the end, but I can accompany you on the journey there.”

“Thank you.”

You know the response isn’t exactly the correct thing to say, but you feel so thankful to him in this moment. Hearing him say he wasn’t trying to push you ahead blindly felt so relieving. You never realized how suffocating the constant feeling of needing to get better was.

“You’re welcome.”

---

You: Are you up?

Renjun: Of course I’m up it’s only 9

You: I don’t know you could be one of those early sleepers

You: Anyways I have something I wanted to ask you

Renjun: Go ahead

You: Okay

You: So I know we had this conversation two days ago but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and you’re right.

You: I don’t want to hide from those memories anymore so I was wondering if I could send you some photos of me and her? I don’t know why but I just feel more comfortable doing this over text

You: Is that okay?

Renjun: Go for it. I’m ready to see into your past

Renjun: (◎_◎)

You: First of all that’s kinda creepy

Renjun: No it isn’t

You: Second of all thank you for letting me do this

You: Let’s get started down memory lane shall we?

You: First up we have her carrying Kyle on her back

You: {image}

Renjun: Is Kyle the bear on her back?

You: Yep! You: Kyle is a five-foot-five stuffed bear she got me for Christmas

You: He’s still sitting in my room

Renjun: He’s beautiful

Renjun: Also kind of an oddly specific height

You: Not the point here

You: Moving on!

You: {image}

You: This is just a nice photo of the two of us. This was taken when we went to the beach for her birthday. She dropped her piece of cake into the sand

Renjun: That is one of the saddest things that could happen to a person

You: I agree

You: When it was dropped she just stared at it for a few seconds before sighing deeply and turning around to get more. One of the funniest things I have ever seen

Renjun: That reminds me of last year on Donghyuck’s birthday

Renjun: So we bought him this cake and had a celebration for him outside on this picnic table we used to have. We had it at like ten at night so we weren’t disturbing the guests. At the time we were still letting the staff bring their dogs into work from time to time and Lucas had brought Bella in that day

Renjun: Long story short we set the cake on the table after he had blown out the candles and Ten-Hyung had run inside to get plates and everything. Being the stubborn man he is he had refused to ask for help and ended up dropping the box of silverware and most of the plates

Renjun: Those of us who weren’t helping him pick it up were just watching. And if you told me 23 people would get distracted over a bunch of spilled forks and plates I don’t know if I would have believed you. Now comes the fun part

Renjun: Eventually we hear Shotaro yell “Bella no!” She had managed to climb on top of the table and take a bite out of the middle of the cake

You: Oh my god no

Renjun: I know right! The look on Hyuck’s face is something I’ll remember for a long time. We ended up running to a near by store and buying him this small one in replacement

You: Forget her, that is the saddest thing that could happen to a person on their birthday. At least she was able to get more

Renjun: Eh he’s fine. He got his cake

Renjun: Bring on the next photo

You: Right

You: Next we have this one. And she would kill me if she knew I was showing you this but oh well

You: She isn’t here to stop me

You: {image}

Renjun: What even is that?

You: I wish I could give you a straight anser

You: Answer

You: But the best I got is that she found a random towel and stuck it on her head. Next she wrapped this weird bead necklace that me or my brother must have made when we were like five around the towel. Then for some reason she made an ugly face

Renjun: Well that sounds like it would have been a fun night

You: I honestly don’t remember. I just know it was at mom’s house and I was thankful to have her there

You: You know I think that’s why when she left it hurt so bad. She was the first person I was okay with letting into my life and seeing the hardships I had concerning my mom. She would always be there when I was worried I was acting too much like my mom or when my brother was being too much for me to handle (he can be like her sometimes too)

You: And before you say anything

You: I’ve listened to what you said the past few days and I know how to look at it in a good way. Instead of thinking about how I don’t have this person to give me comfort, I can think of it as ‘I may not have this person anymore but the things she said helped me then and they can help me now.’

Renjun: That’s good y/n that’s a really good step

You: What can I say I learn from the best

You: Now the next photo isn’t of her but I miss my cat so here you go

---

“I think you’re ready to move on.”

“Hello to you too,” you respond, pushing yourself off the bed and walking to stand in front of him by the door.

“You should know by now that a knock on the door is the only greeting I give. But seriously, I think at this point an Upward Turn staff member would be able to help you more than I can.”

“I-” you stutter, unsure what to say. “Do you mean right now?”

“No, silly,” he laughs. “Well, not at this moment anyway. It’s ten right now, so I would input you as ready to be transferred, you would get your staff member and new room, you’d pack up your suitcase, and then we move you up into your room. We can only move you once you’re processed as a transfer, and that takes at least an hour to be complete.”

He walks over to the table you guys sat at during your first meeting and pulled out the chair. “I’ll input you as a transfer now, and then we can go do something.”

You take the seat opposite him, still surprised you were moving up a floor. He pulls out his phone, and without looking up from it asks, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Um no, I haven’t.”

“Awesome, then when I’m done with this, how about we go and get some breakfast?”

“Sounds good.”

“One last thing, do you not trust me?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

He looks up from his phone at you, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘Really?’

“About moving on,” he clarifies, looking back down at his phone. “Do you not trust me?”

“No, of course, I trust you.”

“But?”

“But I just feel like it’s too soon, I don’t feel ready,” you mumble, for some reason feeling stupid for having your doubts.

He smiles kindly, pressing one more thing on his phone before placing it on the table. “Be honest, what more can I do for you? We’ve talked about what you were feeling, I let you have your two days of sadness before starting to slowly change those thoughts, and now, you’re at a point where you’re changing your way of thinking without me having to tell you to. Transforming that into something useful is much more suited for someone who works on The Upward Turn floor, don’t you think?”

You nod your head, shifting in your seat. “I just don’t feel completely ready yet. What if- I don’t know- what if I mess up somehow and I make it hard on him. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable with my not-ready-for-the-upward-turn-step?”

“You worry too much. But if it makes you better, let me just say that when we went through training for our floors, the staff on this floor had to receive training in the floor above us and vice versa. So if you feel you’re not completely ready, he can help you get the rest of the way there. You don’t need to worry, I’m sure you’re ready for what’ll happen up there.”

“Thanks, Renjun, that means a lot to me.” You smile at him as you lean back in your chair. “So you received training?”

He chuckles, mirroring your posture. “I wouldn’t exactly call it training so to say, more like lets all talk with people on our floor and compare ideas. For the most part, only staff on the same floor worked together, but this floor worked a little with the Upward Turn and Anger floors. We thought in order to help someone through these steps it was important to understand the steps before in case we needed to backtrack a little."

“For not having any real training, I’d say you’re all pretty good at your job.’

“Excuse you, I’m great at my job.”

---

“You ready to go?” Renjun asks, pushing the door open and leaning against the frame.

You sigh softly, nodding your head. You had never cared about leaving the rooms before, you had been too tired to care that you were leaving. But this room felt special.

Grabbing your suitcase, you walk towards him, stopping right before the door frame to look over your shoulder at the room. “Is it weird if I say I’m going to miss this room?”

“Not at all, I can imagine it’s going to be weird not seeing my handsome face every day.”

You snort, turning to face him. “Your face is the last thing I’m going to miss.”

“Ouch,” he laughs, pushing himself off the wall.

You close the door behind you, smiling softly at the playfulness between you two. Definitely going to miss this.

“So who’d you get paired with?” he asks as you walk side by side to the elevators.

“Taeil.”

He hums, nodding his head. “He’s nice. He’s kinda shy at first, but don’t let that scare you.”

“Noted,” you say, pressing the up button.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss him. Granted, you probably would have felt this way about anyone who helped you at this stage of your heartbreak, but you can’t help the gratitude you feel towards him.

“Thank you again,” you say as you step into the elevator.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t need to thank me, this is my job.”

The elevator dings open, and you both walk silently to your assigned room. After struggling to open the door the first time, you push the door open to the new room.

You nod your head, looking around the new room. Every room looked pretty much the same with simple layout changes.For the first time since you got here you appreciate the familiarity.

“I know, you said I don’t have to thank you,” you say, turning to face him. “But I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I have this habit where I tend to, for lack of a better word, idolize people who help me. Since this whole thing happened, I decided I should tell people when they do something for me that I appreciate. So I really appreciate the support you’ve given me throughout this. It means the world.”

He smiles brightly and your heart hurts a little as you realize this is one of the last times you’ll see his smile. Throughout the days you’ve spent with him, you failed to realize how beautiful his smile is. You were too busy dealing with everything happening inside you, you never stopped to appreciate how much he smiled.

The world needs more people like Renjun.

“I’m glad I could help you y/n, you were a pleasure to work with. And there’s no need to idolize me, I’m just doing a good job so I can continue to buy food using the company card.”

You laugh, looking down at your hands. “That’s a fair point, I can’t say I would do any different.”

“I’m glad you could see things my way.” He nods his head, letting a second of silence pass between you two before he points his thumb behind him towards the door. “Well, I’m going to get going, okay? I’ll see you at check out.”

You nod your head, whispering a ‘bye,’ as he turns and walks towards the door.

It feels weird knowing you’ll hold him in your memory as this great guy and he’ll only remember you as a client. I guess in some ways he is my idol.

“Hey, Renjun?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever pass me on the street or something, promise me you’ll say hi?”

He smiles brightly at you. “Of course, y/n. I’ll see you at the gathering with all your other employees before you go, okay?”

You nod your head, waving a final goodbye to Renjun. With one last smile, he’s gone. Breathing in deeply, you turn to look at your new room. Letting out your breath, you smile to yourself as you realize the feelings of numbness aren’t as strong as before.

After dreaming for so long, let’s start anew.

---

Thank you to @pastelsicheng (who I appreciate so much for the detailed revisions and having a lovely tea conversation with), @jenoremii, and @0606-hyuck for proofreading this for me!

I had so much fun writing this and I would love to know what you guys thought of it. Thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day/night!

Masterlist

#neohbh #nct-writers #huang renjun x reader #gender neutral reader #nct renjun #huang renjun #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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achaoticeternal · 4 years

Text

THIS IS ME TRYING

AVENGERS X READER (tony stark x daughter!reader, platonic peter parker x reader) masterlist // taglist

Request: @big-galaxy-chaos “Hey so I see that you also need requests as much as I do 😚 so here is mine! So it's Peter x stark!reader angst. Where Tony is afraid of becoming like his father but in reality, he is worst than him. He favors Peter more than her. Even though she is smarter than her own father, and won tons of awards and shit. Tony doesn't realize what he lost until the reader is gone. Btw the relationship between the reader and Peter is platonic! Also, everyone is oblivious to how she is feeling. Just pure angst”

Summary: Dads and daughters are supposed to have a beautiful relationship. But you could never be the song he always wanted. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Based on the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift. Reader and Peter are both 18+; takes place after Thanos and Tony lives. Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, self destructive behaviors, mentions death

“Mr. Stark, I’ve been working on the chemical formula of my webbing and I’m pretty sure that I’ve completely perfected it,” Peter talked while walking with your father to the lab.

“That’s great because I’ve been working on your web-shooters. Now, they can shoot up to 200 yards in length and the error rate of them getting jammed is less than one percent.”

Tony rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they left the room together. Neither of them acknowledges you on the couch, reading another novel involving quantum physics. But you’re used to the cold shoulder your father has given you since he first met Peter Parker. You’re used to the way he’s turned you away all your life, justifying his choice by saying he’s protecting you.

You knew that he feared to become his father. Pepper explained that to you when you were a child and you couldn’t leave your room until Tony’s lady of the night let. Or as you and Pepper called it at the time “taking out the trash”.

Maybe that was when you became more interested in the mathematics and science you found in the book and the workshop over good ole bonding time with dear old dad. If he wanted to neglect the time and opportunity to raise you, you would at least make sure to put his money and name to good use for your own personal benefit. And in the back of your mind, you knew that part of you was doing this to earn the attention and love you desired from your father.

Tony just saw it as taking an early interest in your future. So he didn’t stop you when you preferred to sit with tutors over playdates, draw out designs for engines and inventions instead of scribbling in coloring books, or even reading through scientific theories over watching Disney movies. He didn’t think it was strange, because that’s what he did at your age. Hell, by the time you were 10 you had won three first-place national science fair ribbons, third place in the national spelling bee, and began developing a prototype to turn the emissions from cars back into breathable oxygen.

Everyone noticed your brain, and how much you had achieved now at 18 years old. You held 2 Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering and Organic Chemistry from MIT and a Master’s in Astrophysics from Georgia Tech. And you were now planning out when you wanted to go to Law school and earn your doctorate. But you were living at the compound now, taking a gap year.

When you went away for school, you learned from others how normal life was for everyone else. You met kids who were the first in their family to go to college or were looking for opportunities outside of the small towns they came from. When you came home from your second semester at MIT, you told Tony about all this and he created the September Foundation in order to fund the projects and inventions those kids were creating. It was another punch in the gut to you, because you realized that you would never be enough for Tony.

If you were enough, he would have passed the mantle of Iron Man onto someone else after he almost lost you and Pepper to the Mandarin. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have enlisted Peter to help him in his fight against Captain America. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have gone into space for a final fight. If you were enough, Morgan wouldn’t be in the other room watching cartoons. And if Tony acknowledged you, just even a little but, maybe you wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress him and the world.

“Ms. Stark, your package has arrived. Shall I send it over to the labs?” F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed into the room.

“No, send it over to my personal workshop. In fact, send all of TS-2008 to my personal workshop.”

“Of course, miss.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please stop referring to me as ‘Ms. Stark’, (Y/N) is fine.”

“Alright, CASS, reboot the system diagnostics and run test C-24,” you yawned as you asked your personal AI system. The personal AI system you built for yourself, bu yourself - no help from Tony at all.

“Systems are checked out, shall I launch the test?”

“Go for it,” you groaned and took to Advil for your poundingheadachee. It was now two in the morning after another long night of coding, calibrating, testing, and perfecting the project you’ve been working on the past two years.

When you were younger, you tried to replicate the Iron Man suit, but your father quickly discovered the helmet and nearly perfected arc reactor you’d created in his lab. He trashed all of it and told you never to attempt to create the suit again. He said you were better than that, that you had more potential than pretending to be a superhero. You realized as you grew older that he didn’t care if you were trying to become a hero or not; but that you were copying his work. His precious Iron Man that he took months to perfect only took a week for his child to solve.

Dear old dad couldn’t let you have things the easy way. So instead after SHIELD fell and Tony began working to finish wiping out HYDRA, you began working on your own original model suit. Now it was almost ready to showcase to the world.

“Test C-24:successful. Shall I continue to run diagnostics to watch the processing and reaction time of TS-2008?”

“Yes, CASS. Run virtual simulations L-29, O-400, and T-38. Let me know when the trials have finished running and whether or not they were successful or not.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/N),”

You pushed away from your desk and left your workshop. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen pouring yourself another cup of coffee. You had been through 3 pots already tonight and no one noticed. Guess that was the nice thing about being Tony’s kid. Everyone else acknowledge your accomplishments and paid no mind to your destructive tendencies. In fact, maybe you’d celebrate tonight and snag a bottle of champagne from the extravagant wine fridge next to the dishwasher. You’d done it plenty of nights before when you wanted to drown out and numb the pain in your heart.

“(Y/N)? Why are you awake? And why are you holding a bottle of champagne?”

Ah, Peter... of course he would be spending the weekend at the compound. It’s not likely he has a perfectly good and happy home back in Queens with a guardian who loves him very much and would give the world to him. Guess that’s something May and your Father.

“Hello, Perfect Parker”

“You know I’ve never understood why you call me that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense from your end of the looking glass.Why are you up?” You tried so hard not scowl or be too rude. Peter had tattled to TOny before about you having a ‘bad attitude’ towards him.

“I believe I asked you that first.”

“That you did, but if you want an answer out of me, you’ll have to answer first.”

“I couldn’t sleep. thought I would get myself a glass of water. You?”

“I’m getting wasted, just like all my potential,” You faked a smile and started peeling the gold wrapping off of the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t say that, everyone knows how talented and brilliant you are,” He sighed while grabbing himself a glass and walking over to the fridge, “You’re a Stark”

“Tell that to Dad, because you’ll always be more of a Stark than I’ll ever be,” You huffed as you pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer near you.

“That doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N), are you sure you haven’t been drinking already? Because you sound delirious. Maybe you should spend some time outside of your bedroom, maybe even get out of the compound. When was the last time you left to go somewhere?”

“Thanks for the concern Parker, but I’ve been able to hold my own for at least fifteen years now. And I know I don’t leave here a lot because I don’t have the opportunity too. If there’s a private event, either Pepper attends with Tony or Spider-man makes an appearance with Iron Man. I’m just surprised that there aren’t rumors across the media wondering ‘Is Spider-Man the lost of the Iron Man, Tony Stark?” You waved your hand in the air to match the dramatic tone.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” He took a sip out of your water, “People know you exist”

“Yeah, maybe if they do a quick Google shirt. But I’m not offended, I know that I just live in your shadow. But I’m used to it,” Your poured the alcohol into a glass and began to sip from it, relief flooding through you.

“Okay , I get it. You’re just in another one of your dramatic moods, maybe you should just go to bed before you say or do something stupid,” he took a step towards you.

“Don’t I always?”

“Always what?”

“Say or do something stupid?”

He halted and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant, (Y/N), I-”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant, Parker,” You brushed past him and stormed into the living room, “You don’t understand how lucky you are.”

He came stomping after you, “Oh, so you’re feeling brave, huh? Well you just sound like an idiot. I’m not just some lucky kid! I’ve lost my parents, my Uncle was killed in front of my face, and I disappeared from existence! The only people who care for me are Aunt May and Tony.”

You turned to face him, face completely red, tears threatening to spill, “Well at least you have Tony, because I don’t! I’ve just run around all my life trying to be perfect, be easy for him to deal with, live up to his and everybody's expectations! But I’m not good enough, I’ve never been good enough, and I’ll never be good enough. I’m just Tony Stark’s bastard child who built herself from the ground up without the slightest bit of help from her father!”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, don’t you ‘(Y/N)’ me. You’ve gotten everything you wanted from my father since day one. I never had that. You didn’t have to work to really make your own suite, you didn’t have to endure a lifetime of pain because of his arrogant ass, YOU didn’t have to wonder where Tony was on your graduation day for MIT - his alma mater - because he attended your fucking high school graduation instead!”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony yelled from the opposite end of the room. Pepper stood behind him and you could hear other door creaking open to here the events down the hall, “Not only are you two fighting in the living room and woke up half the compound, but you woke up Morgan and now she’s crying in her room because you two are screaming at each other.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, poor Morgan woke up in the middle of the night,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I just came to get a glass of water,” Peter attempted to defend himself.

And from Tony and Pepper’s angle, he did look to be more innocent. He had a glass of water in his hand and was completely cool. While you stood opposite of him; a bottle of booze in one had, dark circles under your eyes, a tear stained face, and looking to be in a mad frenzy.

“(Y/N), explain yourself,” Tony spoke sternly.

You took a deep breath in and wiped away fresh tears with your sleeve, “No, I don’t have to.”

“Excuse me,” your father marched across the room, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight but-”

“What’s gotten into me? Do you even listen to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? No, of course you do, because you like listening to yourself talk more than you’ll listen to me. So talking to you is as fucking useless as talking to a deaf man!”

Peter and Tony now stood stunned at you and your sudden tantrum, but you knew it had been coming, you had always known. You knew one day you were going to explode, and it just happened to be tonight.

“I get it, I’m not precious Peter, or your beautiful Morgan. I’m just your bastard child from some broad you met on Malibu Beach. Even though I’m just a kid, I’ve always been your competition, a threat to you and your name. And even after every nearly life-ending event, I thought things would change - that you’d finally love me. But that never happened not even after Extremis infected not just Pepper’s body, but my own! And now I’m dying, I’m fucking dying, dad. I’m running out of time and trying to do everything I can. I go to school and get these diplomas and certificates to impress you. I invent and build thing to get your attention. I do it all because I still desire your validation and I’m running out of time,” you fall to your knees, everything becoming to much, “this is me trying, just like I have been all my life- but it’s still not enough.”

The room went silent. Only sobs echoed around the room as champagne poured out the bottle, staining the carpet. Neither Tony or Peter knew what to say or what to do. How could they begin to comfort the crying girl on the floor, or fix everything that ha occured over a lifetime.

Tony finally knelt down, “(Y/N), you know I never meant for any of this to happen, for you to ever feel like this. I’ve always been so scared of becoming your grandfather... I thought I was doing right by never pushing you, I guess it just never clicked.”

“Oh yeah, is that why you pushed me away and found Peter? And then when you realized you had messed up and forgot about your first daughter, you had another one in order to make things up?” You raised to head and shoulder up first, then finally rose back onto your two feet, “well congratulations, you’re worse than Howard Stark. And I hope you’re proud, Dad.”

With that, you left the living room. You couldn’t deal with in anymore that night, maybe ever again. Because when Tony came to check on you the next morning, you were missing. Only a note by your bedside remained as the only proof you had even lived in the room.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

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imaginesbymk · 3 years

Text

“Something’s Wrong with Mr. Pink.”

Reservoir Dogs One Shot

Summary: There’s been spark between you and Mr. Pink, but he’s one to shield his emotions. He realizes he’s starting to lose you, but he’s out of ways to win your heart. Desperate, he approaches Mr. White for help.

Pairing: Mr. Pink x Fem!Reader

Tags: swearing, sexist remarks, smoking + mentions of drug use (marijuana)

Non Requested

Word Count: 2,054

Author’s Note: as you can tell, quentin tarantino movies have been on my list!!! the reader is codenamed Miss Beige!! i never thought i’d have this much appreciation for steve buscemi until now, he’s such a cool guy :((( also thank you @myriadimagines for checking my title capitalization aksnskdns - leave a like/reblog + feedback!!! <333

MR. BROWN gave Mr. Pink a ride to the next meeting, and the whole trip there, Brown rambled on and on about God knows what. It came through one ear and out the other for Pink. Brown didn’t seem to notice because of his investment of his proven theory of a movie he had seen and wanted to share it with someone.

If he wasn’t listening in silence, Pink would always have something to say. It would usually be a comment, an opinion on something about social life. This one afternoon, he bit his tongue, despite the guys knowing his mind was occupied, even Nice Guy Eddie raised a brow. It didn’t start the day they were all given your colour coded names. It didn’t start the day they reviewed the plan of the heist with each other. It all started when you two were unintentionally left alone at the large dining table, moments after the guys had walked out the restaurant for something.

“Pink’s a pretty colour.” You gave him a reassuring smile, stirring your straw in your milkshake.

“To you.”

“And to anyone else who would want to be codenamed Pink!” you scoff. “Sexist.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re Miss Beige,” he says, his mouth full of his toast.

“And I happen to like my name. It’s a pretty colour,” you paused. “Just like pink.”

Pink huffs, swirling his coffee mug. “I can’t wait to smoke.”

“Lucky.”

“My buddy sets up Thai sticks like it’s one of those model boats in a bottle. It’s so fragile to him, and he saved one for me. Something tells me I owe him a shit ton.”

“You smoke Thai sticks?” you ask. “Your poor lungs.”

“Nah, I gotta smoke outta one anytime after coffee just for me to either black out or jump off the Empire State building by the time we hit Easter.”

You chuckled.

From the windows of the restaurant, you could see the guys standing outside their parked cars including Nice Guy Eddie and Joe, talking to each other about whatever. You could see their mouths moving, Nice Guy Eddie using a lot of hand motions at Mr. White, and Joe calling someone on the phone.

This wasn’t the first time you spent a limited amount of minutes alone with Mr. Pink. At Uncle Bob’s Pancake House, you two did sit close to each other, except Mr. Blue sat in between the both of you, and you had to lean forward to see Mr. Pink if he was speaking or if you two were giving each other looks if someone said something stupid.

If you were that childish, you would've considered the five minutes of alone time with Mr. Pink a first date - without the formal introduction. You two didn’t give each other your names because of Joe, but you wouldn’t mind slipping it out.

Silence, and then-

“I know this really cool café near my apartment. We should check it out sometime,” you blurted out.

Pink was in the midst of swallowing his food. He chokes on his ketchup dipped toast, taking his coffee mug to chase the contents down his throat.

“Wait a minute-” Pink cleared his throat, then cleared it again. “Are you-” he cleared his throat for the final time. “Are you asking me out?”

“Y-yeah,” you sheepishly smile, holding in your breath. “I mean, we can go get coffee, hang out at my place afterwards - it’s just a five minute walk - and sit on my couch, listen to K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the ‘70s, you can smoke your Thai stick, I wouldn’t mind...” By looking at Pink’s face made you trail off your words. You knew where this was going.

“You couldn’t ask Brown or Orange?”

“No, I wanted to ask you. We’ve been talking lately, we seem to get along, thank God, and you’re really cool. Even when you can be an absolute dick almost all the time, you haven’t scared me off. Just one date, it won’t kill us.”

“A date...” he frowns a bit. “With you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” your heart sank.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Miss Beige. Ya just got the wrong idea. We’re here for a job, not to hook up. If you want to suck someone off, try your luck with Mr. Blonde. Besides, I go for chicks at a bar. I know from experience, they’re always coming in hot - first come, first serve typa’ shit.”

“Right. My bad.” You felt yourself shrinking now, fighting the urge to get up and make a dash outta there, somewhere to scream in embarrassment, whatever emotion it was.

“Excuse me.” Mr. Pink gets up and walks away, just as the rest of the guys start making their return to the large table.

“Where did Mr. Pink go?” Mr. Orange asked.

“Little men’s room, I’m guessing.” You sighed, sliding the milkshake away from you. “I’m full.”

“Something’s wrong with Mr. Pink. Did you guys get in a fight? We were only gone for five minutes,” Mr. Brown laughs.

You sat in silence, staring down.

“Nah, I bet she finally put him in his place and he’s crying like a baby in there,” Mr. Blue said, lighting the cigar in his mouth with a match.

“Most definitely not.” Mr. White shook his head, patting his pockets in search of his lighter. “That man’s a smartass, and smartasses like him know how to shield themselves. He’s fine. If anything, he can walk his ass home.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Pink calmly entered the restroom, placed both hands on each side of the tiny sink, stared at his reflection in the dirty mirror, and screamed in anger.

He jumps when he notices a man had appeared from one of the stalls just a moment ago, staring at him worriedly.

“WHAT?!” Mr. Pink snaps.

If someone treated him like a friend, he goes along with it if they weren’t weird or creepy. If someone told a joke, he’ll laugh if it isn’t corny or cringeworthy. But if someone admitted their feelings to him? Let alone ask him out?

That was the thing: Mr. Pink doesn’t like the idea of vulnerability. He’s aware that it’s unavoidable, it’s human nature - he just chooses not to give into it. Mr. Pink won’t waste a breath giving anyone the impression that he’s easy to get along with and that he’s a kind of guy to not act like a complete jerk half the time, because that’s not true. Not on his behalf, at least.

“Mr. White,” Mr. Pink approaches him in the vacant room at the hideout one day.

He knows people can judge. So he naturally survives on witty remarks, being a sarcastic ass most of the time, and coffee, coffee, and more coffee. Coffee times six.

Mr. White finishes combing his hair in the small mirror, nodding at him as a response. “You all right, son?”

But at the same time, his heart was telling him he wants you all to himself. “I got a problem...”

"SO you want my help?” Mr. White said, a few moments after Mr. Pink had explained the situation he was stuck in. “You’re completely hopeless right now? Gosh, is it my birthday already?”

“You’re full of shit,” Pink mumbled.

“Thought you’re s’posed to be a fuckin’ professional, like you said?” Mr. White chuckled. “I would have thought you would know what to do by now.”

“What am I, the Dalai Lama? I don’t know the answer to everything.”

“I mean... I kinda figured something was goin’ on between you two, I tried to warn her,” White shoots him a blank stare.

“Warn her?” Mr. Pink scowls. “Like I’m some fuckin’ tiger on the loose?”

“I did tell her: Listen, honey,” Mr. White grimaced, as he saw you like a sixteen-year-old teenager not knowing better than to get her heart broken. “Are you one hundred percent sure you like Mr. Pink? He’s a pretty cynical guy. You know he doesn’t tip waitresses?”

You shrug.

“Look, I know I can be very close to myself while very outspoken but,” Mr. Pink sighs. “I mean, c’mon, you’ve seen Miss Beige. Who wouldn’t want her? One time, she called in sick for a job she worked at just to play Super Mario World.”

“You could go there and apologize to her.”

“It’s not that easy, White.”

“How so? Just tell her you freaked out but you had a change of heart.”

“No, man. I could have accepted it right there and then, I could be taking her out somewhere, a place she likes, or that café she was talking about. But no, I turn into the cold piece of shit I always am ‘cause I’m a fucking-” Mr. Pink kicks the rusty chair in anger. “-idiot!” He kicks it again, hurting his foot in the process. He cries out in pain and hops away to the table for balance.

“Mr. Pink, it’s not too late to win her heart. If you really like her, and I can tell you’d take a bullet for her, then brush the professionalism aside for one second and make your move.”

“How?” he chuckles, taking a seat in the chair he had just kicked.

“Well, you can start by introducing yourself.”

“Already done.”

“No I mean, your name.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. What we’re not gonna do is that.” Mr. Pink ran his fingers through his hair, turning his back to White to therapeutically stare at the light pink tiles on the walls.

“Why not?” White shrugs. “I told her mine. And it’s-”

Mr. Pink turned around. “What?”

Mr. White furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“You told her your name?” he said. In his mind he prayed Mr. White gave her a fake name on the spot.

“I mean, not just her. Mr. Orange, too. My first name and where I was from, it was a normal conversation.”

“...WHY?!” Pink’s voice echoed in the warehouse.

“Orange asked.”

“You know what Joe said, we’re not supposed to reveal any personal info about ourselves!”

“Joe said this, Joe said that- fucking teacher’s pet,” Mr. White mocks.

“What the hell were you thinking, White?” he shouts.

“How else can you and Miss Beige take a step further if you can’t even tell each other your fuckin’ names? Just introduce yourself, Pink. That’s one way to start,” Mr. White says.

“And what if she doesn’t like my name?” He could only come up with such a question like that.

“What is your name?”

“Fuck you, man.” Mr. Pink stood up from the chair, earning a chuckle from his colleague.

“All right, if you won’t tell me your name, then tell y/n. Y/n should be the only one who can know.”

Mr. Pink turned back to him again. “Y/N?” he says. “That’s her name?”

Mr. White nods. As heated as Mr. Pink was, he knew one day your name would have to fall out of his lips and not a colour, and he wouldn’t mind that. Y/N...

Mr. Pink wouldn’t mind that one bit.

FROM now on, the café near your apartment complex would be your go-to. It was a café not too small but not too big, and no one would bat an eye if you showed up in your pajamas. The following Saturday you went there alone, sipping your coffee and turning to the second page of the morning paper.

What sucked was the fact that after you were turned down, you came to think that Mr. Pink wouldn’t be able to see how cool the interior was. He sure was missing out. Sure his Thai stick won’t be stinking up your living room while throwback songs from the ‘70s play on the radio, but indeed, sucks for him.

“Shit, you were right, y/n. This place is pretty neat.”

The newspaper crinkled when you lowered it down. Standing at the foot of your booth was Mr. Pink. This time he didn’t have on his silly Hawaiian shirt like last time, and no, he didn’t ironically wear pink as a kind gesture. He did look good in a white tee, though.

You had to smile. He knew your name. And you wondered how...

“Oh, Mr. Pink. Morning,” you nodded.

He takes a seat in front of you. “C’mon, we’re not at work. Just call me—”

THE END

—

TAGLIST: @locke-writes

#i wish mr pink actually revealed his name in the movie #but no he’s a ✨professional✨#reservoir dogs imagine #reservoir dogs one shot #reservoir dogs x reader #reservoir dogs fanfic #mr pink x reader #mr pink imagine #mr pink #reservoir dogs #reservoir dogs fanfiction #mr pink one shot #reader insert #one shot #imagine #mk's faves

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years

Note

Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )

We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?

Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.

I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you).

Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.

God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.

Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.

I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart.

Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.

Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.

Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?

Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too).

Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.

Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.

The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.

And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.

With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life.

Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”

Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death.

Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.

In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.

More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.

Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.

In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.

Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.

Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he.

It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.

As for the classism.

While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.

Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.

He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.

Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.

#ask #anon #headcanons #albus dumbledore #manipulative dumbledore #dumbledore is pretty damn evil guys #as in there is pretty much not a single action you can point to where i'll say it was reasonable and not in some way underhanded #except maybe his choice in wardrobe #the man has some elton john style

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kittyprincessofcats · 3 years

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She-Ra S5 E06 - Taking Control

Yes, I am still determined to finally finish these reviews because I have thoughts on all of these episodes and still want to write them down (even though it’s been ages), so here we go. Spoilers for the rest of the season in case you haven’t watched it yet.

So let’s get into it:

- I love that they just took Wrong Hordak with them and that they’re actually calling him “Wrong Hordak”.

- Adora obsessively checking on Catra all the time is so sweet ❤️ (but also sad because she just came so close to losing her for good).

- “I honestly can NOT believe it worked.” Yeah, I’m with Bow on that. But like I explained in my Save the Cat review, I actually love that their super risky plan ends up working, as it already shows that Horde Prime is not as invincible as it seems.

- “Well, friends and one person who threw me off a cliff once.” I’m so here for all the “former enemies who now casually reference all the times they hurt each other in the past” banter, you have no idea!

- “I am honored to provide nourishment for my exalted brothers.” I love Wrong Hordak. Pretty much every one of his lines is a winner.

- Change in the opening: Only a tiny one (for now), but Wrong Hordak has been added to the heroes’ shot in the end and his expression is hilarious.

- Catra’s flashbacks to Horde Prime submerging her in that pool are so painful. (I saw a theory on here somewhere that this is why Catra’s fear of water seems even worse in season 5 compared to before. It makes sense when you consider Horde Prime tortured her in that pool. Side-note: This also makes me want to have a word with all those people who complain that Catra’s redemption was “too easy”. She literally went through extreme torture and mind-control to protect other people, but go off about how that’s “easy” or not a vaild reason for those people to forgive her, I guess.)

- Gosh, just the fact that she’s so panicked when she wakes up 💔

- I love how Adora, despite being so concerned and wanting to reach out for her, holds back and gives Catra her space.

(- Side-note: Let me take this moment to shamelessly promote what’s most likely Noelle’s fanfic: Don’t Go by Annacharlier on AO3 does an amazing job filling in the blanks between Save the Cat and Taking Control and explaining what goes on in Adora and Catra’s heads here. Give it a read if you haven’t already!)

- “I keep having this horrible vision of a blonde girl who thinks she’s better than everyone barging into my room all day.” I love how Catra’s still her snarky self, though. And how Adora isn’t even mad and just smiles at this.

- Okay, so the obvious topic of Catra not wanting to face everyone she’s hurt aside, I find it interesting how Entrapta is the only person she doesn’t use a nickname for - she calls them Arrow Boy, Sparkles and Entrapta. I think it’s a mix of her knowing Entrapta better than the others, and her respecting Entrapta more.

- The entire fight between Adora and Catra is such a good scene (as sad as it is). Catra doesn’t want to face all her mistakes (she didn’t think she’d actually live long enough to have to), is plagued by obvious guilt and still doesn’t really realize that Adora came back for her because she cares about her (hence her accusation that Adora “just loves feeling like a hero”). Adora on the other hand thinks that things should be okay now because she saved Catra and they’re together again, so why can’t they just make up? She doesn’t realize that Catra needs a bit of time to really digest everything that’s happened. And that “I never hated you!” moment? Beautiful. I think it’s a huge thing for Catra to realize that even when they were enemies, Adora’d didn’t hate her.

- Many She-Ra episodes have two plots going on at once and one of them happens to be way more interesting than the other. In season 1, it was often “the Horde plot is more interesting than the Bright Moon plot” for me. In this episode, it’s a very clear “the plot in space is more interesting than the one on Etheria” - sorry.

- I’m glad we finally got a Spinnetossa kiss, though!! This season is just bringing all the gay!

- Micah freaking out about Glimmer potentially not liking him (not realizing that Glimmer’s really not a kid anymore) is also kind of cute.

- I love Glimmer’s expression when Adora complains about Catra. She just looks so #done with all of this.

- Adora calling Catra a “stubborn brat” is amazing. (Though tbh, I misheard her at first and thought she said “stubborn cat” - which would be true, too.)

- “Did you think she was going to just instantly become a totally different person?” That’s a very good point and I’m glad the show didn’t make Catra just insantly act completely differently.

- “I believe - in Horde Prime.” Look, I could just quote all of Wrong Hordak’s lines here because they’re just too good 🤣. Also, the fact that his apron says “Smooch the chef” in first one’s writing? Amazing.

- Poor Bow being the designated driver and having to fly into an asteroid field. Love how excited Entrapta is about it, though.

- I just noticed that when Catra’s getting those flashes after the ship is hit, the first image she sees is of Krytis!

- “Once again, Catra is ruining out lives!” Okay, but that’s really not her fault this time. Though I get that Adora’s just being overdramatic here. (“Then try not to hit anything!” 🤣) Also, my first thought was Wrong Hordak was sending the trace signal, not Catra’s chip - but the chip does make more sense, since Wrong Hordak was cut off from the hivemind and Horde Prime also couldn’t find Hordak for years.

- Honestly, the group on Etheria should have left that party way sooner. Something was so obviously super off there, and they noticed it as well - but still stuck around for way too long. (But then again, they had no idea about the chips at all, so maybe that’s a bit harsh.)

- The way Spinnerella moves her neck when she says “something weird just happened” - very nice hinting/foreshadowing there!

- “Me? Why would I wanna hurt you? Ooooh, you mean because you sent me to Beast Island, stole my work and used it to rip a hole in the fabric of space and time? I get it. Hold still.” 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Have I mentioned I LOVE ENTRAPTA??? I love how she’s not even mad at first and then so genuinely proud of herself for “getting it” - but also, since this is pretty much the worst thing Catra’s ever done and something she (rightfully) feels a lot of guilt over, I’m glad the show took the time to address it. Yeah, it’s played for laughs here at first, but then the episode actually seriously addresses it.

- “We’re doing this. Then if you think hiding from the people you hurt will make you feel better, we’ll drop you off and you’ll never have to see us again. *sigh* You’ll never have to see me again.” THIS MOMENT. Okay, let’s get into this: I like that Adora’s not letting Catra get away with anything here. That she tells her straight-up that they have to remove the chip or else Prime will find them, that she questions if hiding from everyone she’s hurt will really make Catra feel better, but that she also agrees to drop her off if Catra really wants that. And I like how Catra, now that Adora is offering her what she said she wanted earlier, realizes she doesn’t actually want to lose Adora again either. Adora offered to let her go, and Catra realized she doesn’t want that. I also really like Catra asking Adora to stay: It shows that Adora’s presence still makes Catra feel safe, hence why she wants her there for the chip removal procedure, but it also nicely foreshadows the finale, where Catra will ask Adora to “stay” again. Also, all that hand-holding and blushing? Cute.

- “I’m not protecting you, I’m protecting them.” YES. And here’s where Micah shows that he does take Frosta seriously and does understand how strong she is - good!

- Catra seeing Horde Prime’s thoughts: First of all, it breaks my heart how tiny and scared she sounds when she talks about Horde Prime “using” her (but also not really because I’m evil and I’m here for the angst). Then, I like how she insists she has to do this because otherwise Adora will “do something stupid and get herself killed” - Catra is super protective of Adora. And again with the hand-holding and asking Adora to stay with her 😭. I also like that it really works and Catra ends up finding out what Horde Prime is doing and even seeing what’s going on on Etheria.

- Also: I like that Horde Prime is genuinely furious about Adora saving Catra. That the whole reason he changed his strategy and started chipping people on Etheria is because he’s genuinely pissed about that and wants revenge (something Double Trouble will again confirm one episode later).

- Can we also talk about Adora and Catra immediately reaching for each other and hugging when the ship gets hit?

- “She-Ra, if you really are out there: Are you getting this?” Okay, but that’s just the thing: She literally is getting this! I like how the two plots connect here and how Adora becoming She-Ra and defeating the ships in space also helps Swift Wind power up and save the others.

- Everyone’s already talked about this at length, but I love She-Ra’s new transformation! The symbols representing Adora’s friends (winged boots for Glimmer, heart for Bow, mask for Catra), the way better outfit and hair in a ponytail, the beautiful galaxy background with those lights, the triumphant orchestra version of the transformation music - I’m here for all of it! (Also for Catra’s little blush at the end there.)

- She-Ra destroying the ships in space is epic.

- Catra’s apology to Entrapta is such a huge moment for her and such a nice scene! I like how she technically didn’t even have to do it: Entapta didn’t expect an apology and was already on her way out. But Catra has been feeling bad about this for a long time and realized now that she doesn’t actually want to run away. And after we’ve seen Catra being awful to everyone and feeling guilty over what she did to Entrapta since early season 4, it feels so good to finally hear her genuinely apologize for it (and genuinely apologize to someone other than Adora in general). And Entrapta patting her head with her hair is so precious 😭. I love both of them.

- The scene of Catra joining everyone else at dinner is so good 😭😭😭. How she’s finally ready to face them, but still sits away from them, not expecting to be forgiven or accepted, how Bow and Glimmer make room for her and invite her to join, how her ears perk up at that, Glimmer offering her food, that glance between her and Adora... YES. Catra is someone who’s been rejected and made to feel like an outcast her entire life, and she was convinced everyone hated her now. Bow and Glimmer inviting her to sit with them here was so important.

- I love Entrapta asking if the food comes in smaller sizes. She just has a thing for tiny food and I can respect that.

- And... oh no, Spinnerella is chipped!

This was another really good episode! I like how it shows Catra’s growth and shows her working on herself. I also like how things weren’t just immediately okay between her and Adora and that she still has to work on actually redeeming herself even after her heroic sacrifice. But I also think it’s realistic that Adora and Glimmer aren’t holding a grude against her, since she literally went through hell for them. Her apology to Entrapta was really beautiful and all the soft moments between her and Adora make my heart melt.

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