#and i felt like this was he perfect precursor for it

[rachel-614]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

#sir gawain and the green knight #translations #internet research #english literature #teaching things #dads are the best #long post #story telling #I STILL don’t know the name of the translator but I WILL find out #obscure books

[leossmoonn]

“Just” Sex III

masterlist

pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader

type - fluff, angst, smut, 16+

summary - friends with benefits used to be fun for you and steve, until staying one night leads to months of being in love

warnings / includes - language, fighting, crying, suggestive, sex: intercourse (protected), oral (both receiving and giving at times), fingering & hj, changes pov, natural time skips, during s1

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“It was mortifying! I have never seen an uglier dick in my entire life!” you howl, throwing your head back as you laugh.

Tears stream down Steve’s face as he laughs. He takes his hand off the wheel, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Did you say that to him?”

Your laughter falters and you shake your head. “No, unfortunately.”

“Did you tell Carol that?”

“Yes, and she didn’t talk to me for a week.”

“Maybe you should insult Tommy again, then,” Steve suggests.

You sigh with a smile, leaning back in your seat. “That’s a great idea. Hopefully my next insult will make her never talk to me again.”

Steve laughs breathily, relaxing behind the wheel. He comes to a stoplight, taking a moment to glance at you. You look so pretty sitting in his passenger seat. The red and green traffic lights create stripes over your body. Your eyes are shining so bright, brighter than he’s ever seen. And you have the same smile on your face you’ve had for the whole night. You look happy. Happier than you’ve looked in a while.

He slowly presses on the gas once the light turns green. Comfortable silence overtakes you two. It feels nice.

Dinner ended up being great. You underestimated how much fun you would have fun with Steve while not having sex. The little sleepover you two had was a precursor, but it was only for a couple hours before you two felt asleep, and there were moments where it got hot and heavy. Tonight was a totally knew experience.

You two were on your best behaviors. Totally innocent. It was natural. You didn’t feel like you had to fake anything. You feel like you could do this with him forever.

Steve pulls into your driveway, parking the car and turning to you. He looks bittersweet.

“I had a great time tonight,” he says. “Me, too,” you nod with a grin. “We should do this again.”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. You laugh in reply, knowing he would be shocked.

“Totally,” he nods ecstatically. You giggle softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

“See you. Have a good night.”

Your stomach flips as you watch his eyes flutter to your lips. You’ve kissed him a million times, but this time feels different. More sentimental and pure. You have to remind yourself you two are just friends with many, many benefits, and you intend to keep it that way.

You decide instead of kissing his lips, to kiss his cheek. He deserves a kiss for being a gentleman tonight, just not one that will spark something.

He appreciates the peck on his cheek, still smiling from ear-to-ear as if you’ve actually kissed him. He has a sparkle in his eye, the same sparkle that tells you he’s being mischievous or he’s hiding something. You let it go for tonight. You don’t want to ruin the perfect day you’ve had.

“Have a good night, too. Drive safe, Steve.” You get out of the car, walking to your house with a big smile on your face. You still feel giddy and energetic as if you were still at dinner with him. You hope this feeling will transfer to tomorrow and the next day and the next week.

“Hi, honey! How was dinner?” your mom asks.

“It was good,” you smile. Your mom glances to your dad with a little smirk.

“So, are you two dating yet?” she asks. “No,” you say curtly.

“You sure? You both have been hanging out a lot recently.”

“I’m sure, Mom. We’re just friends. Best friends.”

“Okay,” your mom hums. “How about we have him over for dinner, then? As a friend.”

You roll your eyes. This is your mom’s game: making everything no obvious to the point where it is.

“He’s always super busy. He won’t be able to make it.”

“He’s not too busy to spend all his time with you,” your dad remarks.

You shoot him a glare, to which he returns a smile. “He has like, basketball practice and homework.”

“I heard Steve Harrington doesn’t do homework,” your dad snickers.

“Where did you hear that?” your eyes widen. He shrugs, not answering you and continuing to read his book.

“If you really dont want us to meet him, that’s fine. We respect your decision, but we would also love to meet the boy you’ve been hanging around with so much,” your mom says.

You sigh softly. You know your mom worries about you whenever you hang out with people, especially boys. You’ve always been very communicative with them, which allows them to trust you more. But they’ve never met Steve and you know for a fact your parents are dying to. Your mom is always asking about him and what he likes, where he wants to go to college, if you like him. She’s obviously rooting for you two, and although it’s cute, you wish she would stop. You don’t have the heart to tell her to stop, though. Not when there’s a small part of you that’s rooting for you two now.

“I’ll ask him,” you say. You leave it at that, climbing up the stairs and locking yourself in your room.

You approach Steve anxiously. You’re happy to see him. You haven’t for the whole weekend. He chose to stay at home and help his mom around the house since his dad was gone for a business trip.

“Hey!” Steve grins at you. You catch his eyes checking you out before landing back onto your face.

“Hi. Can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Yeah, sure,” he nods. His heart jolts as his mind races with all the possibilities of what you’re question could be. Worst scenario would be you wanting to never see him again. Best scenario would be anything but the worst.

“Would you like to come over for dinner with my family and I? My mom was asking after you took me back home Friday. You totally can say no. They’re just being annoying because they’ve never met you before.”

His face light up at once and he nods excitedly. “I’d love to have dinner with your parents. Yeah, a-absolutely.”

You stop rambling, staring at him. He looks so eager and excited now. He’s smiling to where almost all teeth are showing. His eyes are bright against the dim school hallway lights. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. His feelings are always so contagious. You can’t help but feel the same to a certain degree.

“Okay, cool. Does tomorrow work for you?” you suggest. “6 pm?”

“Yep. I’ll be there. Do I need to wear anything special? Like a suit?”

You giggle at his efforts. “No. What you wear normally is fine.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I gotta go,” he says as the warning bell for first period rings. “But I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yep. Definitely,” you reply.

The next night, you’re running around your mom and changing clothes. You ended up hating your outfit you originally wore. You picked out a long-sleeve striped shirt with a jean overall dress. The moment you were going to walk down the stairs, your brain decided to turn on you and all your anxieties surfaced.

Now you’re in a dress that looks like you’re going to a business meeting. You groan in frustration, hands balling up. You want to hit your mirror, break your reflection so you can’t see yourself at all.

A knock on your door sounds. You rush to it, locking your door. “Yeah? Who is it?”

“It’s me, sweetie. Are you okay?” your dad asks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Just to let you know, Steve is here already,” he says.

“Great,” you click your tongue. “He’s kind of a dud. Did you know?” You can hear your dad’s smirk in his voice.

You scoff with a small smile. “Dad! Don’t be rude.”

“Just sayin’. Are you almost ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Don’t stress out to much. I can tell he really likes you.”

You smile at his assurance. You feel a tiny bit more relaxed. If your dad says that, it must be true, right?

“I’ll be down in a couple of minutes,” you say.

“Okay, sounds good. Make sure it is a couple minutes. Your brother is about to eat all the food.” You hear his footsteps lull behind your door.

You take off your dress, choosing your high-waisted acid-wash jeans and plain black turtle neck. You tuck the shirt into your pants, pulling up your sleeves so you can touch up your makeup and put on your accessories.

You curl your lashes again now that they’re dry. You re-swipe your lipstick that’s a dark-wine. You clasp a gold necklace on and stick in little hoops. You spray your perfume into the air, closing your eyes and walking into it. You slip on a pair of socks that happen to be neon pink, but you couldn’t care less. No one is going to obsess over your feet, right?

You take a deep breath as you open your door. You hear your mom laughing like a hyena, the embarrassment settling in. You walk down the stairs, turning the corner. It’s a weird sight. Steve stands at the dinner table next to your little brother, helping your mom set the silverware. He’s talking to your dad about some sci-fi stuff.

He actually doesn’t look out of place. In fact, he looks so normal, like it’s meant to be like this. The more you stare, the more natural it feels for him to be so close with your family, to be in your house.

“There’s the girl of the hour!” your mom grins.

Steve looks up from the table. At first, he peers up at you. Then he lifts his head up all the way, straightening his back. His eyes are wide, jaw slack just like the night you wore his clothing. You feel vulnerable again, but it’s not an uncomfortable feeling like it was then. You smile bashfully, clasping your hands behind your back.

“Here, I’ll finish up.” Your mom grabs the silverware from him, ushering him forward.

He walks up to you, eyes floating to every inch of you. “You look… great.” His voice is breathy and soft, like he’s just ran a mile.

Your eyes scan him. He looks so put-together tonight. He’s wearing a pair of khakis with a baby pink polo. His collar is perfectly folded, the bottom of his shirt tucked into his pants that are held up by a belt. His hair is combed over, a few fly-always resting on his forehead.

“So you do. Is that a new shirt?” you ask. “Yeah, it is,” he blushes. “I didn’t like what I had in my closest. I wanted to look my best for tonight.”

Your heart warms and your eyes soften. You awe silently. “That’s so nice, Steve.”

“Anything for you,” he says, his eyes boring into yours. “A-And your family, of course.”

You giggle softly, “right. Well, let’s go and eat. Are you hungry?”

He smirks a little, now looking you up and down suggestively. “Starving.”

You slap his chest, shooting him a glare while you try to suppress a smile.

You two walk into the kitchen, your mom stopping you.

“Let me take a picture of you two!”

You frown, “that’s unnecessary.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Steve states. “I hate you,” you mutter.

“No, you love me,” he smirks.

You heart stops for a second. You stare at him, every word from your brain escaping you. His eyes are wide and he looks regretful. He obviously didn’t mean to say that.

You’re brought back to reality when your mom starts talking again. You feel like you have to say something.

“You wish.”

He forces a laugh, all the air exiting his lungs. He does wish, actually.

You both smile for your mom, having to try a little too hard to look happy now.

“You two are so cute. Steve, would you like a copy of these?” your mom asks.

“Uh, yeah. Definitely,” he replies.

You both walk to the table. You’re sitting across from each other, avoiding eye contact.

“So, Steve, do you have any siblings?” your dad questions.

“Nope, but I wish I did.”

You take a bite of your mashed potatoes, taking a drink of water after. You listen to your parents talk to Steve. It sounds like their on a game show. Asking him question after question, acting like there’s some sort of reward if he answers right. You wonder if you think the reward would be dating you. That’s probably what your dad thinks. Your mom would be happy no matter what if two started dating.

“So, how did you two meet?” your mom asks.

“At school.” you say it likes it’s the most obvious thing. “I want specifics, honey.” She looks to Steve for an answer.

“Well, we had mutual friends. You know Tina, right?” Steve asks.

“Yes. She’s a nice girl,” your mom nods. “Yeah, well, Tina invited Y/n to a party. I was invited by Tina’s friend’s boyfriend, Tommy. We both started talking and hit it off,” Steve explains.

You want to scoff and snort, but you keep your mouth silent. You try to have no reaction at all. Not one that will tell your parents that’s not exactly the truth.

You two did meet at a party. It was Tina’s party and Tommy did invite Steve. You two did start talking. You two danced, putting your hands all over each other. Steve had leaned down to whisper in your ear. He told you how beautiful you looked. That led you two to escape to Tina’s parents bedroom where you both had the best sex of your lives.

“Y/n, what’re you smiling about?” your dad asks.

You look up from your plate, eyes meeting Steve who has a knowing smirk on his face, then looking at your parents.

“Oh, nothing,” you answer.

You’re lucky your parents are so wrapped up in Steve, they leave it at that.

Steve’s foot brushes up your leg, slithering up your jeans. You swat it away, giving him a dirty look. He does this smirk where half of his mouth goes up. It makes all the girls go crazy. You included.

You scoot up in your seat, crossing your legs. Steve brows raise, like he’s challenging you. You stick you nose up, turning your face away and ignoring him.

The rest of the dinner couldn’t have gone better. Your parents are on a first-name basis with Steve. Before you walked Steve to his car, your mom asked him to come over again. You couldn’t have asked for a better result of Steve meeting your parents.

“You need to convince your mom to give me that roast beef recipe,” Steve says.

You chuckle, “I’ll see what I can do. I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I had a great time. Your parents are very welcoming. I was nervous, honestly,” he admits. You tilt your head to the side, your body following in suit. “Really, why?”

He shrugs, becoming shy. “It’s always nerve-racking meeting a girl’s parents.”

“Mmm, I bet. Especially when it’s the girl you exclusively have sex with,” you tease.

“Yep. Only in these situations I’m nervous.” He smiles a little, leaning against his car. He looks so hot in the street lights. They’re illuminating half of his face. His lips are pink and glistening with spit as he just licked them. His hands are stuffed in his jacket pockets. His pants are tight around his waist, shirt now untucked. You’re sure if he reached up, you would be able to see his happy trail.

The air between you two is tense. You feel hot without even touching him. His eyes burn a trial into your body as he traces it. You open your mouth, vapor coming out as your exhale. His eyes are trained on your lips now. You feel a gravitational pull towards him. This time, you don’t pull away.

You lean in, pressing your lips to his softly. You kiss him slowly, savoring how it feels. His fit yours perfectly. That’s part of why you love kissing him. The other part is how it makes you feel.

His hands find your waist and he pulls you closer. You kiss each other faster now. You’re panting into each other’s mouth, teeth clashing and tongues meeting. You find his car keys in his jacket, unlocking his car and swinging the door open. You push him into the backseat, climbing on top of him.

“What about your parents?” Steve asks. You look over your shoulder, seeing their bedroom light turned off. “They’re going to bed now. They don’t care.”

Steve smiles and nods. “Okay.”

You shut the door and Steve sits against the middle seat. He untucks your turtle neck, pulling it over your head. His eyes dance around your boobs, hands undoing your bra and cupping your tits. He begins to kiss your neck while pinching your nipples.

“You looked so pretty at dinner,” he whispers, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Thank you,” you moan. You begin to roll your hips against his, your clit catching on his clothed boner. Your hands run through his hair, pulling at the nape of his neck.

“You look so pretty now,” he speaks again, sucking on the junction of your shoulder and neck. He licks a trail down to the valley of your breasts. You look down at him, your eyes boring into his. “So do you,” you speak.

You feel his neck get hot under your skin. He dives his head down and sucks on your boobs, pushing them together and fondling them. He groans against your skin as you grind against him.

You take off his shirt, your hands feeling over his chest. You begin to scoot off his lap, finding every mole on his skin and kissing them. You undo his belt buckle and pants. He helps you take them off, sliding them down until they pool at his ankles. You take off your own jeans, both of you laughing as you find it hard to take off your jeans in a car sitting the way you are.

You flip to the seat next to him, finally being able to slide them off. Before you can get back on his lap, he grabs your waist, placing his hand on your thigh. The pads of his fingers tease up your thigh. You begin to whine, needing him more and more.

“Steve, please,” you beg. “Please what, baby?” he breathes out.

You’re becoming to desperate. You grab his fingers, pushing your panties to the side. You place his first finger against your clit, sighing in relief. He captures your lips in a wet and hot kiss while he rubs your clit. He slips his finger down to your slit, wetting his finger before returning to your clit. With his other hand, he enters you.

“So wet,” he comments against your lips. “Wonder why,” you remark.

He smiles while kissing you. You grab onto his hair, squirming under him. “Fuck, Steve,” you pant. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with the combination of him rubbing your clit and his fingers hitting your g-spot. Before you know it, you’re about to come.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you rush out. Your thighs clamp against his hands.

He pulls his head away from your lips, wanting to watch you come. He’s mesmerized by the way your brows knit together. Your mouth stays open, drool coming out the corner. Your chest is heaving, breathy moans leaving your throat. His cock strains against his boxers as you come.

He slows his movements, eventually coming to a halt. You let out a satisfied sigh, giving him a smile.

“Was that good?” he asks. “Yes,” you nod. “I can think of something better, though.”

You take your underwear off, leaving you naked. Steve loves the sight. Your body has always been so beautiful to him. He loves every curve, every scar, your stretch marks, the softness of your thighs and stomach. He loves the way your body feels against his. He loves the way you take him so well. He loves the way you say his name. He loves your laugh. He loves the way you look at him, and the smile you have when you’re annoyed at him. He loves your banter. He loves how you try to be kind to everyone, even Carol. He loves how smart you and the way you think. He loves the way you make him feel: safe and warm and loved.

Before he can stop himself, he whispers. “I love you.”

You don’t know if you’ve heard him correctly. Your heart jolts at what he could’ve said. You give him a weird look. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Are you ready?” he asks. He pushes his boxers down, his dick standing tall and hard.

You nod move on from your thoughts, grabbing a condom from the package he keeps in his glove box. He slips it on, making sure it’s secure before you start. You put your hands on his shoulders, biting your lip as you sink down on him.

“Feels so good, Y/n,” he grunts. You moan in reply, getting halfway before pulling off again. You move up and down halfway before finally bottoming out. His girth stretches you out perfectly. The tip of his dick brushes up against your g-spot. You begin to bounce, the friction causing Steve to sweat and grab at your ass.

“Shit, baby. Just like that, yeah. You’re doing so good, taking me so well,” he rambles.

You watch as his eyes screw shut, a crease forming between his brows. His top lip opens up to where you can see the sides of his gums and his pearly whites. His nails dig into the curve of your ass as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

After a couple of minutes Steve is close. He looks down at you, loving to see your body on his. He always does this when he’s about to come. You don’t know why, but you only assume your body turns him on. And that’s part of it. But his secret is that it turns him on more than anything knowing it’s you he’s having sex with. Seeing you and touching you gets him going the most. Tonight is no exception.

You reach a hand down, beginning to rub your clit. He swears under his breath as he watches you touch himself, his dick twitching inside of you. Your head lolls back, your eyes rolling.

“Steve, I-I’m gonna. Ah, oh,” you pant. You squeeze around him, one last thought coming to head before you release. I love you.

————

Part Four coming soon!

taglist form

@rootbeerfaygo @murdockcastleslut @mrs-dr-reid @milkiane @mitskimybelovedd @sleepilysworld @peterpanouat @carelesslex @anonymousfleshbag @are-y0u-sirius @stilloverthinking @tbipanic @sunflowerfive @xguardgirlx @sarahwasfound @wayfaring----stranger @arkofblake @misaamaneswifey @itscrystalruby @the-little-dancer-girl @enthyn @godcreatoreli @m-rae23 @lastwandastan @kenzi-woycehoski @wetwilliam02 @katsukis1wife @mushy-mushroom04 @harringtons-hellfire @aree-you-sirius-rn @jesuisbenny @alana4610 @angel-jz @evansflowers

#steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things

[doiefy]

crimson watercolour // johnny seo

genre: body horror, biopunk, cyberpunk

member: just john lol sorry

warnings: coarse language (or not, I don’t really remember), blood, gore, self-mutilation (not mental health or self-harm related, it’s just a gory sci-fi plot point), barely proofread but I think it’s passable.

note: a spooky little piece i decided to do as i’m making massive changes to my ‘fight or flight’ series… partial spoilers but i don’t expect to be finishing the first fic any time soon, and i feel like it’s not for the tumblr demographic anyways LOL (ao3 here i come). sort of bloody and gory stuff ahead, you have been warned.

*****

MIDNIGHT IN THE WEST LANES OF THE QUARRY, wrapped tightly in the arms of sin and vice: Johnny had found himself in a gnarly predicament.

He slid to the ground spewing profanities, his backside meeting the metal of the door mere seconds after it had slammed shut. The entire thing shook beneath his weight, protesting further when he threw his head back against it. Blunt force hammering into his skull, pain burying deep into his head and racing down his spine like a current—just a precursor for a long, long night.

He did it again, to be sure, pitching backward until he heard a sickening thump. It hurt less now. Good. Then he brought the tin can back up to his lips and finished the rest of his drink, grimacing when he felt grains of sand on his tongue. Peering into the bottom of the now-empty can, he found jagged edges of metal soaked in a discoloured foam. A suspicious crimson stain sat at the bottom, as if the bartender—last seen suffering from the dryness of the Lanes and a badly-split lip—had spat in Johnny’s cup before filling it with lukewarm beer.

No matter, he thought, mustering a condescending sneer. They were no strangers to disease and illness on the streets of the Quarry, and he had a multitude of other issues to worry about: beginning with a group of men somewhere on the other side of the door, all hellbent on tearing him from limb to limb. Leraje had made good promise of carving his face into a gargoyle, if he ever got his hands on him.

Suppose Johnny would just have to do it himself, first.

His reflection awaited him in the bathroom mirror, rough and fatigued, somewhat of a hazy memory. Not quite him. Not perfect, hardly recognizable to most. A softer jawline and heart-shaped face that certainly made him feel foreign in his own body. His eyes were a little meaner than he remembered, bright red and angular like a pair of garnets. His lips were drawn back in a sharp scowl, not entirely to his liking. But it was effective enough around these parts, able to fit him perfectly into the crowd of lowlife party-goers and spiteful drunks.

Working quickly, he slipped out of his jacket and tossed it onto the counter. His shirt followed, pulled over his head in one smooth motion and discarded haphazardly. He debated, for just a second, whether it would be necessary to carve the ink out of his shoulder. For as long as he’d been in hiding, it was the one part of him left recognizable, never altered, never defaced.

“Short, scrawny, black-haired, blue-eyed. Bird tattoo on his arm.”

“Tall-ish, muscular. Black hair. Swallow tattooed on his left shoulder.”

For someone they wanted to kill so badly, they could never paint the right picture.

“He’s got a cute little birdie on his shoulder,” Jungwoo had once said—directly to Johnny’s face, completely unaware that his bounty was right in front of him. “Seen anyone like that recently?”

“No,” Johnny had responded with a snide curl of his lip. He’d tossed a handful of change onto the counter without regard, all whilst holding a blade to the neck of a man hidden below him. It was the small, wiry bartender he’d robbed just moments prior, whose clothes and identity he’d assumed when Jungwoo’s goons backed him into a corner. “Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

The Assembly had been hunting him for sport, like the uber rich topsiders hunted game in the summertime. Johnny had eluded them at every turn only by the skin of his teeth.

By his skin, flesh and bones, by the breaking and tearing of his own body to conform to whatever illusions necessary.

He studied his face for a few moments before taking the knife from his pocket: a handy contraption he’d built himself, with dual blades that could be deployed with the click of a button. Click, like a mechanical pencil. A thin sliver of metal emerged from his hand, gleaming, thrilled to see light again, already on its way to mark the canvas like it had a mind of its own.

It was quick enough. Two symmetrical slashes, one down each side of the face, from the undereye to the hollows of his cheekbone. Deep, painful, nicking something solid on the second stroke. The ink were a deep, glistening red colour, streaking down to his collarbone.

No sooner than he’d begun to bleed, the loose ends of his skin began to knit together. Cells into fibres into tissue into muscle—spiralling into place, regenerating, remodelling. And when they’d smoothed over into patches of new skin, there was a sharpness to his face that hadn’t been there prior.

Though not quite enough.

Again, the knife came. This time below the first cuts, deeper. Harder. Hitting bone purposefully. He hissed as a white-hot sear burst on his vision, lurching forward to clutch at the edge of the counter—before he flipped the blade around his hand and went for more. The thin scalpel now replaced by a thick blade, he drew. An artist hard at work, immersed in their vision, simply could not be stopped. A splatter of red met the floor.

He stopped only to observe. To critique. It looked too much like a past persona: the eyes too small, the mouth too low, the expression still far too cynical, like the bartender facade he’d used to fool Jungwoo. So he relaxed his brow, contorted his features to where he wanted them to be, used his fingers and a smidge of his own blood to mark where he would cut. This was detailed work, after all. He didn’t have time to measure precisely, surely, but he wasn’t a heathen.

Thud. A violent sound behind him; the door shuddered on its hinges, causing Johnny to momentarily lose control of the blade. He felt it cut deep into the corner of his eye and sever a half dozen vessels. Yet there was no fear—it wouldn’t have been the first time he gouged his own eye out, if he was a few millimetres off. There was only a certain irritation at the disruption.

“Someone in there?” a familiar voice called from outside. It was loud and booming, robotic in some strange way, almost as if it’d been fed to a machine first. But above all, it was taunting. “You’ve been in there a long time, friend… Do you need any help? The drink wasn’t too… strong, was it?”

Damn Kim Jungwoo and his timing. Clenching his jaw, Johnny ran the tap and splashed water onto his face. His blood splattered across the sink like crimson watercolour being flung across a canvas. With drenched hands, he slicked his hair back and redressed, then picked up his empty can.

He considered himself an artist in many regards. He had an aptitude for lies and trickery unlike any other. He had lived the lives of upwards of a hundred characters—all hand-drawn, hand-sculpted with the finest material, created with intention and nuance and all, never hollow or useless. The flesh and bone were only the first movement; performance was the second, even if it humiliated him to his core. Johnny believed himself to be an actor suited for centre stage and spotlight, but seldom could he claim his rightful place. Not now. Not yet.

When he flung the bathroom door open a few moments later, he emerged drunk and deranged, tipping over and grabbing onto the first person he saw. A symphony of distasteful club music and voices roared for his entrance, and he thundered above it, spitting and sputtering like an animal.

Within seconds, Jungwoo had flung him aside. They were here for the man with the bird tattoo, not this fool. So Johnny tripped past several party-goers and tumbled to the ground, yet never letting go of his tin can. Then he sat amidst stomping feet and the smell of sweat, feeling the symphony vibrate his bones, laughing until he choked. Part of it was for show; the Assembly wouldn’t bother with someone who looked like him. Part of it was to revel in his victory. In the victories to come.

For one day, he would cast aside all the characters and performances, then rise above them.

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct drabbles #nct oneshot #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #nct blurbs #nct johnny #johnny seo #johnny #johnny fanfic #johnny drabble #johnny oneshot #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey Is: Chapter Sixteen: Appropriate Behavior Between Friends

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

Maybe Gordon really should just go ahead and cut his hair short. Getting it into a pony tail one-handed was possible but a massive pain and it wasn’t a particularly good ponytail, always coming undone far before the day was through, requiring fixing it or just dealing with it. Or maybe he could just let it hang down.

Smoothing it down, he looked in the mirror hung up on his closet door. It looked good but… as soon as he did anything or if it was windy outside, it would become a nuisance. The ponytail was always the easy compromise but with how much of a pain that was now, maybe it wasn’t worth it anymore. Damn, that sucked but what else could he do?

“Want help with your ponytail?”

Gordon turned to look at Benrey standing in the bedroom doorway, looking at him. “Huh?”

“Your ponytail. Want me to do it? ‘Cause you only got one hand so its always super loose and comes undone and stuff.”

A prank? … Maybe. But when they cuddled and Benrey stroked his hands through Gordon’s hair, it always felt rather nice. And it was the exact solution to the problem he’d just been contemplating. So why not give Benrey a chance and if he messed up Gordon’s hair for a prank, it’d seal the deal on him cutting it off. “Sure. Thanks. You know how to do it?”

“Uh… it can’t be that hard, can it? Just give me one of your hair thingies and then sit down somewhere I can reach easy.”

True, a basic ponytail really wasn’t that hard figure out. So he handed Benrey the hair tie he’d already grabbed as he went past him to lead the way into the kitchen. The chairs there were the perfect height.

Before sitting down though he turned Benrey and… no, he might regret it in a few minutes but he trusted him. He was the one who’d brought up the topic of Gordon’s hair last night after all, perhaps as a precursor to whatever prank he was about to try to pull now but maybe not too. “Thanks,” was all he said before turning back around and sitting around.

A moment later Benrey’s hands were going through his hair. As always how cool and smooth they were made it an unique experience, a pleasant one. Benrey was just nice to touch and be touched by in general.

“So uh… if we gotta, when we heading to old Black Mesa facility?” Benrey asked.

“Not until after we’re sure your data hasn’t already been salvaged ‘cause I’m not going back there unless I’m sure we have to.” Or they could wait until the teams already being sent down there found everything and brought it back. It’s not like they were looking at any of it on the spot, just gathering everything they could to be sorted through later. Then again it might be better to not risk Benrey getting found out if they could avoid it. That was something they’d decide on later though.

“Yeah, I know, duh. But how long is that gonna take?”

“I don’t know. A week, maybe two, could be longer. It depends on a lot of stuff. We’ll start looking tomorrow though.” And it wouldn’t even be suspicious because now that they had a few things up and running, it wouldn’t be viewed as odd if Gordon suggested they start going through the experiment data for anything else that could be brought back that might be helpful in Black Mesa’s struggle to get back to its feet. “I’m second in command now,” and still proud of that even if how he’d got that promotion had been less than fun. He’d still earned it though, for all the trauma as well as how strongly he’d pushed himself onto Breen upon returning to help them. “So I can probably make the call on who all looks at that stuff and set just us to it. If I can’t quite get away with that, it’ll take longer. But if you’re anxious about it, I guess we could…”

“Nah, I’m not,” Benrey interrupted, “just bored.” Figures. “But uh… done.” He pulled his hands back. “I do it right?”

Gordon reached back to finger his ponytail. It was a bit higher than he normal set it but not too tight or loose and far more secure than he’d been able to get it since losing his hand. “It’s perfect. Thanks a ton.” This was certainly far easier and faster.

“Awesome. I’ll uh… be in the basement today then. Probably gonna be a while so go hang out with Tommy or Coomer.”

Gordon stood, turning to see him starting in that direction. He followed. “Why?”

Benrey remained silent until reaching the basement door, pausing just outside it before turning back to look at him. “Gonna do some shape shifting. Try to see if I can’t stumble upon a… true form or whatever you called it.”

Oh! Gordon wanted to see that. “Do you think I could…”

“No,” Benrey interrupted, his tone not particularly sharp but it still firm enough to leave no room for trying to convince him to change his mind. “Don’t come down. I’ll see you later.” And with that he back stepped, phasing through the door, leaving Gordon alone in the hall.

Damn it. Gordon could technically sneak down there in like half an hour when Benrey might not be watching for him anymore. Just a peek nothing more. But… Benrey had told him not to and so he shouldn’t. Benrey deserved privacy just in general but also especially so because likely he hadn’t been allowed much of it in the past.

And so, with some effort he turned and headed back into the living room. He could play some games like he had when Benrey had gone on that walk yesterday. But… knowing Benrey was in the house doing something interesting would make it tempting sneak down to peek so he’d head out instead. He could follow through on that promise to replace Tommy’s gooed OSHA manuals. Maybe get the promised PS3 for Benrey too. All the big expenses were taken care of now and they were firmly settled in, so he could easily justify it. And heck, while he was at it, why not go back to the idea of getting Dr. Coomer Super Punch Out and a SNES too and if he could find anything spaced themed to give to Bubby when he returned from his trip to Aperture, he’d get that too.

Pulling out his phone, he brought up his text chat with Tommy. ‘Want to go on a mini-shopping spree with me? You need to tell me where to go to replace your OSHA manuals.’ And which ones needed to be replaced because Gordon didn’t remember.

The reply came blessedly rather quickly. ‘Sure. I’ll walk down. See you soon.’ Awesome, that took care of the loneliness thing that Gordon still needed to get over. That was easier said than done though so… he could give himself a break on this.

***

The hardest part about big changes when shape shifting was the bones. Benrey could change all his soft parts without too much issue but when not hyped up on whatever was in the air on Xen, changing his skeletal structure took time, effort, and energy. Even more now than back at Black Mesa thanks to his general power level being stuck somewhat low.

Perhaps he could try dissolving his bones entirely and just be a mass of flesh and whatever organs he felt like making, if any at all. That would leave him with no structure to his form. It’d be harder to move and would he even be able to speak? The hard mouth parts were important for speech after all. So… he would maybe try that idea later.

For now, because the one thing he did know about himself was that he had a connection to Xen – from there or made from something found there – he would he would try out some Xen forms. Having encountered headcrabs first, that seemed like a good place to start. Not having a headcrab in front of him made it hard; what the heck did their bones do? But he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be his true form anyway. Something along the way to making it or between it and whatever form he tried next might be though and thus it was worth doing.

It took a couple hours but he did eventually have his best approximation of a headcrab. The bone structure was off for sure, it was too big – he could only shrink himself so much – and he added an eye on top between the two arm like appendages because he liked being able to see – presumably the real things had some other kind of sensory organ he didn’t know enough about to be able to replicate – but it was close enough. It was also very much not his true form, nor was any form leading to it. Having no desire to linger in it, he quickly starting shifting again.

Next he shifted into a peeper puppy. Already in a somewhat quadrupedal form, it took less time but long enough that the boredom of doing nothing else still ate at him. He should’ve done this in front of the TV. Gordon would’ve been able to see if he had though and… he didn’t need the distraction of Gordon watching him contort his form and reshape his entire skeletal structure repeatedly as if he were putting on a fun show or science documentary.

He made the eyes last mostly because they were easy but also because upon opening them he was met with a far bigger field of vision than he’d ever had before. Even on Xen when he’d been physically bigger and thus been able to see more at once as a result, it hadn’t felt like this. It was pretty damn cool if a bit disorienting. Maybe he should leave and run around outside like this, really take in the sights. … Later. He had a mission today, one he’d been impatient enough about to not put off until tomorrow. So some other day he’d turn into a peeper puppy again and have Gordon take him for a walk around town.

Next he shifted into one of the acid spitting squid fellows that he couldn’t recall the full name they’d come up with for them. Given that he couldn’t recall that, likely his approximation of one was even less accurate but he was beyond caring about perfection because it and the lead up to it didn’t feel right either. Next was the guys who shot lighting. They were pretty cool with their weird joints. If he’d gone for them first he’d have mussed about and tried to figure out the lightening thing, assuming it wasn’t magic or whatever. But as it was, he wasn’t in the mood.

By the time he was done – or more like close enough because there was no way he go the leg bones right, he couldn’t walk on them – he was almost ready to call it quits. It wasn’t working and he was bored and tired and hungry even though he’d slept last night and ate like two days ago. But this was more exhausting than he ever would’ve thought.

Groaning, he slumped into the awful cold concrete wall. This was so lame! Why did he decide to try this? Who cared if he even had a true form or what it was if so. … But he’d already committed and had only one more alien he was familiar with the shape of. Except no because there was also the little floating guys with the big brains. Ugh! But still he was close so…

With another groan, still leaning face first into the horrible wall, he started shifting again. The guys that shot the bugs weren’t too different from the lighting guys anyway so… might as well complete this just for the sake of it. So he could say he did and then next time he could try other forms, whatever came to mind… assuming there was a next time anyway because so far this was proving to be lame.

As expected, despite looking for it, no ‘right’ feeling came to him as he shifted into his best exhausted go at one of the bug shooting guys. Same with the brain guy. But finally he was done! … But actually no because he didn’t want to go out like this, couldn’t if he tried because these things obviously couldn’t walk so he hadn’t bothered to try to make leg bones that could work well. And his hands were even worse, little more than nubs because trying on them had been too much work.

And so after rolling onto his back to stare up at the now dreadful basement ceiling with it single stupid light bulb that was too damn bright hanging down with a long pull cord to turn it on and off, he started shifting again. At least for this he knew what the human skeleton looked like – there’d been models of it in several rooms in the old facility – meaning it took less mussing around until he found the right shapes. The hardest as always were the hands and feet because for some god forsaken reason they were filled with so many little bones. Getting it perfect wasn’t necessary but the hands in particular were important to get more right than not because if they were wrong it’d be harder to hold things such as game controllers. And so as always, despite how tired he was, he took extra when forming his hands.

By the time he was finally done with that and reforming his old human shape in general, he was about ready to roll over and take a nap right here on the floor. The only thing stopping him was how cold it was down here. So instead he stood and put his clothes back on.

Upon finishing he felt more right than he had since starting this wretched exercise. Maybe this was his true form after all? … Nah, he was just used to this. It was the best form for his purposes most of the time so he used it a lot and thus it felt normal and ‘right’ compared to all the shapes he’d just taken for the first time. Meaning if he had a true form, he’d still likely default to this and thus would it be worth it to continue to try and find it? Maybe not but having already put in so much time and effort failing to figure anything out made the question more annoying. It’d of course be easiest to just wait patiently until he had his records but… he wanted to know now. It wasn’t happening today no matter what though.

And so he slogged back up the stairs and through the cling-wrap still covering the doorway and the door itself. Normally phasing through things didn’t take much effort but right now… it did. Ugh. He hadn’t felt this bad since being killed on Xen. Upon waking up though, the energy boost from Xen’s air had restored him fairly well though before he’d jumped through the last portal before it could finish closing. Here though he didn’t have that, leaving him to just feel crappy for however long it would last. Ugh.

In the hall now, the TV could be heard coming from the gamer pad, its door opened Benrey crept that way, peeking his head in. Gordon and Tommy sat on the couch. On the TV was… Melee. Cool, they were playing games together. Benrey could join them… or just sit and watch.

First though, he pulled back and made his way to the kitchen. Gordon had made a point once about him trying different foods and seeing what he liked. Well it was time to do that. He opened the fridge and opened the carton of eggs. There were six left inside. A normal amount to eat? Maybe. Having experience with trying to eat pigeon eggs in the past – the gooey mess inside was kind of yucky – he went straight to swallowing these whole. Next he ate the carton.

How cold it all was, was rather unpleasant, especially after how cold the basement had been. Used to be he never thought about it or let it bother him much but now after being encouraged and allowed to bask in warmth more often, the cold felt worse by comparison. So closing the fridge, he switched to the pantry. Lots more cardboard stuff in here which was good because he liked cardboard. He settled on eating one of the two boxes of protein bars, the inside of which wasn’t to dissimilar in flavor to cardboard. The wrappers were a bit annoying but he’d survived eating far worse. To finish off his meal he went under the sink for one of his soap bars. Too tired to bother putting it in the microwave, he ate it as was.

Finally he felt a bit better; less like he was immediately going to fall over but still rather tired and worn. If he tried hard he could probably hide it but… why bother? It didn’t matter if Gordon and Tommy knew he was exhausted, right? So, dragging his feet a little, he made he way back down the hall to the gamer pad. It was getting dark out, the main source of light quickly becoming the TV. He hit the light switch as he walked in, drawing Tommy and Gordon’s gazes to him.

“Oh, hey Benrey,” Tommy said with a smile.

Benrey started for the couch. “Hey Tommy.”

“Any luck with your uh… thing?” Gordon asked.

“No.” Benrey sat next to him, right next to him. Before he could respond to that, Benrey took his arm – the right one so he wasn’t using that hand for anything anyway – and draped it around himself, allowing him pull his legs up and to press into Gordon’s side. He was warm and soft and it didn’t matter that Tommy was right there on Benrey’s other side because Tommy was cool and thus shouldn’t care that Benrey and Gordon liked to cuddle.

“Uh… okay.” Gordon was tense but shifted his arm around Benrey to hold him a bit more securely regardless. “First of all, you’re fucking freezing.”

“Mm-hmm.” That’s certainly how Benrey would describe it.

“Second, are you… shorter?”

“Maybe.” Probably. He hadn’t exactly been focused on reforming to the same exact size and shape. And thus since the last form he’d tried had been only a bit bigger than as small as he could go, he likely hadn’t made himself the same height as before. That was fine though. Being tall was good for intimidating people but being short was good for being annoying. The latter was more fun most of the time, certainly with Gordon, which was why he’d defaulted to being shorter than him pretty earlier on. Being even shorter now would maybe make him more annoying.

“And uh… are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

“Just tired and cold.” And frustrated over having spent almost the entire day doing something that proved to have not only been a stupid waste of time but was also exhausting.

“All right then.” Gordon didn’t sound too sure but he relaxed a little more anyway.

“You guys have um… grown awfully close, huh?” Tommy said.

“I guess so, yeah,” Gordon replied. “Maybe don’t uh… tell the others. Not that it’s bad or… or shameful or anything like that, just… you know how Bubby is sometimes and Dr. Coomer’s uh… he can be kinda weird too.”

“I won’t tell, promise. But it’s nice to see you’ve become good friends now even if uh… you’re a bit closer than I’d thought. That’s nice too though.”

It was nice, very nice. Nice enough that if Tommy weren’t there, Benrey might have just crawled into Gordon’s lap at this point before purring himself the rest of the way to sleep against his chest. But there were limits to what he was willing to do even with Tommy as the only witness and that crossed them, especially the purring. He’d tried several times in the past to get rid of whatever inside him made the purring noise but it just seemed to be something his body could do in any form he had that breathed which was all of them because it was too uncomfortable not to for longer than an hour or two.

“Anyway, Benrey,” Gordon nudged him slightly, “remember how I promised I’d get a Play Station 3? Well I finally did it. Got your Heavenly Sword game too.”

That was about the only thing that could rouse Benrey from his exhausted slump. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“We even set it up,” Tommy added, “it’s got internet and everything.”

“Play Station Plus?”

“Of course.”

Benrey had to hold back the urge to burst into purring after all. “Ooh you’re the best. Tommy you too, you’re the second best. I wanna play it.”

“We’re not particularly attached to this match so sure, go for it.” Gordon moved his arm, allowing Benrey to get up easier. Leaving his warmth sucked but it was Play Station and Heavenly Sword, finally.

***

Not long after Tommy eventually left due to how late it was getting, Benrey shifted from just leaning into Gordon’s side with his arm around him to sitting in his lap. He didn’t pause his game for even a second or two during the switch either, impressive. With how he only ever seemed to weigh half of what he should, it was a non-issue, especially being noticeably a little shorter. How much would be hard to say until they stood next to each other again but it was almost certainly a thing.

Unsure where else to put his arms now, Gordon wrapped them around Benrey. And even more intimate position but not really new except for the fact that they were doing it on the couch. Also new to the couch was… Benrey starting to purr. Which erased the lingering awkwardness that perhaps Gordon was the only one who’d even felt. If they cuddled in bed why couldn’t they cuddle on the couch sometimes too?

Just two friends cuddling, nothing weird about that. … Okay maybe it was a little weird but only because of what society defined as appropriate behavior between friends being so needlessly strict. They were just friends, nothing more going on here. Even if the sound and feel of Benrey purring kinda made Gordon wish he could purr too so he could express how good this felt without having to say the words. Words were hard and weird.

As pleasant as it was though, Benrey’s game play was flagging. It had been for a while, getting worse and worse as his evident exhaustion continued to drag at him once the rush of his excitement had started to wear off. His head was lolling too, he had to jerk it back up every few seconds.

“You’re tired.” Gordon kept his voice low but Benrey still seemed to almost flinch a little at it.

“A bit, yeah, but I’m fine. I can keep playing.” Even his voice sounded sleepy. It was late so that made sense but… he’d been asleep when Gordon woke this morning, meaning he shouldn’t be tired. But even on nights he did need sleep, he’d never seemed this tired.

“Shape shifting took a lot out of you, huh?”

Benrey’s purring stuttered but didn’t stop. “Yeah.”

Maybe that was why he hadn’t wanted Gordon to watch. Part of it anyway. Likely it was also more of that not wanting to be put in a metaphorical glass box and made to perform thing. It would be nice to know more. Like what kind of approach he was taking to finding his true form, what all shapes did he try so far, why exactly it had taken most of the day and left him so exhausted. Now wasn’t a good time to ask and perhaps never would be. If he wanted to share he had to know by now Gordon would be interested in hearing so asking would just be nosy. So instead…

“Probably time to head to bed.” It was still only a bit less than an hour earlier than their normal usually Benrey impose bed time, but Gordon was feeling rather sleepy. Probably due to Benrey’s purring. It was more soothing than a cat’s purring and that was saying something.

“Nah, I can play a bit longer. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“You’ve already played for hours though and it’ll still be here tomorrow. So it’s finally my turn to insist on bedtime. You don’t get to say ‘no’ ‘cause you never let me say ‘no’.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you could die if you don’t sleep, I can’t. … Or don’t think I can. But even if I can uh… I’ll come back.”

Instead of pointing out that just because he could come back from the dead didn’t mean that that death wouldn’t suck or that he deserved rest even if only because being tired was unpleasant, Gordon shifted his hold on him and stood, transferring him into a bridal carry. He let out a small yelp, his purring cutting out. A shame but it had to be done. “You can play more tomorrow, I promise. It’ll give you something to do while I’m at work looking for your stuff.”

“But… I don’t wanna.”

As much as Gordon liked the idea of carrying Benrey to bed and dropping him on it just because he could, Benrey still held the controller, the console and TV needed to be turned off and Gordon needed to get ready for bed. None of which he could do with only one real hand and his arms full of Benrey so he gently lowered to him his feet instead. He was indeed shorter. Where before he’d come up to Gordon’s shoulder he was now only up to mid-chest height. It was… cute; he was cute. No need to say that out loud though even if the temptation to had hit with the thought. Thank goodness he’d thought before speaking.

“I know but I’m going to bed so… you know,” he said instead. “You really do help a lot.” He wasn’t entirely nightmare free but even on the now rare instance in which he did have one, Benrey was always right nearby to make it better and help him fall back asleep.

“Damn it, fine. Bedtime. Only ‘cause I like you.”

“Thanks. I like you too.” It was true but for some reason saying it out loud felt… weird. Like the words were heavier than he’d intended. Thankfully Benrey didn’t seem to notice as he turned away to look at the TV again, allowing him to navigate to the ‘save and quit’ button in the menu. Shaking it off, Gordon turned and headed to get ready for bed. Probably it had felt weird because he was tired.

~

Next Chapter

#hlvrai #frenrey #benrey #hlvrai gordon

[merrysithmas]

We know Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship as Mater and Apprentice had many blurred lines. Obi-Wan often felt like the roles were revered or straight up non-existent because of Anakin’s natural power. So their relationship was very different from the typical dynamic. They very much became equals. How different from the standard would you say Anakin & Ashoka’s relationship is? And how does it differ from Anakin’s relationship/experience with Obi-Wan?

i really love this question. yes, anakin and obi-wan's dynamic was more a match of polarized equals. anakin was "too old" to be a student, and obi-wan was "too young/inexperienced" to be a teacher. both their father figure (Qui gon) died and left them in kind of a Brothers-Raising-Each-Other type manner.

i'll also go out on a limb and say Ahsoka and Anakin's dynamic was different (in a way) from usual Master-Padawan dynamics and i say this because ANAKIN HIMSELF was different in a way no other Jedi was, and therefore any dynamic within the strictures of the Order involving Anakin is going to be inherently deviated from the standard.

although i believe all Master-Padawan dynamics differ depending on the pair (some more like siblings, others more parental, others more career-minded and mentorly) i don't consider Masters to be "raising" their Padawans by any stretch of the imagination. the Jedi culture did not work in that way - they were a communal culture and did not have nuclear family units or "parents". so when i see ppl say "Obi-wan raised Anakin" or "Qui gon raised Obi-wan" i very, very much disagree with that. that is just not the nature of that assignment.

so that leads me to how i REALLY do think Anakin thrives in a family environment, and therefore "corrupts" his Jedi associations (Obi-wan, Ahsoka) with a blatant overt familial emotional link that is very much un-Jedi-like, but also very endearing, affecting, and emotionally pleasurable/safe for those involved.

Anakin, by letting his need for close emotional association bleed into his Jedi life (because of his cruel separation from Shmi), actually arguably improves the lives of Obi-wan and Ahsoka, though it is in harsh contrariness to Jedi Code. Something that Obi-wan in particular grapples uncomfortably with - he is often at odds with the intense love he devleops for Anakin (which is why he is so strict with him and strict with himself!).

(To digress, I'd say that as a demi-god agent of the Force, Anakin's need for an emotional anchor in Jedi training is a suggestion that it is something the Jedi lacked and needed to improve).

So where Obi-Ani become equals and partners (perfect word for them), for Ahsoka and Anakin I'd say he blatantly treats her like his daughter. Anakin sees himself as Ahsoka's young dad, protecting her and teaching her how to defend herself out in the universe. At the very least he is her older brother, her friend, but there are definitely fatherly overtones. It's in the nature of the Jedi culture to mix many types of emotional bonds. And although the fatherly-type of POV Anakin has towards his Padawan is not Jedi-Brand Acceptable, it makes Anakin a better person. And it makes Ahsoka a better person.

Anakin's best self comes out when he is a father - and his role with Ahsoka is the precursor to his adoration we see Vader have towards Luke. The married-esque dyad/bond partner-like affections he grows to form with Obi-wan reflect his relationship with Padme and how he is also made stronger when being a husband. He feels stable and safe and purpose-driven for his loved ones and their cause.

I'd say overall the difference btw Anakin & Obi-wan's partnership and Anakin & Ahsoka's is that Anakin + Obi were cast as equals from the start - not in age or demeanor but in situation and inexperience. They grew as brothers-in-arms and juggled with a strange dynamic in which neither really trusted or believed in the abilities of the other (and had a separate reason for tolerating one another- qui gon).

Anakin believed Obi-wan didn't want to train him, was jealous of him (because Qui gon chose him), and that he was being held back because of Obi-wan specifically. Obi-wan believe he wasn't capable of training Anakin, that he needed to appear older and wiser than his years to keep up with the expectations of the council and a new Padawan. They butt heads.

Anakin grows and eventually sees Obi-wan as a person, not a roadblock. He sees Obi-wan is also at the mercy of the Council and his indignation shifts from his former master to the source of the institution itself. He sees Obi-wan is often in agreement with him, feels relief from that, and they get close.

By the time TCW came around, their growing pains all but disappeared and the rivalry they shared grew into an intense friendship and partnership that plainly textually outshines Anakin's relationship with Padme. Anakin clearly loves Obi-wan. He loves fighting in a war. He loves being a hero. He never wants it to end because that means that close borne-of-war constant partnership with Obi-wan might end. It means the Jedi Order might take away something else he wants more than anything. And for Obi-wan's part, he enacts the Rako Hardeen arc to convince himself he isn't as attached to Anakin as Anakin is to him -- he doesn't succeed.

Where Anakin sees Obi-wan as a partner, he sees Ahsoka as someone under his wing. He loves her, comes to see her as her own person and admires her even as Vader. I'd say the big dead giveaway that he sees Ahsoka as his "daughter" is that he literally raises her with Obi-wan in this strange War Context. As I said before this is very much NOT the Jedi way (no nuclear families) but in the War much flies under the radar and Anakin craves that family unit.

He sees Obi-wan as a part of him, and Ahsoka as a part of them.

Ahsoka is the baby of he and Obi-wan's combined philosophies (as depicted in the Mortis Arc). She is precious to him not only because of what a stellar individual she turned out to be - but because she is "made" of he and Obi-wan together.

In fact, I'd argue this is very much a clear reason why she couldn't fit in the Order. She was a perfect Jedi. Perfectly balanced. Perfectly taught. Power (Ani) tempered by thoughtfulness (Obi), kindness (Ani) tempered by tact (Obi), quick action tempered by training, fairness tempered by judgement.

The Order, as an Institution at that point which was kowtowing to the Senate, simply could not live up to the standard she set.

I think it's pretty emotionally fulfilling to see her say "I am no Jedi" to Vader himself! She left the Order, as he did. Is critical of it, as he is. She is very much his Padawan.

But unlike Vader/Anakin, she retained her goodness. A jolt to Vader's consciousness. Yes, maybe the Jedi Order was wrong ... but does that mean he has to be, now, too?

Her last actions with Vader in Rebels mirror Luke's in ROTJ.

She calls out to him, refuses to leave him.

Obi-wan & Anakin are equals who form an intense love-based partnership based on a warsome youth, and unparalleled training situation. Their dynamic is a fighting amalgamation between brotherly, rivalry, older-sibling-as-the-parent sprinkled in, suspicion... which all eventually, miraculously, snowballs into the kind of love two soldiers have. No-One-Else-Gets-Us and What-We-Went-Through. And they're right. Their odd training dynamic. Their life at war. Becoming inseparable co-generals of a major offensive for years while The Republic ignores the war & the Jedi serve the Senate. Forgetting the Code in the dark ends of the Outer Rim when they are tired and alone. Obi and Ani become a well-rounded, in-step partnership in every sense. Maybe even a dyad.

Anakin's effuse affection for Obi-wan muddles Obi-wan's understanding of the Code because he, too, loves Anakin in return so much he eventually chooses Anakin over all else (through protecting Luke). He sees his truth apart from the Order he grew up in.

Anakin & Ahsoka are another pair where Anakin's affections & need for family bleed into the dynamic. Instead of being strictly student-teacher he forms a parental (with Obi-wan!) bond to her. There are also elements of a respected friendship, brotherly affection, and a plain admiration.

Ahsoka-Obi-Anakin purposefully and directly reflects Luke/Leia-Padme-Anakin in the narrative.

It shows Anakin's two "families", two partners, two sets of children, and the two lives he feels he must unfairly choose between.

He duplicated what he truly wanted under two sets of conditions (a family, a loving partner, children), but under the circumstances he can never have both, and it starts to drive him insane ... this thought of leaving one or the other.

it's up to the viewer to decide which better suited him, if any at all. and what meta influence his demi-god status had on the Order & Senate through these actions of his.

#ask #sw ask #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #they are THE family #i love this ask #obikin

[julymarte]

The Granblue World Reset Lore and Theories

this is me  being completely normal about the last  update and  bringing back stuff i already posted on twitter, it’s time for me to overanalize gbf too LET’S GO

i think this is my  first analysis post about  gbf here so let’s   begin with the sauce of the materials i’m about to bring in, no we're not gonna talk aobut the astrals the angels,, canaan and the war this is not about them this is only about world reset and the otherworld

Robomi Epic Clash 6-1

Right behind you 3-2

MSQ 129-3 

Old Bond 1-3

MSQ 165-2

Heart of the Sun 4-3

let’s begin by posting what i already put on twitter  before the last MSQ update

From here we can understand that the oldest point where civilization is mentioned in the granblue lore is 70k years ago which is A LOT, the world was described in a way that seemed very verdant yet technologically advanced ( atomic fusion is mentioned in the event as something known ) enough to overcome war, famine, sickness, everything seemed perfect until the population started to rapidly increase natural resources started depleting, animals dying, wars and disasters bursting up and that would generate negative world matter (it plays on the weight of the soul theory but i'm not gonna dwell into that) giving birth to the Wardant or world anti matter, the world got pretty much destroyed by chaos, abominations rampaged bla bla we'll call it the first cataclism or the end of the first world if you may

next we have what i'd like to call, the exodus, in right behind you we get to know that moon sliver's ruins predate the creation myth and they are from before the sky realm existed so we know that the old world was still around 20k years ago but this is still pretty distant from the story told in robomi as they are 50k years apart which is starting to make me think a new civilization emerged after the original world was "cleansed back to equilibrium" by world antimatter the cause of this world's demise is....we'll get to that later but this quite obviously marks the exodus from the old earth to the moon starting the moondweller civilization who survived for thousands of years while the world met it's end once again

In chapter 129-3 of the msq we get to know more of the creation myth(pretty much the stuff we knew from entemeanki going more into the specific reason of the creation of the sky and star vessels aka vyrn and lyria but it's not about them now) and we see an otherworlder commander known as the Envoy referring the otherworlders as the precursors, as we know otherworlders have a strong connection with death and back then was theorized that it meant that the precursors were the people who died during the destruction of the previous world, thing that is now confirmed to be canon

In old bond the six dragons pretty much just confirm that the current world is imperfect and not what it was supposed to be in the past and we know that the world's ruination is bahamut's fault, he's not called the god of destruction for nothing after all, the current world results inperfect, incomplete... the Omnipotent itself, the first god, is brought in as it's possible the world was first created by the Omnipotent, bahamut destroyed it but pretty much failed to put back the pieces to recreate the spherical earth we all know(and live on)

some extra facts like that there's some locations that were known to exist in the old world like hawaii (mentioned roughly in the alohas event) and like moon sliver or robomi herself ,some ancient remnants of the old world are still well preserved

In HSM we learn that the otherworlders hold a heavy grudge on moondwellers but it's not explored in detail, the common theory was that they felt betrayed and abandoned while they got left out when the exodus happened and were hence left to die on their own devices...that was considered rather far fetched back then but....maybe it's exactly what happened

-------------------------MSQ SPOILERS AHEAD-----------------------

in chapter 165 of the main story quest we get what's maybe the clearest view of the effective world destruction

these informations tho must be taken with a pinch ! It's important to understand that we are currently in a branched timeline and otherworlders travel between dimensions/timelines so the destruction we witnessed in that chapter might or might not be the one that the mc's world has experienced (there are currently 3major timelines that i'm aware of, the one of the side quests and events, the prime timeline that got corrupted and our current timeline) from "...and you" we know that different timelines can be similar or significally different to the point that the world's wedges could be entirely different

in the second sub chapter we are spectators of the memories of one of the harpy looking otherworlders, this world apparently had a different set of races than the one we are used to, this could be because it's from a different branch of the timeline or cause before the current iteration of the world there were different dominant species roaming the globe, we get to see that it's a rather rural and pacific world, no airships, no planes... it might remind of the initial state of the world 70k years ago minus the technology unless it's something uncomon in small villages, monsters also only recently seemed to be appearing as they are referred as

also the description of the species reminds a lot of the otherworlder types

it's noted that the inhabitants of this world live modest and peaceful lives but their world still reaches the point of destruction and rapidly turns into what we know as the crimson horizon, now here it gets interesting this passage might actually be a reference to the exodus

talking with a couple friends two theories emerged about that

1) the silver city in the night sky is indeed this world's equivalent of the moon

2) the tree in this picture is different from the one we saw could it be the silver city? or it is the source of the otherworld miasma?

unlike what happened to the purple knight's world here there's no invasion, the crimson horizon seems victim to almost a sort of micelium that corrupted the land and it's inhabitants, the precursors, turning them into what we now know as otherworlders... after thousands of years bahamut came and destroyed the earth in an attempt to purge it from the corrosion while the otherworlders were hoping for salvation

and the rest is history.....

Is this what actually happened?

Are the precursors/ otherworlders just victims of a world ending disease? And if so what was the cause?

Is this what happened in a different timeline/world?

Is this a slight retcon?

it's gonna be in theory realm until the next time this gets addressed but the dynamic is clearly there as it's the cycle of rebirth and destruction of the sky realm (again and again)

#gbf #granblue fantasy #long post #THE LORE #world reset #analysis

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 6: Surf

Fandom: Carmen Sandiego

Rating: G

Summary: In my Day 5 entry I mentioned Gray teaching Carmen/Black Sheep how to body surf. Basically, this is that.

+++

“Okay, here comes a good one!”

Gray grinned down at Black Sheep as he looked over his shoulder. “You ready?”

“Oh yeah!” Black Sheep returned his grin with her own do-or-die one, digging her toes into the sand so she didn’t start bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet (conducive to absolutely nothing except looking like a kid, which she officially wasn’t since enrolling a couple months ago).

“Alright,” Gray turned back around to face the beach, leaning forward like a runner about to start a race. Black Sheep copied his stance. “Remember what we’ve practiced?”

“Yup!” She faced the beach, steel in her eyes as she mentally ran down the list of steps Gray and her had been practicing for the last couple hours. Arms out in front, body rigid, feet pointed, head down. “Ready.”

“Good, cause here it comes…”

The current around Black Sheep's waist started to pick up, the water rushing faster as the building roar of a wave prowled up behind her like a wild thing readying to pounce.

“GO!”

At Gray’s starting whistle of a shout, Black Sheep pushed off the sandy floor. She snapped her body stiff, putting all Cleo’s lessons on posture and poise to use as her spine went ramrod and her feet followed suit, toes in those ever-perfect points a lady was supposed to have mastered. Carefully, she maneuvered one arm behind like some Superman characters she was apparently supposed to know about (like heck she was going to ask and look ignorant), using it to steer, just like Gray had shown her back on the sand and in the shallower, calmer, tamer waves closer to shore.

The beast of a wave surged around her, foam ruffling through her hair, and a thrill coursed through her veins as she felt its power swell beneath her, rising, arcing, cresting-

If it weren’t for the foam rushing around Black Sheep's face, she’d be laughing her triumph out for all the Island to hear.

Because the wave was no longer a wild beast rushing behind, seeking to subdue the meek sheep that was its prey; the tide had turned and now she was its master, riding it like it was a docile thing whose sole existence was to heed her command. A precursor of sort of things to come, for this, she just knew, was what the world would become once she graduated and stepped with head high into the glorious, adventurous, unmatched life of a professional thief, herself the undisputed exemplar of that elite breed.

“Right on, Black Sheep!” Gray’s voice came from somewhere next to her, and she could just make out, under the roaring wave, the cheers of Antonio and Jean-Paul from the shore, evidentially having taken pause in the former burying the latter to celebrate her victory over nature. She grinned into the foam, on top of the world.

But the wave was still The Wave, and even the most docile, tractable mount may buck its rider. Gaining speed as it rushed towards the beach, the water tugged, heedless of her Superman arms on its reins, jerking her sharply to the right.

“Pull back, Black Sheep!" Gray shouted, a note of panic in his voice. "Pull back!”

She thrust her shoulder back, trying to break out behind the wave and free herself from its headlong charge towards land, but, well, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that part yet. She was a prisoner of The Wave, helpless to break away to save herself, so when it, in the throes of a vicious rampage, plunged towards the sand-

“WOAH!”

"AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHH!!!”

*CRASH!*

-it left behind a scene that set the grains of sand laughing riotously as it, with feigned innocence, retreated: one dripping and disheveled Black Sheep, lying dazedly atop one newly-soaked Sheena, face rapidly turning red from something other than the sun.

“You okay, Black Sheep?” Gray asked, jogging out of the water, eyes concerned but with the beginnings of a grin waiting at the corners of his lips.

“HER?!?” Sheena fumed, extricating herself from the thumbs-upping tangle of immature. “She nearly cracked my ribs!!!” (ooh, that little punk was probably conspiring to get her benched until after exams, that’s probably what).

“Well, I mean,” Gray shrugged helplessly, the grin wending itself across its face, having been given license by way of Black Sheep’s own laughing one. “I *did* warn you that sunbathing was dangerous.” (never mind he was thinking of sunburns rather than flying sheep, but, well, danger was danger, right?)

“OOH!”  With that, the picture of indignance that was Sheena, proving that excess sun was not necessary in the slightest to turn her red as Hell, snatched up her useless towel and stomped back up the beach towards the tree line, kicking an irate sand spray towards the helplessly guffawing Antonio and Jean-Paul, both of whom were unaffected by the cutting remark that joined it.

“Crikey!” Gray gasped out presently, straightening up from where he’d been doubled over at Sheena’s exit. “That was some wipe out! Got Sheena awfully steamed.”

“Eh,” Black Sheep waved a dismissive hand in Sheena’s direction, sultry air simmering hotter in her wake, and cocked a grin. “That close to the water? She was asking for it.” (and she was, so she was blameless here).

“Not bad surfing either.” Gray winked, holding up a hand for a hive-five Black Sheep eagerly granted. “Want to go again?”

Seriously?

Black Sheep tossed him a smirk over her shoulder, a shove in his ribs for the stupidly obvious question, and sprinted towards the breakers, laughing as he raced to catch up to her. As if he had to ask. Because body surfing that wave, she’d felt on top of the world, and she couldn’t wait to feel that again!

****************🌊****************

Light burned through Carmen’s eyelids, causing her to stir and wake with a groan. The worn springs of the motel bed creaked their objections to early risers, and she looked dully around the room, the sun-drenched beach melting into the faded wallpaper and a tired-looking wardrobe and the drone of the air conditioner swallowing the echos of the pounding surf, her laughter as she rode the wave, and Gray’s beside her.

Only the salt spray on her cheeks remained.

#carmen sandiego fanfiction #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego #writersmonth #writersmonth2023 #in which i write #my writing #cs fanfics #cs fics

[waterlilyrose]

Do you think that Anthony went ahead with the wedding just cuz Kate asked for it? I think that's bullshit... by then Anthony must've realized that he felt greatly for her (even if he denied it to be love). Surely he would not go through a wedding with the sister of the woman he had great affection for? Even if she asked him to. Sorry I was just watching reruns for season 2 and what with my recent bitterness towards Anthony (even tho I love him! Can't help it) I don't trust him to be sincere. And don't get me started on the thorn scene-

See here's my thought on this: I'd say Kate's plea was the final nail in the coffin for his plans to back out. He'd clearly been having doubts throughout episode 5 and maybe the revelation of Edwina having a dowry only if she married a nobleman might have seemed the perfect excuse. But let's be real here - Anthony wiping the floor with the Sheffields may have been brilliant to watch but it also completely destroyed Kate's plans that she had worked so hard for. If Anthony backed out of the wedding now, I highly doubt the Sheffields would have given Edwina a second chance and I doubt even more so that Mary or Edwina would have accepted any help from them anyway (though where exactly they imagined the money was coming from is another bone of contention for me). So if he'd called it off, Edwina would have a sullied reputation AND no dowry.

Something that Anthony is big on is acting honourably (even if the phrase 'I am a gentleman' has almost become a precursor to ungentlemanly behaviour) so it may have been what he was grappling with. Also the realisation that he'd acted like a complete cad probably didn't sit well with his inner narrative either.

So when Kate begged him not to end the engagement, I didn't see a face overcome with love (though he clearly loved her): I see someone thinking 'oh man - I've fucked up and now I'm going to have to see it through.'

I totally get your anger at Anthony by the way. The more I watch Season 2 lately, the more angry I get about his actions. Edwina is cast as the antagonist by many but what did she do really? Became infatuated with the idea of a person? Show me someone who hasn't! Was she oblivious bordering on stupid for not realising sooner? Yep. But if many of us didn't love Kanthony so much (and god I do love them) we would probably not be so forgiving.

Just my two cents.

#waterlilyrose #kanthony

[rad-rat-with-a-tophat]

I'M CRAVING SOME FRESHMAN RICH PINING OVER JAKE, DO YOU THINK YOU COULD FEED MY BRAIN?

OH FUCK YEAH BROSKI

i can do that.

It began with a pack of bright red little sticky notes and a bad idea.

Rich had gotten the sticky notes by swiping them off his 70 year old English teacher, Mrs Barrison. It's not like she would've minded. Every single one of Rich's English teachers loved him, Mrs Barrison included.

He got the bad idea from a song he'd been listening to recently.

"Leaving little sticky notes in your locker

hoping you'll come and find them

knowing I'll never tell ya'

how you throw me off my rocker,"

It wasn't Rich's usual style of angst and edginess but when you're a 14 year old boy with an unattainable crush you're not going to be listening to My Chemical Romance you're going to be listening to a soft indie band while daydreaming about talking to your crush.

Rich's said unattainable crush was none other than Jake Dillinger, a fellow Freshman and the most popular lowerclassman in Middleborough High.

Not only was he at the top of the food chain while Rich was at the bottom, Jake was straight. Which meant that Rich had a zero percent chance. Not even zero, it was closer to a negative fifty percent chance. Not only was Jake straight (and also the most perfect guy in the universe due to him being funny, kind, charismatic, etc) but Rich was the least datable kid in the school. Minus those two boys who everyone was sure were dating each other but that's not the point. The point was, Rich was a small, english-nerd, dnd player, and overall loser who had a crush on the embodiment of Apollo.

And if Jake was Apollo, than Rich was Icarus and he was about to drown.

The moment when the wax began to melt on Rich's wings that were made by hope and naivety was when he slipped the first red sticky note into Jake's locker.

I love your new pin

If anyone noticed the blushing boy slipping a piece of paper into a locker than no one asked.

And if anyone noticed that when a certain Jake Dillinger folded up a tiny red sticky note and put it into his pocket then no one asked.

That was just the first of many many sticky notes that Rich would send Jake.

Your hair is really cute today.

Did you know that there's a species of lizard where there's no males because they all died because of cancer and the way this all-female species of lizards reproduces is by cloning themselves? Because now you do. PS you should wear green more often

Ya like jazz?

Rich would slip a sticky note into Jake's locker at the end of every school day for two months before he got a reply on a tiny red sticky note, the exact same shade as the one's he used.

I don't really listen to music so I don't know any jazz. any recommendations? I feel like you have great music taste.

Oh my god! Rich thought to himself, tiny butterflies in his stomach washing out the usual shame he felt about his crush on Jake. He replied! And oh my god he's so nice! And he said he thinks I have good music taste!

Rich was feeling the sun in his hair and stopped feeling the sense of dread at the ocean below him.

Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone. They're so cool.

Thus began a chain of notes dropped into lockers and tiny red stick notes stuck onto lockers.

It was the last week before school was let out. Rich took a breath and his shaky hand dropped the final red sticky note.

hi, good job with surviving through your first year of high school. this is my final note. i have two things to say as my last words to you. the first thing is to listen to the song sticky notes in your locker you'll see why. the second thing is that you shouldn't look for me. you'll just be dissapointed. bye <3

And if anyone noticed the tears from the boy dropping a tiny red sticky note into a locker as he finally hit the ocean below then no one asked.

And if anyone noticed the most popular freshman in the school cover his mouth in a gasp that was the precursor to many tears as his hands gripped a tiny red sticky note then no one asked.

"Handing you sticky notes at your locker

knowing you'll go and read them

loving you out and open

not just in the corners of your locker,"

Jake listened to the song over and over, muffling silent tears over the sun he never got to reach for. The sun he only ever saw from deep beneath the waves.

#uh so yeah #btw they jake ends up figuring out it was rich in the middle of sophomore year #he doesn't tell rich he knows until rich tells him after they start dating #also the song doesn't exist #i wrote all the lyrics #richjake #bmc musical #bmc #be more chill #my writing #rich goranski #jake dillinger #fanfic

[this-daydream-is-dangerous-13]

Harry's voice breaking at around 3:52 while trying to dodge explaining 'If I Could Fly' is so heartbreaking 💔😭

Perfect being a love song and explaining it the way he did doesn't give me the impression that he wanted a forever with Blondie and marry her... If Taylor wanted something solid and to be sure that the person who she is with wasn't gonna bail on her someday out of nowhere then hearing lyrics like these might have been one of the reasons why she chose YB over Harry in late 2016:

I might never be the hands you put your heart in

Or the arms that hold you any time you want them

But that don't mean that we can't live here in the moment

'Cause I can be the one you love from time to time

https://youtu.be/fsv6KmlY9F8?feature=shared

Anon, ouch! That video—he was so exhausted; it felt like a precursor to the “this movie feels like a real movie” interview in Venice last fall—was packed with him trying to dodge answers about vulnerable songs. Awww, buddy.

A couple things about Perfect:

- It’s a co-write. There are sections that are (so very obviously) written by H, while others are written by LT. Some of the phrasing around being a flaky partner is wording that H never really uses when he writes.

- that said, H does have a collab with Jack on Alfie’s Song and it’s parenthetical title is “Not So Typical Love Song”. Kind of like how he describes this.

- this is the era he is writing Two Ghosts (which he holds for HS1), and perhaps also starts work on Hunger. He is really not certain what she wants, or how to move forward. In the past, he had agreed to be one of her many options (as described in JALBOYH). This songs feels like he thinks she wants that again. Like he’s throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks?

So, maybe Blondie was put off by this? But look at some of his solo write lyrics on this very same album:

Does that seem like someone wanting to bail? Or this:

And the very first song he writes for his solo album (a story he retold this June on Wembley n4)? Is this:

He is convinced that they belong together, in all situations.

And what he is offering at 22 to a more mature almost 27 year-old whose Mom/closest confidante had cancer, is a non-specific future. One filled with love, certainly, but full of potential downside and risk, media scrutiny and proximity to people she wanted to avoid.

As he is launching his solo career, his main supports beyond notoriously silent Mitch Rowland are the Jeff Azoff connections. Many of whom were tied to the K-J family who’d made her life hell. Jeff’s Mom’s bestie is Kris; his sister’s is KKW; his girlfriend’s bestie is Kendall. Way, way, way too close.

And YB - high above the whole scene. Seemingly well-adjusted with a low key vibe, on the cusp of becoming the next big thing as an actor. Much less risk. A breath of fresh air at the time.

Except…we all know how the whole thing plays out: weak, mediocre man ultimately becomes resentful of Blondie and tries to make her small. Man, I hate that guy!

Anyway - thank you for the ask!

[imaginedreamwrite]

Coach!Ari takes Ice Princess on a little getaway to the Berkshires in Massachusetts. They stay in a borrowed lake house that looks like a large cabin. The trees are coated with snow or ice. The lake is frozen over.

He felt you moving before he was fully conscious. He had felt the bed shifting and the draw of chilled morning air that still lingered in the room despite the heat that poured from the wood burning furnace.

Ari had no sooner felt the chill than he had felt warmth after the blanket was draped back over his body. He had returned to a place of slumber and sleep, drawn back to the warmth and comfort of his bed. As Ari had felt himself wavering back into sleep, he was fully aware of your mood that flourished through your bond.

You were giddy, you were excited.

It had been only been a day since you arrived to the Berkshires but the winter scenes had been nothing less than breathtaking. Ari had borrowed the lake house from a good friend of his for the getaway before he started coaching with The Bruins, and had been a precursor to your first ultrasound.

The lake was frozen and snow covered, just as the trees were dusted with light and fluffy snow. It was a perfected sight of the winter scene that seemed to be pulled directly from the front of a painted canvas, the illustrious shine of the sun as it glinted against the sparkling snow.

It was where Ari had found you, outside on the ice skating gently against the surface. He had found you on a patch of the lake that you’d cleared off, not bothering to do any spins or twirls rather you’d just enjoyed being out.

“I brought you hot chocolate, baby.” Ari called from the shoreline, holding two insulated tumblers in his hands, wearing his new jacket from the team and a matching toque.

“Thank you, Ari.” Despite being pregnant, even as early as you were, you had moved gracefully, skating toward him with as much as ease as beauty. “For the hot chocolate and bringing me here.”

You met him at the edge, stopping by to greet him with a kiss as he handed you a tumbler of hot chocolate. Ari had helped you off the ice, keeping you steady until you were able to walk and sit on the bench near the dock.

He had taken a place next to you, sitting close to you as you sipped on the homemade hot chocolate and marshmallow mix. He kissed the top of your head and mumbled softly, whispering sweet nothings to you as you leaned full into him.

“Thank you for coming with me,” He thanked you for following him to Boston, for taking the chance with him, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“You and me, Ari.” You chirped softly, seeking your alphas warmth. “We’re in this together.”

[brandwhorestarscream]

A question that came to me just now (but you don't need to answer it right away)

Considering what has been established about TFE Jettwins, how did Megatron realize how wrong his more intimate "relationship" with Star was?Consistently, the others don't know and they (especially Dot) wouldn't allow him near the younger Terrans/Maltos if they knew.

I don't know when exactly he got an eye opener, but I'm assuming it was after stepping down as the leader of the decepticons. It's not like it was something that just happened over night, people don't usually reach that point of violation and abuse with no precursor or build up. At one point I do think he and Starscream were, at the very least, mutually attracted to each other and intimate to blow off steam, if nothing else. It's definitely more insidious if it started off as a genuine romantic relationship and twisted til it was unrecognizable over time, but that's not the point right now

As we've seen in canon, he still has incredibly violent tendencies toward Starscream. He didn't try to speak to him or offer him gentle punishment as we've seen him do with previous decepticons--he immediately assumed the very worst, and fell back on old habits alarmingly quickly. He had no problem beating the shit out of Starscream back then and that clearly hasn't changed. He's extremely comfortable putting his hands on him, but it wasn't always that way. Someone doesn't rise to power being violent and cruel: they rise to power, in his case, by putting charisma and good will behind a genuinely good cause. It started sweet but turned sour over time, and by the time it got really bad Starscream was no longer able to walk away.

I think Megatron's treatment of him slowly got increasingly worse, from a combination of extreme stress from the war, internalized hate, and a desire to always be 100% in control due to past trauma. Mix it all together with another very extreme personality and you get a noxious concoction that's streamlined for disaster. Starscream was the perfect target: someone always close by, and even better, someone he had a reason to brutalize. Attempted assassination, even just once, would get a lot of people killed. I firmly believe Megatron would kill anyone else that tried half the shit Starscream did. No one in the decepticons were willing to stick their necks out and disagree with his methods of punishment. It was considered a mercy to let Starscream live at all

On the more sexual side, he was already used to Starscream's body and, at some level, felt entitled to it. It's nasty and horrible and he was so deep into the role as the merciless and cruel decepticon overlord it became frighteningly permissible in his mind. It's a lot more common, a lot easier than you might think, to get so deep in your own head when you're under such extreme stress for so long to crack and start considering things you never would before, excessive violence, lethal force, even such heinous assault. It's a hideous and wicked thing, a pervasive flaw of the psyche. Only after being entirely removed from that role and managing to scrub himself of the conditioning was he able to look back and realize he definitely went too far.

And yet, he was so quick to fall back on old habits. It was on sight when he saw Starscream. He would've gone much further and snagged him even worse if Hashtag hadn't thrown herself between them. I think that's what finally, truly got through to him on the deepest level: to have a child who previously only looked at him in adoration to look up at him with only disgust and fear. He's seen that same expression before, on Starscream, but now on someone who may as well be his granddaughter. It's jarring, and really, really makes him think. That's how he realized just how wrong he was with Starscream, to answer your question: that pivotal moment with Hashtag.

#megatron #hashtag #god. this was tough to chew through. ive been thinking about it for awhile #hes such a deeply flawed and complex character and its so fun to dig into this stuff #tfe jettwins

[theheightofdishonor]

oooh now that i'm done with my brief little foray into hyeri's filmography, ranking time.

Now, precursor. I definitely didn't watch all her dramas. I aimed for ones where she had a decent amount of screentime in and wasn't too long. I also dropped anything that I didn't find interesting within the first five episodes. So this ranking is just out of the ones that I finished.

First up is obviously May I Help You. I can confidently say this is still my favourite kdrama romance of all time. It might not be perfect but it comes pretty darn close and a lot of it is due to Hyeri. Her crying in this show will break your heart.

Reply 1988. This show, like i just said took me a couple tries to get into but it was really goddamn good. I cried multiple times.

Moonshine. Started out very strong but the more the romance built, the more it felt flat which was disappointing because I really liked their dynamic at first. I loved her character though.

Entertainer. A more nuanced look at people than I expected it to be and the found family was adorable to all hell but the end fell flat. There's nothing more I hate that last minute romances and last minute resolutions.

Seonam Girls High School Investigators. Pretty run of the mill but Hyeri's range??? She plays this caricature of a character so damn well. Girl never breaks for a second. And i'm a sucker for a cute friend group.

Miss Lee is p good, definitely better than Seonam but it ranks low because it ended up being not that memorable in the long run though I liked it well enough while I was watching. I liked that she didn't end up in a romance even though they hinted at it and the focus on her relationship with the other employees.

My roommate is a Gumiho. Listen, Hyeri;s performance is so flawless that I kept forgetting it was her. But this show was frustrating on so many levels. First of all, the actors were so damn good that I just couldn't get into the romance. Ki Yong is far too convincing as an ancient immortal and she's too convincing as a college student for their romance to work because the age gap felt insurmountable, as if he'd be more convincing as her grandfather in a younger body than her love interest. I was also rooting hard for the second lead. He started off as a jerk but by the end, their chemistry was better and I was constantly frustrated by the show's refusal to let Hyeri consider him as a viable option. Plus, I watched Goblin not long before this and the whole ancient being x naive young human's just a trope that I can only handle in small doses.

#lee hyeri #kdrama posting #may i help you #100 won butler #my roommate is a gumiho #miss lee #entertainer #seonam girls high school investigators #moonshine #reply 1988

[bailaconox]

A Shoulder To Cry On REVIEW (9/10)

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

*idk dude Viki won't let me update my review but i need to post this somewhere 😭💖

First off, I have to say JAEHAN AND YECHAN I AM SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU! Your hard work and the time and care you put into these roles really shows, and I am so happy we all finally get to enjoy you both in this drama! ❤

Second, I'll get my critiques out of the way… I binged the webcomic right after the casting news came out, so I went into this show with a very heavy bias. And while the show stayed very true to the plot, I had to knock off a star in my rating because the script just felt too… simple? The comic was over-exaggerated and exciting and oh it was SO FUNNY!!! But for some reason the drama toned all of that down… Calling the show "boring" would be wrong, but it is much less witty and funny than the comic and that disappointed me. Oh, we could have nixed the forced love triangle/jealousy subplot with Soyoung, because THAT was boring...

ASIDE: Perhaps it was just me, but in the first couple episodes I couldn't stop hearing the cicada noises playing in the background of almost every scene and it started driving me crazy… At least, that was until I reread the comic and saw Chapters 16 and 17 both mention hearing the cicadas chirping. Intentional or not, I admire the subtle nod to the comic. And I really appreciate the writers, directors, and producers of the show for honouring the source material. I was shocked in my reread to see just how many scenes were almost exact recreations of moments in the comic!

Finally…. where do I even begin with my praise for the show!

The OST - Oh I was so happy when news came out that several members of OMEGA X would participate on all 3 songs!

"Come Together" (sung by Jaehan who also participated in writing lyrics) is so catchy and fun and captures that energy from the story so well, and I will never get tired of listening to it. (Also with these lyrics, it definitely sounds like a sweet and happy song for OMEGA X and FOR X~ "You're everything I could ever wish for, love / I'm all for you, I will always be with you").

"너를 다시 (You, Again)" (sung by Taedong, Xen, and Jaehan, lyrics written in part by Jaehan again) perfectly captures all the bittersweet moments in this story. Three beautiful voices and tragic lyrics ("Times are gone / But I'm still waiting for you after all this time")… This is a perfect song to cry your heart out to.

"쉬어가도 돼 (Comfort)" (sung by Hwichan and Jaehan, written/arranged/composed by the INCREDIBLY TALENTED producing team WEHOT (Hangyeom, Jaejun, Juntae, JAYBLE)) is another ballad, but instead of heartbreak and tears, this song is the one who will wrap you up in a hug and comfort you after you've finished crying to "You, Again". ("It's okay to fall / Once in our story / Come here and take my shoulder and take rest").

Overall, this OST perfectly encapsulates the emotions you feel watching or reading A Shoulder To Cry On and I couldn't be happier with it ❤❤❤❤❤

PRAISE TIME: I thought adding the Heimlich maneuver element as the precursor to Dayeol's "I lo- like you" confession was very clever. The storage locker scene was SO well done and having Taehyun whisper those lines to Dayeol... CHILLS! I STILL HAVE CHILLS THINKING ABOUT IT! ❤ All the scenes where Dayeol is taking care of Taehyun after the hospital, giving him the T-Shirt, moving his hair to check on the bandage, taking him to his favourite spot, "It's not your fault", and even telling a bleeding Taehyun to shut up.... The tenderness in all of it, and finally seeing Dayeol open up to Taehyun, oh it's so beautiful ❤❤❤❤❤

MORE THOUGHTS: I think the way they used Wonkyung's character as an antagonist was interesting, but they didn't ever really explore why he ended up being so angry about Taehyun and Dayeol getting closer. I thought that if anything we would see Wonkyung as the jealous one, harboring a secret crush on Taehyun, but that was never confirmed. In the scene where he threatens Dayeol, it almost felt like they were trying to imply he was mad because he was homophobic..?? I don't know, but they definitely should have used him more.

IN CONCLUSION, as a FOR X and as a lover of the ASTCO webcomic, I am so incredibly satisfied with how this drama turned out. After wondering for months and months and months about the leader and maknae of OMEGA X playing lovers, I can now see why all the drama's production staff praised them and their work ethics. They were AMAZING and I cannot stress enough how proud of them I am!!!!!! I could go on forever about this show, breaking down each and every scene and giving an essay's length response for all of them, but I'll save that for somewhere else. To anyone who read this far, thank you. If you are still deciding whether or not to watch the drama, I hope I convinced you to give it a chance ❤ Maybe you won't like it, or maybe you'll see what I see in Dayeol and Taehyun's story. Pain, anxiety, desperation, anger, fear, and above all... comfort.

#personal #a shoulder to cry on #VIKI PLEASE I WANT TO POST MY THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS #also minimal spoilers i just mention a couple scenes but no discussion of major plot points i think

[bitchfitch]

There comes a day at the very end of the story where the gods of love are brushing eachothers hair. They're called twins now, because they really are identical in every way. So long as you don't look close enough to see the scars on the elders hands from the years he tended gardens full of thorns, or notice the youngers are decorated in intricate tattoos barely darker than his skin, made to look like the scars by priests and artists who couldn't conceive of their deceased diety having dirtied his hands in the gardens of their home.

There were over a hundred years between their births. A god of all the warmest parts of love, and one of the most souring. Still they were called twins by those who prayed to them at shrines and in the quite moments before mistakes were made. Their shared husband called them his sun and moon.

The elder brushed the youngers hair, humming and combing his fingers through the loose curls.

"I'd say you're lucky to have such beautiful long hair, but I suppose it's your will being stronger than mine that gets you to wear it like this," his eyes were light and bright, his smile soft and idle.

"I hate it. The tangles drive me insane and it seems like I'm always having to do something with it," the younger groused, avoiding looking at his reflection in the elder's mirror. They had the same face, the same hair and body and skin, but the elder always looked More than him. More beautiful, more kind, more desirable. More everything positive you could say about a man, while the younger's only More was 'plain'.

"Then why don't you cut it? I can do it for you if you need help getting the back."

"I can't."

"Why not? If you don't mind me asking."

"Because the priests-" he stops himself short. He wore his hair long because the priests said it made him look more like the elder, who's hair was barely past his shoulders, not so long that it got tugged when he accidentally sat on it. "Because the priests said I had to."

The elder chuckled, "Well, it's a good thing you aren't at their mercy anymore then. How short do you want to go? I can go get our darling's razor if you like."

the younger looked at him in the mirror. They were supposedly precursor and reincarnation, but rarely had he ever felt like anything more than a poor imitation. A piece of wax fruit, hollow and too perfect to be beautiful, beside something real and true.

"Cut it like you would never wear it." he said after a long moment.

"Hmm," he thought on it, examining both of their faces in the mirror like there was something to be seen before nodding and chirping "Be right back," and trotting off to go find the scissors.

The younger sighed and pulled his hair over one shoulder, carding his fingers through it as if he were saying goodbye. Years and years had he hated his hair. No one had touched him when he was being raised to replace a dead man in a monster's bed, unless it was to pull a brush through the matts or wrestle with him to hold still long enough for them to pull it into some overly tight and intricate style no one would be allowed close enough to actually see.

But the dead man was back, and the monsters bed warmer than he had ever wanted it to be, and now he had a choice he had never had before.

The elder returned. A pair of scissors and some ribbon in one hand and a blanket they never used in the other.

"Last chance to back out," he offered after the preparation. The blanket around the younger's shoulders and a ribbon tied tight around the mass of hair.

"Do it," the younger nodded.

When all was done, and the younger looked at himself in the mirror once more his hair was barely long enough for him to run his fingers through. shaggy and curled tightly without the weight to make them hang limp. His head felt too light and the air on the back of his neck too cold.

The younger looked at them both, there in the reflection, and for once he didn't look like a failed copy of the elder.

He looked like himself.

#hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #something something #the power of a hair cut.

[despair-to-future-arcs]

(To the present day group) Class 79 are a colorful bunch.

Wow... so that's Class 79?

Yeah I think I remember that pink hair chick, Kizuna come up to flirt with me... I scream and told her off...

Wouldn't be surprise by that honestly...

But why bring up Class 79?

Because... they were apart of a killing game of there own, the Proto-Killing Game...

'Proto-Killing Game'? What is that...?

'Proto' well going with that term, it could mean original or primitive. "prototherian" or first; anterior; relating to a precursor.

But since it's a game, then the term is 'prototype' which means a first, typical or preliminary model of something, especially a machine, from which other forms are developed or copied.

So meaning it was the first killing game?

It means this killing game was set by Junko Enoshima before the killing school life was set, it was to test the waters and wasn't shown to the public...

Class 79 when the tragedy started decided to fake their deaths and go into hiding to protect themselves...

However, unknown to them - they had 2 despairs that were working for Junko without their knowledge...

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NAGI: Akane Taira was the Ultimate Maid, she was someone that while working for Despair but could turn to hope so she wasn't on Junko's side completely and only stay due to one person that she was loyal to... but the one she influence was her master...

NAGI: Utsuro... many know him as a myth but many people believe that if you meet him; you'll get divine luck from him but he deeply despises people and felt bored with everything but he met Junko and was able to feel influence by her and turn towards despair...

NAGI: Utsuro being influence by Junko to help with her cause which had decided to use his Divine Luck and take the place of the current Class 79 Ultimate Lucky Student - the real Yuki Maeda, who was kidnapped and his family was killed... we have no idea where he is right now.

NAGI: All I know is that Junko had watch that killing game, likely to test waters for her killing game and take notes... I'm not sure what she took notes of but whatever it was she saw, she wanted to make sure her killing game was perfected before being broadcasted to the world.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

So Class 79 had a killing game, when was it held...?

Well the thing was from what was say; they weren't discover to be alive until a month or so later after Hope's Peak had fallen and it was only 3 that survive while the others actually died and were on a helicopter that came from an old building that was related to the Kisaragi Foundation.

All I know is that Junko set up that killing game likely as a proto-type for the killing school life.

And anything to do with Junko is instantly bad news...

#dr #danganronpa #dtfa #despair to future arc #ds:rw #despair side: re write #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #dra #danganronpa another #kazuichi souda #hajime hinata #akane taira #nagi nanami #sonia nevermind #utsuro #akane owari #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #anonymous #ds ep 3