#and literally NOBODY could convince me that either of those boys was straight

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT 24

✨GT Stands for Giru-eating Trout✨

This is the one where Pan tries to pet a baby space-deer, and it sticks its nose up her shirt for no good reason.  The deer kind of pokes her in the butt a little later, but that’s easier to write off.  What the hell was this for?  Like, how did this happen?  They’re storyboarding this episode at Toei headquarters or whatever, and one guy is like “Say, I have an idea... Now hear me out...”

Let’s back up.  Last time, the GT crew found a fourth Dragon Ball on a derelict ship.  They also found a single survivor, and took him to a hospital on Planet Pital.  Oh, they named the planet after the last five letters in hospital.   I just got that.  Everybody just sort of chills out after they hear the boy will recover, but then there’s an explosion in his room, and Goku charges in to rescue the kid and a nurse who was in the room when it happened.

What caused the explosion?  Well, the boy is possessed by Baby, and this was all a scheme to get close to the GT gang.  But he used a little too much of his power at the end of the last episode, and he accidentally blew up some equipment in the room.  But since no one suspects anything, he figures he can still proceed with his plan. 

So what’s Baby’s plan this time? I mean, he’s had so many of them already, so it’s hard to keep them all straight.  Well, it seems like he’s abandoned all of his old plans, and now he just wants “Saiyan power”.  We’ve seen him enter people’s bodies and control them.  This boy is just the latest example.  Apparently this makes Baby stronger, and he seems to think parisitizing the bodies of Goku, Trunks, and Pan is the next step.

So what are the GT gang up to while all this is going on?  Jack shit, that’s what.  Goku’s hungry, but he refuses to eat in the hospital cafeteria because he’s afraid someone will poke him with a needle when he’s not looking.  According to Trunks, the hospital is the only place on the entire planet that even has a cafeteria.  Wait, did I misread that?  That can’t be right.

No, that’s exactly how Trunks puts it.  This is followed by a gag where Goku, Giru, and Trunks all go wading in a nearby stream to catch fish. Seriously?  Those are your choices?  If you’re hungry on Planet Pital, you either go to the hospital or you go fishing.  There’s no grocery stores?  No vending machines?  No agriculture?

Oh, also the fish are easy to catch, but they taste terrible.  So it’s literally the hospital or starvation on this planet. 

Anyway, that’s why Pan is out here getting sexually harassed by a deer.  I guess she didn’t want to go fishing.  While she’s away from the others, Baby approaches her, hoping to make her his next victim.  When her back is turned, he reaches out and...

Wh-what?  What is wrong with this kid’s hand?  I took a screenshot of this because I could not believe what I was seeing.   He’s supposed to be reaching out to grab Pan, but the fingers are pointed in the wrong direction, like he’s bringing his hand in towards us.  But the thumb is pointed like... argh this is driving me nuts. 

Before Baby can make his move, the doctor finds him and tells him he should be resting, and he escorts him back to the hospital.  So Baby waits until they’re alone and possesses the doctor instead. 

Goku’s still worried about eating in the cafeteria, and I just noticed that his anxiety about needles kind of rhymes with the threat of this episode.  Baby is literally lurking around this place, sneaking up on unsuspecting victims and “snoick!” injecting them with nasty goop, i.e. himself.  So as dumb as Goku sounds right now, he’s like the guy nobody listens to in a horror movie. 

This is really weird, because normally GT episodes are so thin on plot and weak on continuity that I never would have expected scenes like this to actually tie into anything else. 

Luckily for Goku’s tummy, the doctor (actually Baby) assures Goku that no one will stick him with a needle, and this convinces Goku to try the cafeteria, and it turns out he loves it.  They’ve got shrimp curry in there and everything.  Also, the doctor (actually Baby) invites Trunks on a tour of the hospital, because he mentioned being so interested in the advanced technology here.  He never actually said that, as far as I’m aware, but whatever. 

So he takes Trunks to look at... some machine, and lets Trunks play with the buttons and dials.  Trunks is like “Oh, cool!  This is amazing!  And if I switch this then... yes, wow!  This is incredible!”  What is going on?

Then the doctor makes his move, and... strangles Trunks? What?  Every other time Baby’s done this bit, he just forces himself down the victim’s throat.  This time, he tells Trunks exactly how he survived their last encounter and infiltrated Pital using that sick boy they found. 

But Trunks has outsmarted Baby because Goku and Pan arrive to back him up.  Turns out they’ve been onto Baby since the start of this episode.  Remember when Baby blew up that hospital room?  Well he used his ki to do it, and Goku sensed it and recognized Baby’s unique energy immediately.  They couldn’t sense him while he was inside someone’s body, but all they had to do was play dumb and wait for Baby to make a move, like how Trunks did when he agreed to go on this “tour”.  As soon as Baby revealed himself, Pan and Goku could come a’runnin’. 

So it looks like now they finally have Baby dead to rights, and this time they know he can survive getting blown up with ki blasts, so they’ll do a more thorough job of it.  But first, Pan asks Baby about how he found the One-Star Dragon Ball that he used as bait in the previous episode.  Baby is... surprisingly accommodating about this.  He explains that Dr. Mu just happened to discover it one day, and he “digitized it” and stored it inside his own head, which is why the GT Crew never detected it before.  So basically I was right when I speculated that Dr. Mu just happened across a Dragon Ball the same way Bulma way back in the beginning.  We still don’t know how Mu learned what it was or that there were six more, or how to make them grant wishes, or how to track them down.  But honestly, I’m surprised Baby was willing to explain as much as he did.

Pan asks if Baby has any other Dragon Balls, and he says they only had the one.  He wants the whole set, but he knew he could just wait for the GT crew to gather the others.  Wait...

Okay, so he either wants the GT crew for their Saiyan power, or he wants them to locate all the Dragon Balls.  Right now they only have four, but he’s trying to ambush them in this hospital anyway. 

I mean, this will work out for him eventually, but you see what I’m saying, right?  This whole scheme in Episodes 23 and 24 is pretty clever, but shouldn’t he have held off until they found the other three Dragon Balls?  Or is he content to eliminate the GT crew today and finish tracking the Dragon Balls himself?  I mean, that sounds sensible, but it’s not what he’s saying he wanted to do.

On the other hand, maybe I should give this episode a little more credit.  The good guys looked clueless for most of this story, but now we see that they were just waiting for Baby to overplay his hand.  And Baby has a bigger agenda than he’s letting on, so maybe he’s just playing the part of a mustache twirling rival in the hunt for the Dragon Balls. 

So they fight, and Baby gets kicked around a lot until he pulls a Kid Buu and powers up.  I know I keep harping on this, but it is impossible to tell how strong anyone is in this show. If Baby could actually take on three Saiyans and win, then why is he bothering with all this sneaking around?  And if he’s not strong enough to take on three Saiyans, then what the hell is this?  And if he’s capable of big ki stunts like this, then why aren’t Goku and Trunks turning Super Saiyan to finish him off quickly?

Here’s a cool shot of Trunks getting blown away in the blast Baby is throwing off.

Trunks sustains a nasty cut on his arm...

And Baby liquefies and dives right into the wound.  Okay, so up to now, Baby’s had to enter people’s bodies more forcefully than this, because none of his victims had open cuts on their bodies.  Apparently it’s simpler for him when he can just go straight into their bloodstream.  Also, this shot implies that Goku and Pan are just standing around watching this happen.  Way to be, guys.  Way to be.

So now Baby has control of Trunks’ body, and while Pan and Goku argue over how to defeat Baby without hurting Trunks, Baby gets the drop on Goku and aims a ki blast at his face at pointblank range.  Baby thinks Goku can’t dodge, but consider: Even though GT Goku can’t teleport properly with his dumb kid body, he can teleport about six feet above his current position, as seen in Episode 4.  So he could use that in a fight, if only to buy a little breathing room.  He probably couldn’t get away with using it more than once before the opponent figures out his limitations, but it’s a thought.

But it doesn’t matter, because Trunks suddenly begins to resist Baby’s control, and he turns Super Saiyan, which overwhelms Baby in some way.  Apparently he didn’t know about this?  Even though Goku and Trunks used Super Saiyan to fight Luud and Rildo?  Did Baby not know about those battles?  What was the point of him controlling all those idiots if he didn’t stay up to date on their activities?

So this is a total shut out for the good guys, right?  Baby’s only chance was to control their bodies, but now he can’t even do that anymore, so this is it, right?  Wrong, Baby uses a bootleg Solar Flare trick and runs away while the gang are blinded.  Seriously, this is just Imperfect Cell all over again.  The difference is that Giru has a filter for his optical sensor, so he can follow Baby’s movements.  Except it doesn’t matter because no one actually follows Baby or tries to stop him.  Giru just watches him go and reports that he’s getting away. 

And Baby makes it all the way to a spaceport, where he possesses a woman and feeds on all the other passengers.  Things didn’t go as he hoped today, but he’s confident that he’ll win the next time, once he’s gotten stronger. 

And the good guys... don’t seem to care?  They can’t find Baby after he’s out of sight, because there’s no ki to sense and the trail has gone cold, but they also don’t bother to warn anyone on Pital about this alien parasite that controls people’s bodies.  Goku says some boilerplate crap about how they’ll defeat him by working together, and then they just get back on their ship and leave. 

This is really weak.  I don’t know what I expect them to do in this situation.  I mean, they kind of have to move on because they’re still in a hurry to find the rest of the Dragon Balls before the Earth explodes.   But they don’t even bring that up when they leave Pital.  You could do some interesting character work with that premise.  Goku and Pan don’t like leaving the Baby problem unresolved, but Trunks has to keep them focused on their mission. 

And that’s what bugs me about GT.  So much of this show is just stuff sort of happening.  Fights just sort of end, not because one side was stronger or more skillful, but because the writers wanted the fight to be over.  Baby doesn’t mind losing this skirmish, because he knows he can just try again whenever he’s ready, but that just underscores the fact that he never needed to pull this stunt in the first place.  He just did it because the writers wanted him to.  And then when it didn’t work, he just ran away and no one stopped him because the writers weren’t ready to kill him off yet.

✨ “Good” “Ideas”, Poorly Executed✨

So yeah, Baby is just a remix of Buu and Cell at this point.  He drains energy from his victims, leaving spaceships full of corpses.  Well, that ship from the last episode didn’t have any corpses, so I don’t know what the rule is with Baby.  Maybe he plans to eat these passengers later and the episode ended before he could finish. 

Cell, of course, always left the clothes behind, because it’s creepier and more awesome.  It’s the little details that the copycats never pick up on, which is why they’ll never surpass the original.

As for Buu, Baby basically stole his absorption technique, except that Baby enters his victims’ bodies instead of enveloping them the way Buu would do.  Also, Baby’s method of entering his victims is a lot like that trick Super Buu would do to blow people up from the inside. 

There’s some other tricks Baby has up his sleeve, but those are just stolen from other villains, so I’ll address those when the time comes.  Basically, this little shit is the crown jewel of Dragon Ball GT, perhaps the most memorable character introduced in the show, and he’s just a shallow retread of ideas we’ve seen before.

To be clear: I don’t object to the Dragon Ball franchise recycling old ideas, or borrowing ideas from old stories to make new ones.  The recent Dragon Ball Super movies have shamelessly brought back Broly, Gogeta, and the Red Ribbon Army, and they’re still excellent films.  GT is allowed to do the same.  My favorite Dragon Ball character is Cell, who is literally just a mashup of several other characters combined with a cicada.  When it comes to originality, the bar is actually pretty low for me. 

The point I’m trying to make here is that GT is a terrible show, and people will try to defend it by saying is had “some good ideas”.  But it doesn’t.  Baby is perhaps the best thing to come out of GT, and it’s not a “good idea”.  It’s a mish-mash of a bunch of other ideas we’ve seen before.  And that would still be serviceable, except the show is poorly written, glacially paced, and oftentimes just unappealing to look at.  Also, it gets really saccharine in places. 

Maybe a truly “good idea” could have overcome those flaws, but GT doesn’t have one of those.  What is has are a bunch of obsolete storytelling formulas and elements borrowed from more successful shows.   The only reason it lasted as long as it did was because it’s chock full of characters from the hit manga Dragon Ball.  If GT were a wholly original story without any connection to Dragon Ball, it would have died on the vine a lot sooner.

✨Positivity Page✨

Having said all that, it’s refreshing to see how much more focused the show has become now that it’s ditched all the other villains in favor of Baby.  It’s just one bad guy, operating alone, and he’s actually a genuine threat, instead of a dance trio or that stupid catfish man-child thing that could predict earthquakes. 

My guess is that Toei had to struggle to change the series when they decided to ditch the “Grand Tour” concept in favor of a more “Dragon Ball Z”-style plot structure.  Before, there was a clear sense of GT having these mini-arcs with a different villain in each one.  They didn’t have to be good villains because they weren’t going to be around long enough to matter.  Goku would beat them up in a few minutes and then they’d head out to the next planet. 

Maybe Baby was always going to be the secret mastermind at the end of the Dragon Ball hunt, but I get the sense that they already had plots for the Luud Cult and Giru’s homeworld, and quickly adapted them to set up Baby as the secret boss of both of those things.  Then, once Baby was introduced, they jettisoned all that other stuff and focused squarely on him.  Episodes 8 through 22 really felt like they were making it up as they went, and now that Baby is here, we’re not seeing that haphazard storytelling anymore.  Which tells me that they only used it in Episodes 8-22 because they had to, not because they wanted to. 

I’d like to say that GT has finally found its footing, and can now tell the story its creators set out to tell, except that isn’t actually true.  The story they wanted to tell was the Grand Tour, but then they realized it wouldn’t work, and everything after Episode 3 has been a hasty course correction.  With Baby, things have settled into a comfortable path forward, but this is just Toei doing the practical thing to keep the show on the air.  

✨Is this episode worse than “The Roaming Lake”?✨ 

Yes, it’s worse.  To give this episode credit, it spends a lot of its run time looking like every episode before it.  Characters just sort of tool around waiting for the next plot point to happen, and it gets pretty dull in places.  This is something GT 22 and “The Roaming Lake” have in common.  We spend a lot of time in this episode fretting about Goku’s dinner plans.

But it turns out it’s all a shocking SWERVE~!, and the GT crew was only pretending to while away an afternoon.  In fact, they were just waiting for Baby to ambush them so that they could spring their clever trap.  The problem is that when you do an episode about the characters pretending to do nothing, it’s still just as boring as when they’re sincerely doing nothing. 

Like, I’m just spitballing here, but they’re on an alien planet, where they could literally do anything the writers could imagine.  Why not have them go to an arcade, where they could play-duel with lightsabers?  Maybe they go scuba diving.  I don’t know. 

Instead they stay at the hospital, because there is literally nowhere else for them to go.  They can’t even eat anywhere else.  Okay, fine, but instead of having Goku fishing in their backyard, why not have him hunt for wild game in the Pital wilderness?  I know they want to keep close to Baby, but they also know Baby will come after them. 

Hell, let’s say they don’t want to leave the hospital grounds.  Fine.  Then have them check out some cool shit in the hospital.  They could go look at the new babies.  Just think of all the adorable baby aliens they could have put in this episode.  Maybe there’s a sick bird in the hospital, and Goku uses his Movie 5 Super Saiyan bird-healing powers to fix it.  That’d be fucking awesome. 

I think the thing that I keep circling around with these “Roaming Lake” comparisons is this: With GT, these dull episodes are the A-plot.  “The Roaming Lake” was just trying to fill time until the show could resume adapting the manga.  GT doesn’t have that logistical issue, and yet it still churns out dull filler anyway.  It’s like GT is waiting for a secret chapter of the Dragon Ball manga, and then they can do a kickass 65th episode, but until then we’re just sort of limping along with this side-story.

✨The Blade Braxton Memorial Haiku*✨

Come visit Pital!

See our nipple-biting deer

And poop-flavored fish.

#dragon ball #dragon ball gt #really sucks #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #goku #trunks #pan #giru #baby #*haiku does not come with crown as illustrated

[madtomedgar]

fanfic tropes :)

body-swap

arranged marriage

fake identities/'identity porn'/identity reveal

This is one of those hippie schools where they don't do letter grades btw.

Body swap: in theory i love love love it, but in execution it is often stupid. The potential for autonomy issues alone is so good. Like. I need the character to be preoccupied with how the other person is going to feel when they get their body back OR being kind of shitty about it on purpose and setting up the other character for The Horrors when they do get their body back (but then that needs to come to a head!). It's a great way to explore power/powerlessness if one character is physically much smaller/weaker than the other, who is much stronger and tougher. Forced empathy that nobody wants and therefore backfires horribly yes yes. The other fun thing about bodyswaps is the necessity of acting, and then you get to see how the characters see each other, and that often reveals a whole lot about their biases and assumptions. And like. Seeing how others see you is imo often A W F U L so like. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah.

Unfortunately it's mostly used for silly hijinks, "why didn't u tell me???" bs, and an excuse for "what if we had to fuck. and we were in each others bodies. and we were both boys O.O" and like. yawn. Do better. The potential is sky-high here people, get it together.

Arranged marriage: frustrating. in most fandoms i'm in i just do not buy socially mandated same-sex marriage. Arranged marriage is about property transfer and alliance through future offspring. That's not compatible with same-sex relationships being given the same social capital as straight ones. So as a set up for romance, i don't love it. As angst fodder where you have characters for whom this is like. The worst option? Yes, love it. Especially if they do care about each other but the situation brings out the worst in them. As you can tell I love torturing my faves. But yeah as a set up for romance, because I can't suspend my disbelief as far as worldbuilding for gay shit, and I'm supremely uninterested in hetero romance, not my thing.

Fake identities: hmmmmmmm. I like the concept. Usually the execution is kind of half-assed. I would LOVE a long fic where post-canon Lan Xichen thinks that he's found the re-incarnation of Jin Guangyao or like. Jin Guangyao possessing someone and is determined to be with them but it's either deeply unclear whether this person really is Jin Guangyao to the audience (but could go either way but never comfortably confirmed) OR it's clear to literally everyone else that this is Just Some Guy who is grifting OR it's a ghost or demon of some kind pretending and preying on Lan Xichen's guilt for nefarious purposes, but they can't get Lan Xichen to a) believe them or b) care because like 38 years of solitary confinement have Fucked Him Up Beyond Recognition :D.

But yeah the Potential I see here is like. "I'm stuck pretending to be this person and I have to be convincing but also they were a dick to you and I really like you so uh.... please have every good thing at my hands? oh shit they're back D:" (there's a kdrama called the crowned clown with this premise and it's GREAT especially because when the love interest finds out that the dick husband has been replaced with nice husband she is SO UPSET). Or like "i love you but i know if you knew who i was you would despise me so lemme just pretend to be someone else. maybe someone specific that you do love. this will be fine because it will never come out consequences are for other people" which. Yi City. Or the evergreen "you know me as I am now but not anything about who I was which I'm pretty sure is a load-bearing ignorance. Hope nothing happens to change this" which... that's less "pretending to be a different person" but it counts. But yeah I feel like it's mostly just "ooooOOOOoooo this EVIL person was PRETENDING THE WHOLE TIME!!! *gasp*" and that is just. the most boring iteration.

#untamed stuff #long post

[leverage-ot3]

“I’m with you till the end of the line” and “till my dying day” have the same energy pass it on

#this also applies to parker’s ‘for better or worse we change together’ #yes i will never be over stucky #they were fucking soulmates #and literally NOBODY could convince me that either of those boys was straight #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #alec hardison #eliot spencer #parker #parker leverage #ot3 meta #leverage meta #bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #crossover #stucky #steve rogers #im back on my marvel bullshit #mine #the long goodbye job #leverage 5.15 #leverage 5x15 #leverage season 5 #season 5

[moxfirefly]

B D J O V for Donnie, Karl and Alcina? (yes I am in love, no I dont have regrets uwu)

My 3 loves? Well why not! And pls enjoy the ficlet styles I’m going to opt for when doing dirty secrets! This is a little long so is going under the cut.

🩸🍷Alcina Dimitrescu🩸🍷

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

A bit of an odd one here but she loves backs, like your actual back. The line of your spine, if you have those back dimples, ufff. She loves the shape of it if you’re on the more curvier side, she loves the skin, and your rolls, and any stretch marks. Just picture that elegant hand of hers ghosting over your back, nails maybe even claws.

On herself, well Alcina is aware of her assets and she’s very aware of her chest, both she’s quite proud of but she’s really proud of her figure over all.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There was a pretty seamstress in the village who always was brought up to the castle to help with her dresses. She was a pretty thing in Alcina’s eyes, very much her type. When your making or fixing or measuring a tailor made outfit for a 9ft+ woman well it gets tricky and a little more handsy than usual. Alcina didn’t mind, the seamstress didn’t either. It was interesting following simple commands even if they were asked upon her with nothing but grace and poise.

So as Alcina sat for the 40th time to have something around her neck marked to be fixed, she had to stand between her legs to best approach and see the mistake. Only sitting did she have the best chance at seeing her at a more eye to eye level (well as best as it could be).

She isn’t dumb, she knows curiosity, want and lust like the back of her hand. Sees the nervous swallow of the seamstress whenever hands glide across her chest. The whispered ‘pardon my lady’ when she rests a palm on Alcina’s throat and takes a needle to the neckline with all the gentleness she can muster. Of course it’s the moment to prick her finger, the quiet hiss and scent is enough to alert Alcina and without waiting for her to fuss she takes that bleeding digit and kisses it, tastes the bead of blood, all while looking straight at her. When she still sees lust there, oh does she pull her closer.

One of her maids walks in about twenty minutes later, an array of materials in her arms so she doesn’t quite catch how the Lady of the castle smooths her dress and tries not to laugh, chest heaving a little and legs closing a tad. The maid greets her with her usual honorifics before leaving the requested materials, she notices the seamstress isn’t there and arches a brow at the room. “Lavatory” is all Alcina says before the maid makes a question. She nods but feels something isn’t right with the current picture but still leaves.

Once gone.

The seamstress crawls out from under Alcina’s skirt, mouth shiny, hair disheveled and nice set of teeth marks at her bosom.

It becomes a frequent thing after that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

It’s not to say she needs to because she sincerely feels she has anybody at her beck and call who is willing ready and able. But on the rare occasion she indulges in some self care, it’s mostly in her luxurious tub. Feeling the warm water, her hair clean and smelling of that weeks chosen fragrance, well it gets her thinking and thinking leads desiring and if there isn’t anybody she’ll handle it. Slow, she loves drawing out her own pleasure, loves to feel that rise but stops before it’s too close. She’ll do that, edge herself a little bit more before biting down on her lip to muffle a more particular louder cry.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Both. She lives for giving it and she loves to receive it. She is just, wow, so incredibly good at it, she’s goes about it in such erotic and passionate way and if you’re not looking like you are being possessed by the devil then she up’s her game to make sure that happens. You can squeeze her head with your thighs all you want, she’s built different lol she can handle it. Don’t yank to much on her hair though, claw at her all you want but easy on the do.

She’s had a few inexperienced lovers which she has to guide when they want to go down on her. She’s very particular of what and how she likes it, but she’s patient enough to teach you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I’ll do you one better, https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRSKhUoh/

⚙️Heisenberg⚙️

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

https://hagelpaimon.tumblr.com/post/661063110466158592/i-wonder-wonder-who-ill-pick-hesi-baby-a

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) shout out to @imthegreenfairy88 for helping me out with this one.

The first few times he indulged in this he was very adamant in keeping it to himself and to himself only (with time and reassurance he chills out) but the first time he tried doing ‘back door’ stuff on himself he was very surprised about how good it fucking felt and every so often he indulged in it. There’s an occasion where he ends up in bed with some tourist, gun to his head he doesn’t remember their name but he sure fucking remember the blow job and fingering combo that they gave him that had him seeing fucking stars. He tensed up at first was about to say something but they crooked their fingers just right and swallowed his cock at the same time and words were out the window along with thoughts.

He was so far gone that it didn’t cross his mind that when he begged for another finger, he gave himself away and if their eyes weren’t indication of how delighted they had been, feeling two more additional fingers really proved the point.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I mean I’m saying yea, he has to get creative with it sometimes so as to not get bored, but he picks up a few things he enjoys (he is creative after all) he’s definitely ruined his fair share of pillows, loves rutting into them. He has beat off probably in any section of the factory but shower is better for clean up. He for sure has done it outside of the factory, probably relaxing on a chair and if the weather is nice enough, it’s not like anybody is gonna suddenly drop by. He likes a tight closed fist when he’s close but enjoys a teasing touch to start things off, really enjoys grabbing his balls when he does it. Very messy messy boy when he cums.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

This man blows you like his life depends on it. VERY sloppy but it’s really hot, it’s how eager he is about it and how willing he is to suffocate and or choke on it. He’s told you to sit on his face multiple times at multiple moments of the day. He loves the taste of you, loves feeling suffocated by your thighs. You know what they about big noses too 🥴🥴

As for receiving he likes to dish out what he takes. So expect some rough mouth fucking, he will make you gag, he will make you all teary eyed cause he enjoys it. He’s fine with it without to be honest, he much prefers to be balls deep in you but if you enjoy doing it then expect hip thrusting.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not super loud, but he isn’t mute. He groans and moans but he’s also a talker so expect a lot dirty talk. His voice drops in a way when he’s fucking you that it makes your toes curl. He’s all breathy pants when he’s close. Lots and lots of cuss words.

👾Donnie💜

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

https://hagelpaimon.tumblr.com/post/661063462078889985/b-body-part-their-favourite-body-part-of-theirs

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes the taste of his own cum.

He denies it, really denies it, just says it’s his way of cleaning you up after a nice romp but he really has a way of proving the opposite. Donnie has ‘finished’ on you in every way shape or form. On your stomach, back, face etc you name and each time he has cleaned you up he’s either wiped it up and sucked on his fingers or he’s just full blown licked it off of you.

And there is something so disgustingly erotic about that you haven’t or don’t want to call him out on it. You’ve gone down on his multiple times and he very eager to kiss you after your done. One time you purposefully left some on your chin and lips to see if he’d clean it up first but nah, kissed the heck out of you. His favorite is cumin in you and then going down on you. The first time he did that, it was enough to make your toes curl till they cracked and just as you were about to say something he was yanking another orgasm from you. The combined taste of his and yours release? Fuck now that was his favorite.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Does it and does it often. He’s not prudish about it, it’s free oxytocin and for a guy who’s convinced he’s never gonna get a shot at being with somebody physically, might as well practice some self love.

Loves visual stimulation but he’s really into audio stimuli. Likes those audios where he feels he’s there with the person or the ones where they give instructions. Donnie is really into edging and if he’s got the time and privacy he can literally edge himself for a couple of hours. Has at times managed hands free orgasms. Has made cock sleeves or basically fleshlights (ah ingenuity), can have his moments where he’s super slow and teasing about it, light strokes and all that. Can also have moments where he basically fucks his fist to the point of making some pretty obscene wet noises. If listening to audios or watching videos he really loves trying to cum at the same time as the person in the vid or audio. Has a bottle of lotion right on the desk but that shit is so cluttered with stuff that nobody has picked up on it and honestly it’s kinda funny.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

GIVE GIVE GIVE.

Oh my lord is he OBSESSED with giving oral. It’s such a big turn on for him. He just loves how intimate it is, he loves how he’s giving you pleasure in such an intimate position. LOVES over stimulating with his mouth, loves feeling thighs trying to break his head, happy to die down the suffocated in his favorite place, loves feeling a hand at the back of his head and pushing him in further.

He’s not crazy about receiving cause he knows his size is a challenge but he’s not opposed to it, he much rather get a hand job from you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Loud and not afraid about it. He enjoys the fuck out of it and is going to be vocal about it unless it’s adamant to be quiet because people are around. His churrs are really nice, deep but not as baritone as say Raph’s, but they feel and sound so good.

#tmnt bayverse #re8 village #donnie #heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #lady d #lady dimitrescu #tmnt Donatello #Karl Heisenberg #lord heisenberg #tmnt Donnie #Donatello #ns*w alphabet #ask #dianounais

[hargrove-mayfields]

Memories Are Golden

The prom of ‘85 was just one week away. If you asked Steve how much involvement he would’ve have in the event, not even a month ago he would’ve guessed it to be nothing more than maybe taking a flyer home and immediately throwing it in the trash.

Because he wouldn’t be able to go anyways, him and his date didn’t exactly abide by the administration's rules, or society’s, for that matter, so he didn’t care about the whole thing, until last minute, when Nancy had successfully convinced him to be a part of the prom committee with her.

The conversation had basically been a very lengthy guilt trip, he’s well aware of that, and her whole, ‘best moments of our lives’ speech hadn’t really done much to change his mind either.

In the end, Steve had only decided he was going to do it for three reasons: he’d get extra credit in the teacher in charge of prom, the math teachers, class, he wouldn’t have to go to any of his morning classes, and Robin joined in on Nancy’s bullying him because her and Heather would be apart of the committee too.

So now for the next week leading up to the big day, Steve has to spend his mornings in the gym putting up the decorations for the grand march.

But it isn’t all bad, because their small little task force made up of the other poor souls Nancy had rallied to do this with her is all of his friends, Nancy and Barb and Robin and Heather, with the addition of one very begrudging Billy Hargrove.

The girls were all the type you’d expect to be into this thing, the crafty ones mixed in with popularity, and everyone knew Steve would do anything to show school spirit, especially if Nancy bullied him into it, but nobody actually expected Billy of all people to even show up.

He certainly looked more likely to be the one crashing the prom than hanging up little foil stars on the walls, and anyways, rumor had it he only was on the committee as an alternative to detention for smoking weed under the bleachers.

But Steve knew that had absolutely not happened, for one thing, Billy’s weed stayed tightly locked up in his bedroom, thank you very much, and for another, he was there completely willingly. Steve knew that, because he’d been the one to tell Billy to sign up.

Which, when it really got right down to it, Billy honestly was the only reason Steve was even doing this whole thing. They were used to working in a couple of very limited interactions on the court or in the few classes they shared, but with the prom committee they’d be required to spend at least four hours together every day. It was the golden opportunity, even if that wasn’t the way Nancy intended it.

So maybe Billy does show up a little late every morning on purpose, just to keep up appearances, but he’s got a smile on his face, hidden behind the styrofoam coffee cup he gets from the cafeteria as he seeks out Steve and sits beside him in the bleachers to wait for that days instruction.

“Mornin’ Bill.” Steve mumbles tiredly, used to coming in late every day and getting at least an extra hour of sleep most days.

Billy nods and hums in his throat as his only response, so Steve asks him, “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’?”

And of course, in true Billy fashion, he flashes Steve his most shit eating grin, and says all nonchalant, “Always do when I wake up alone.”

It’s so cheesy, and very obviously meant to get to him, but Steve can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck. He’s still trying to think up an equally as flustering comeback, when the teacher in charge finally shows up.

She announces that this year’s theme was ‘under the stars’, which Steve thought sounded incredibly tacky, but there was still no way it would be any worse than the godawful ‘hollywood’ theme from the year before. Hawkins High had a reputation for a lot of things, but creativity was not one of them.

They get split up into groups, Nancy and Barb in charge of the promo, the writing up, designing, and printing of the announcements and tickets, and Robin and Heather got the delicate detail work, blowing up balloons, laying down the artificial grass squares and hanging or putting in place whatever the other groups made them.

Billy and Steve, on the other hand, were stuck with all the dirty work, the manly jobs. They’re the ones who have to paint the banner that’s going to go over the door, and carry anything that’s considered too heavy and hang anything too high (even though Barb really isn’t that much shorter than them), and set up the tents and string the electricity to the lights in the fake lamp posts.

Quite frankly, Steve doesn’t think it’s fair that they have double the workload as the girls, most of the week had been dedicated to their work, but he just can’t bring himself to complain about getting to watch Billy working every morning, still barely awake yet, his hair pulled up so it didn’t get paint or that much glitter in it.

~~~~~~~~

On their last day in the gym, all that’s left is to sort out a few last minute details, the final squares of fake grass are laid out, lights are tested and glitter is spread out on everything. It doesn’t take too awful long, so they end up with just under three hours leftover to kill.

What they’re supposed to do is report back to their morning classes and try to catch up on all the work they’ve been missing out on for the entire week, but Billy isn’t looking to worry about a bunch of school work, so he tries to convince the rest to skip those last few hours with him.

From Barb and Nancy he gets an instant no, which, he was honestly expecting that. They’re responsible girls, and he can’t blame them for giving two shits about their education. The fact of the matter is though, that he doesn’t.

What he isn’t expecting as much is for his best friend to tell him no, but Heather’s too excited about her senior prom to get in trouble the day before it, and he can respect that.

He already knows that if Heather’s not going, Robin’s not either, so he waves her off before she even bothers trying to explain herself.

That just leaves Steve, and lord knows Billy’s been a bad enough influence on him that he doesn’t even have to ask if he’s ditching, so when Mrs Mitchell and the girls leave, they follow behind until they’re out in the hallway, then duck out of the back entrance of the gym.

Most of the time when people skip they just go home considering the lack of literally anything at all to do around Hawkins, but with Steve’s house too far away for it to be worth leaving, and Billy’s stepmom still at home, that sort of wasn’t an option for them.

Usually they don’t skip for those very reasons, but today they have a handwritten excuse to be out of their classes until exactly 12:15, so in a way, it isn’t so much like skipping as it is just using their free time wisely. Or at least, that’s how Steve rationalizes it, earning from Billy, who thought it was sweet that his former bad boy felt it necessary to make excuses for skipping, a chuckle and a warm smile.

They decide to just hang out on the school grounds, nowhere in town to go but the diner and the stores downtown, and they weren’t in the mood for food nor did they have enough money to blow buying stupid shit they didn’t need, so smoking and sneaking kisses by the tree line on the practice field it was.

It’s nice, but Billy doesn’t like the quiet, furrowed brow as he plucks blades of just growing grass trying to think of something to say that would break the silence. Steve just waits patiently with a lit cigarette burning out between his fingers for Billy to speak, listening intently when he finally says, “You know, s’a shame that I can’t take you to the prom after all that work we did for it.”

“Nah, prom’s way overrated.” Steve blows him off, not wanting him to feel bad about it, personally viewing the dance as stupid anyways, in a way sort of glad he doesn’t have to go, “It’s just a way to pay for new football uniforms and make kids who piqued in highschool feel good about themselves.”

But Billy doesn’t even laugh at that, flicking the head off a dandelion to keep his hands busy as he basically mumbles, “Guess you had time to think ‘bout it already.”

“Yeah. I guess I just always thought dances were kind of dumb. Now that I’m not King Steve anymore I just don’t really see a reason to bother with ‘em.” Steve explains, sliding his hand over to Billy’s across the tips of cool blades of grass, linking their pinkies together and leaning his head against his shoulder, soft touches like these the only way Billy could tell the difference between an open conversation and an argument.

“Still, think it’d be nice to be able to show you off. Let ‘em know what they’ve been missing.” Billy admits, a shy crack of a smile, like he was afraid to bring it up, and it makes Steve smile back, looking straight into the vulnerability behind his blue eyes and saying so softly it’s almost a whisper, “S’not necessary, B. I’m all yours.”

Billy pulls his hand away, a flush on his cheeks that wasn’t just from the warmth of the sun, overwhelmed by the affection just a bit, not uncomfortable with it, just not used to it, and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s, telling him, “God, you’re such a sap.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to take me to the prom.” Steve says, barely even defensive, making Billy smile again.

There’s a break in the conversation, both of them flustered and thinking about the other, until Steve interrupts the quiet this time, leaning back on his hands in the grass and suggesting, “We could do our own prom though, you know.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, we can’t do the real thing, obviously, but I don’t have any other plans tomorrow. You should drop by.”

“You’re really askin’ me to be your prom date?” Billy smirks, but the vulnerable hope in his eyes gives him away, and makes Steve’s heart flutter, though he replies nonchalant, “Who else? Be there at 8:30?”

“It’s a date. See you then, pretty boy.” Billy says with a smile, leaning in to kiss Steve, but getting interrupted by his watch beeping, their break time almost up already.

Steve chuckles and kisses his nose, and says, “Guess we better get back then.” waiting for Billy to leave first so his boyfriend had a head start to get into the school before him.

Billy throws a wink over his shoulder as he retreats towards the gym doors, and suddenly the weight of what they’d just agreed to settles with Steve.

Maybe this prom thing wasn’t as overrated as he thought, because did he ever feel over the moon right now, blushing like an idiot and just standing there dazedly until he hears the bell ring inside the building.

Apparently it showed too, that butterflies in his stomach feeling he had for the rest of the day, if the fact that Robin pulled him aside in the cafeteria for an emergency meeting about why he couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face was any indication.

He told her some lie, something about one of the teachers he got his makeup work off of cutting him some slack, and Robin doesn’t believe that, but she knows it’s none of her business, so she lets him keep smiling.

Still, as much as Steve was looking forward to this, at the end of the day when he waved at Billy from across the parking lot, he got nervous. Like, speeding back home to Loch Nora in under ten minutes on a normally fifteen minute drive nervous.

Because he still has a lot of shit to get done between now and tomorrow night when Billy is supposed to show up.

For one thing, his house is a disaster. He almost never cleans it until it’s too late, half-assing the dishes and overloading the washing machine and hiding things in closets usually the day before his parents were supposed to get back.

Another thing is how should he dress? He had a few fancy suits of his own from outings with his parents and past dances, but he knew Billy wouldn’t. Still, wouldn’t it be rude to underdress just because he assumed Billy would be too poor to clean up?

And what did people even do at prom? Get drunk and have sex? If Billy wanted to do that he would’ve just said so. How was Steve supposed to figure out what else they were going to do? The rest of prom is just bad dancing and even worse food, was that something he was supposed to include?

What if he’d sent the wrong signal in the first place and it wasn’t just going to be them? What if Billy showed up at his door with a bunch of other losers skipping out on prom night and this wasn’t really special at all?

The thing is, he knows he’s being irrational. Billy’s not the type to care about this stuff, and even if he did he wasn’t gonna like, break things off just because their little fake prom in Steve’s living room wasn’t perfect. That’s just ridiculous.

So he tries to redirect that initial panic into productivity. Get at least something planned out and put together before he freaks all the way out and loses his motivation.

He decides to do it in small parts, tonight he’d start with the cleaning and getting everything he already had together, and tomorrow would be for shopping and decorating.

Because he’s got such a scatterbrain, he makes a list of all the things he needed to get done before 8:30 tomorrow night, and already he feels the stress start to dissipate with each thing he gets to check off, the living room cleaned until Ruthie would approve, picking out a nice sweater he’d never worn before, fancy but not too much, and tracking down all the things he already had, a record player, the fancy wine Billy said he liked, and a couple of strings of fairy lights and tinsel.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he goes straight to Melvald’s, with the rest of his checklist to but candles, more decorations, a boutonnière, just to do it, and maybe something other than takeout to eat for once.

He must look as nervous as he feels, dumping his purchases on the counter, because Joyce smiles that understanding smile of hers, and asks him, “Last minute jitters before prom?”

“You could say that.” He responds breathily, trying to return the smile.

“Jonathan and Nancy decided not to go, but it sounds like it’ll be fun.” Joyce says with a nod, and Steve realizes he’s given her the wrong impression, explaining, “Oh, I’m not going to the real thing either, just hanging out with a friend tonight.”

“Well that sounds nice anyways.” She says, as she rings up his stuff remarking, “You must really like this friend to go all out like this.”

“Yeah he’s-“ Steve physically shakes his head, a reminder to stop talking before he gets himself caught, backpedaling with a shaky excuse, “I-I mean, it’s not like it’s a prom date , it’s just, you know, two guys hanging out.“

Joyce puts her hand on his, that same warm smile still on her face, and tells him, looking him right in the eye as if to say, ‘I know, but it’s okay’, “I’m happy for you, Steve. Have fun tonight.”

Steve nods, a flush to his cheeks as he leaves the store with not another word than, “I… Thank you Mrs. Byers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy knew absolutely jack and shit about school dances.

The first and only he’d ever been bothered to go to was way back in elementary school, and that didn’t exactly hold a candle to the fucking prom.

It helped some that it wasn’t the real thing, but Steve was talking like it might as well be, and quite frankly, he wanted it to be. This was going to be special goddamnit.

But before he can even think too much about it, he realizes none of that will matter if it turns out he can’t show, so he brings it up with his dad at dinner.

At the table is where he’s least likely to get beat if Neil said no, so that was always the time he chose to ask for things. “I know it’s, uh, kind of last minute ‘cause it’s tomorrow night, but could I go to the prom?”

Neil quirks an eyebrow, seeming mostly uninterested, “With who?”

“Nobody as a date.” Billy explains, using the cover story he’d been coming up with since the minute Steve asked him, or rather in anticipation of, “Heather has a spare ticket ‘cause her actual date ditched her last minute and she asked me if I would go with her.”

Neil nods, seemingly believing him, and asks, “When’s it start?”

“Uh, about 8, I think, so I’ll probably leave at like, 6:30 or so.” Billy throws it out nervously, tapping his fingers against the underside of the table, and freezing when Neil speaks.

But he doesn’t get yelled at, it’s just a simple, calm, “Susan, do we have anything planned that time tomorrow?”

“No, dear. Max is going with her friends at six, but other than that...” Comes her timid response without a hitch, and Billy already knows he’s in the clear before Neil gives his response, still not looking up from the table.

He agrees, but with a few conditions that Billy wouldn’t dare disobey, “If you drop your sister off first, you’ve got yourself a deal. Just don’t come home if you’re drunk, and don’t waste all my damned money on pictures.”

Billy nods, his heart racing in anticipation of something he was pretty sure at this point wasn’t going to happen, though some part of him was still waiting for the slap across the face and a never your mind as he says dutifully, “Yessir. Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Billy starts getting ready six hours early for two reasons: for one thing, the sooner he’s ready, the more time he had away from Neil and to psyche himself up to knock on Steve’s door, and for another, his hair on a normal day takes at least an hour if he doesn’t want it frizzing out or losing it’s curl or getting heavy, and this was his prom, he was willing to spend a whole day on his hair for the sake of looking nice, even if there were no pictures of it.

Of course Max, being the little nuisance she is, follows him to his bedroom when he goes to get ready, holding the door open with her foot so he couldn’t slam it in her face, and earning herself a grumbly, “What do you want, Maxine?”

“I thought you told me you weren’t going to the prom.” She says it like she caught him doing something wrong, as if plans couldn’t change, and it pisses Billy off a little bit.

“I’m not-“ He starts to explain, cutting himself off when somewhere in the house Neil pops the tab on a beer can, a tiny sound Max probably hadn’t even picked up on, but if his father was out and about in the house Billy doesn’t want to admit what he’s going to in front of him. He opens his door wider and ushers his step sister in, immediately shutting it behind her and finishing what he was saying,  “I’m not going to the prom.”

She quirks an eyebrow, through Billy’s eyes maybe looking a bit too much like her step-dad when she does it, “Why’d you tell Neil you were?”

“Crashing the after party. Thought it’d look better if I said I went.” He just shrugs, half assing the lie, and, picking up on that, Max fires back smugly, “You’re lying.”

Billy snaps, no longer looking at her while he starts lining his shit up on his makeshift vanity, getting ready to get ready, “Yeah, I am. But it’s really none of your business, shitbird.”

“Are you going on a date or something?” She looks at him knowingly, if not a little surprised, and asks as it dawns on her, “Oh my god, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Maxine Nicole!” He hisses through his teeth, turning to glare at her and seeing that she’s holding his hair spray that he literally just put out, probably planning on stealing it, “Jesus, give me that.”

She lets him snatch it out of her hands and puts it back in its spot on the vanity she told him didn’t count as a vanity multiple times, rolling her eyes, “Yeesh. I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“If you’re going to tell on me Max, I swear to god-“ He starts, defensive, more vulnerability in his voice than intended, but Max insists honestly, the most not bratty she’s been since she stepped into his room, “I’m not, I wouldn’t.”

Though it doesn’t last very long, her not being a brat, because she immediately cracks a big smile and asks Billy, “Who is he though?”

“Mind your own, Max, Christ.” Billy blows her off, catching glimpse of himself in the mirror and taking note of the barely there flush to his cheeks, pointing to the door and telling his meddling step sister, “Out.”

“Awww, Billy-“ She tries to whine, but he cuts her off, “ No. Out. Of. My. Room.”

But Max offers quickly, like it’ll change his mind, “I’ll do your hair if you let me stay.”

And maybe it doesn’t immediately change his mind, but it does successfully stump him, because he’s asking her, equal parts genuine curiosity and sarcasm, “Why would I let you touch my hair?”

“No reason.” Max says, looking down at his carpet, definitely overplaying the bashfulness in bringing up her answer to appeal to Billy’s emotions, “I just thought, and maybe it’s stupid but like, most guys have their moms to fuss over them for prom, but, you know, you don’t, so I wanted to, I don’t know, be a good sister and do that for you or, whatever.“

Billy sighs, that had been exactly what he was thinking about all night last night, how his momma would be proud of him for finding a way to do this with the person, the boy he loved, and how she could’ve been there to do exactly what Max said, so he agrees, “Alright shitbird, guilt trip successful. You’re not kicked out.”

Max claps her hands together and sits on her brother's bed, getting all of Billy’s wrinkled button ups tossed at her from where they had been previously shoved, unfolded into a dresser drawer, and a command to, “Help me pick a shirt.”

She asks him while she’s unfolding all of his shirts he’d thrown at her and spreading them all out over Billy’s bed, “Are you going to button it.”

“What do you think?”

“Billy. It’s your prom.”

“Fine. One more button.”

“Two?” She tries to bargain, but he shuts it down again, making her giggle when he jokes, his tone level like it's a real threat, “One or I‘m going shirtless.”

“Then I pick.. this blue one.” Max says and puts her hand on a navy blue, quarter sleeve shirt after careful consideration of holding each button up up to Billy and thinking hard about it, but one more once over and she changes her mind, handing Billy a white shirt with snap buttons instead, “No, no, no, wait, this one with full sleeves is better. Yeah, that one for sure.”

“Sleeves it is.” Billy says taking the shirt and hanging it on the door so he’d remember to iron it, crudely shoving the rest of the button ups back into the drawer, and asking Max, “Will I need to wear like, a coat or something?”

She shrugs asking him smugly, “That depends on who it is.”

“Sensitive information.” Billy says immediately, when she looks like she’s going to argue shutting her down before she can say anything, “Which means I’m not tellin’ you.”

“Can I guess?” Max asks, making her case by reasoning with him sweetly, “Please? You wouldn’t be telling me that way.”

He genuinely considers it for a minute, and decides it’s whatever, in his head assuming there was no way Max would be able to figure it out, so he waves his hand with an eye roll, giving her the go ahead to start guessing.

Her first question is, “Okay, okay. Is it.. someone I know?”

“Yep.”

Max furrows her brow, and asks, “Do I like him?” To which Billy shrugs and responds, “Probably.”

“Um, is it…” Max snaps her fingers, an idea coming to her, “Is it Tommy?”

But again she’s shut down, because for somebody she’s supposed to probably like, she sure does a lot of complaining about Tommy, and he calls her on it, “Do you like Tommy?”

Max hums thoughtfully, taking a second guess, “I guess not. Is it Keith?”

Billy shakes his head, giving her the most confused look she’d ever seen on his face as he asks, or basically exclaims, “Who the fuck is Keith ?”

“Well excuuse me for not knowing a lot of guys around here!” Max says, defensive, making Billy roll his eyes again and turn back to digging through his drawers for a decent pair of jeans to wear with a button up, most of them stained and worn.

“Not Tommy, not Keith, who’s left?” She thinks hard then gasps, connecting something in her mind, a devious, knowing little smile on her face, “Is it Steve?”

Billy doesn’t answer her, quite frankly doesn’t know what he should say. It’s his fault, letting her guess between the only three boys his age in town she apparently knew, but now that Max knew who his mystery boyfriend was he wasn’t feeling so hot.

Honestly, some part of him is expecting Neil to come busting through the door any second, like this was some sort of run around way of finding him out, but after a few minutes of her squealing like teenage girls do, he realizes all he has to face is an excited little sister.

He flushes, and asks her over his shoulder, his forcing his tone to sound bored, “Are you done?”

“Yes.” Max says, nodding, but she smiles wide and dissolves into a fit of giggles again, covering her mouth with her hands when Billy crosses his arms, and insists, “Okay, okay, I’m done!”

“Good.” Billy says, but he can’t help cracking a smile. He angles his mirror down towards the floor and sits in front of it, telling his sister lightly to, “Help me with my hair then, shitbird.”

Max sits behind him, and runs her fingers through his hair, “You should’ve put curlers in it or something last night.”

Billy rolls his eyes, realizing as he does so for the dozen things time since Max barged in that she maybe learned that from him, deciding that doesn’t even warrant a response, and hands Max the comb and one of the many cans of hairspray off of his vanity.

She sits up on her knees, and brushes back the hairs just behind his ears that always frizz out and lose their curl, holding them at the back of his hair with a bobby pin, one of the blond ones she bought specifically for him so he could use them without immediately getting caught using ‘girly’ things, but had so far been too scared to anyways.

It looks strange on him, looks more like something Max would wear than him, but honestly he doesn’t hate it, so he lets her keep going, only frowning a little when she adds a pearl adorned hair clip, big enough it looks more like a fancy brooch, to the back of his hair.

She sprays it with so much hairspray it’s tacky, scrunching it up so his curls are tighter, and smoothing the sides so they won’t come unclipped.

When every curl is in its place and approved by Billy, who insists he’s not in the least bit emotional about what Max had said early, that thing about having nobody but her to fuss over him, she hops up, telling him to, “Wait one minute.” while she runs to her room.

She returns with her bulky pink Caboodles box, the one that has all of her mostly unused makeup in it, tapping him on the shoulder and telling him, “Alright, turn towards me.”

Her plan didn’t work though, at least he’s almost positive it was her plan to break down his defenses just so she could use him as her dress up doll anyways, but he isn’t having it, telling her quickly to “Put that shit away, Max.”

“Why? You wear makeup everyday.” Max observes simply, making Billy hiss and tell her to lower her voice, “Yeah, but never the extra strength shit that makes your eyelashes curly and your face pretty. Neil will sniff this out the second I step out of this room.”

Max just shrugs, “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t see your face. It’s not a big deal.”

“He’ll make it into one.”

“I think your senior prom is an even bigger deal, though.”

Billy sighs, once again losing to her arguing skill, and turning to face her like she told him, “You owe me if I get caught like this.”

Max rolls her eyes and does her magic, each second that passes Billy regretting agreeing to turning the control of his appearance over to his little sister, expecting to come out of this looking like her Diva doll, fidgeting more and more the longer it takes her.

Just before he’s about to panic, Max tells him, “All done.” and lets him look in the mirror.

He blinks repeatedly at his own reflection, surprised to see he didn’t have sparkly eyeshadow up to his eyebrows or rouge on his cheeks, just a tasteful amount of lip gloss and a copper tint to his eyelids, framed by darker than usual eyelashes and the smallest bit of eyeliner.

She gets impatient after a few minutes of Billy not saying anything, and pushes his shoulders to turn him around again to look at her, staring at him until she decides what she thinks is missing.

She hurries to the upright jewelry box in her mother’s room, and brings him back a clip on pearl earring for his right ear, opposite the chain of silver stars she already picked for his left.

“Here, it’ll look better if you have earrings in both ears.” She reaches up, pushing his hair out of the way and clipping the earring on, letting him do the screw on the back himself so she didn’t make it too tight.

Billy lowers his hand and scrunches his nose, leaning in slightly towards the mirror, “They don’t match.”

“It looks nice though. You look really pretty.” She tells him honestly, not realizing the impact the simple compliment, though not so simple for somebody like him, has on her brother until he’s trying to subtly blink away tears behind mascara coated lashes, pretending like that wasn’t the case and telling her, “Whatever, it’s too late to change it now if you want to be on time.”

He does one last once over himself in the mirror, though he knows he’s going to be using his car windows for the same purpose at the last minute, and shoos Max out of his bedroom door, trying to hurry out of the house before Neil can stop him and see him all dolled up.

He’s got one hand around the door knob and his keys through his belt loop when his dad does stop him, his heart just about stopping as Neil calls from the other room, “Do you have flowers for the girl?”

“I have a corsage in the car.” Billy lies, hoping his tone is sure enough for Neil to buy it.

“Good. Just remember what I said, boy.” Neil says, still from the living room, so Billy lets his posture relax a bit and breathes out a quiet sight, saying casually, “Get Max to her friends, don’t spend any money, and don’t come home drunk, I got it, dad.”

“Watch the attitude, William.” Neil says low, the air going still for a minute until he adds, “And have fun tonight.”

“Yessir.” Billy says, ushering Max quickly out the front door, sighing when it closes behind them.

~~~~~~~

Billy drops Max off at the Wheeler’s, just driving around Hawkins until it’s time to show up at Steve’s, making sure to stop past the Holloway’s place just in case Neil went asking around wanting to know if anybody saw his car in the neighborhood.

At 8, he decides he doesn’t want to show up empty handed, buying Steve some flowers like he’d lied and said he had for Heather from Melvald’s, not understanding the knowing look the cashier lady has in her eye when he brings a dinky bouquet of flowers to the checkout counter.

He rings the doorbell at 8:30 on the dot, checking himself out one last time in Steve’s window while he waits, fifty cent roses held behind his back.

On the other side of the door, Steve stands in the dining room, now adorned with cheap party decorations that would’ve made his mother pitch a fit, waiting a whole thirty seconds before he goes to answer it, trying to collect himself first.

Billy smiles wide, and, as cheesy as it was, seeing him standing there all dressed up taking Steve’s breath away and stealing the words right off his tongue, Billy having to invite himself in because Steve was busy catching flies.

He hands him the flowers, nodding towards the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister, the stars hanging in the archway that lead into the living room that were almost identical to the ones they hung from the basketball hoops at school and saying, “Place looks nice.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Steve says, quickly adding, “You know, you look nice too.”

Billy smiles softly, looking at him with that ‘you’re an idiot Steve Harrington’ look he was so used to by now, “C’mon, Stevie, we’ve been dating for four months now, you don’t gotta be all awkward with me still.”

“I’m not, I mean it, you look really good, Billy.” Steve says, smiling now that it’s his turn to fluster Billy.

“Oh by the way, I almost forgot. Got you this just because.” He remembers, handing Billy a box with a floral pin inside, pink roses with lace, and telling him expectantly, “It’s a boutonnière.”

But Billy doesn't open it, just raises an eyebrow and says, “I thought you did corsages for prom?”

“Corsages are for the girls.”

“Ah. Got it.” He says it like he already knew that, like he was hoping maybe Steve didn’t, so Steve offers, not really understanding it, but knowing what he means all the same, “It came as a set, I still have the corsage upstairs, if you want it.”

Billy nods and pins the boutonnière to Steve’s shirt instead, explaining simply, “Just so we match.”

Steve runs upstairs and gets the corsage, giving Billy a minute to actually appreciate just how much went into decorating this place, snickering to himself when he imagines Steve having to stand on a step ladder to put the string lights so high up on the wall.

Steve tosses Billy the box from the top of the steps, letting him open it while he comes back down and ties it around his wrist, having to tie it twice because he put it on the wrong way the first time.

Billy asks him, shaking his wrist to make sure the bow is tight enough, “So what’s our official plan for tonight, Stevie?”

“Honestly I don’t really know. I’m sort of just winging it here, I don’t know what you even do at prom.”

“You never went at all?” Billy asks, surprised miss priss hadn’t dragged him along to their junior prom last year.

“Nope. Like I said, overrated.” Steve confirms, and Billy smiles wide, saying, “I’m sure I got a few ideas in mind then.”

~~~~~~~~

Billy’s idea basically consisted mainly of drinking all that fancy wine Steve had gotten out of the cellar specifically for this, shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat, and complaining about the real prom happening up at the school.

Honestly, Steve suspects things wouldn’t have been so different had they actually gone, but he can tell the fact that they weren’t able to go was still bothering Billy, judging by the sheer number of times he brings it up.

After what must be the tenth time that night Billy brought up Heather and Robin getting to go, Steve asks him, “Do you wish we were there?”

“No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t give a damn less about the whole dance, a thousand times over I’d rather just be here with you.”

“But?”

“But I wish we had the choice to go, you know? It’s just, bugging me that if we had genuinely wanted to go, we couldn’t’ve.” Billy rants, very obviously having been holding this in, “And I keep thinking about all the other gay kids who don’t have a big empty house or a safe place to do what we’re doin’.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a big deal. Prom is pretty much all for the parents anyways, and the way I see it we, and all the other people like us, we’re so used to disappointing them, what’s it matter if we don’t go?”

“Just, I don’t care about the event or whatever, but it feels like we’re missing out on something. Like maybe we should’ve just swallowed our pride and went with Hetty and Robin anyways.”

Steve stands up abruptly, picking up their wine glasses and kicking the coffee table all the way over to the far wall to clear the floor, offering Billy his hand, “I know you feel like you’re robbing me of something by us not going, but we don’t need all of that for this to be good. I meant it when I said that’s superficial to me anyways. We can make it mean something to us.”

Billy looks up at him, still bothered deep down, but out of ways to argue about it, and accepts Steve’s hand, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck when he pulls him close by his waist.

It’s not really a slow dance as much as it is an excuse to just be close to one another, to breathe each other in and sneak kisses and be sappy, but that’s was this whole thing was about. They could’ve just hung out tonight if they wanted, and honestly they probably would’ve anyways, but they called it a prom, put that title to it that made both of their hearts pitapat.

Steve had always heard, even felt it a few times before, that when you were with the person you loved, everyone and everything else would melt away around you until it was just you, but somehow, this was different than that.

Because that would mean there were times when his world didn’t revolve around Billy, and that there was ever a moment when he could focus on anything but the boy he loved, and that just wasn’t true.

This wasn’t performative, wasn’t a relationship formed on the status of being able to show off that they were better for being in love either, this was simply Billy and Steve, dancing in their tennis shoes on Ruthie's carpet, snickering when a particularly sappy song came on the radio, barely able to be separated long enough to turn to side B, falling in love all over again under the stars.

~~~~~~~

When the wine bottles are all empty and the stack of records has been spun through, Steve’s schnockered, and insisting they get a picture, searching the house for an old Polaroid camera and making Billy stand with him in front of the fairy lights strung

They only had three chances to get a good picture, no new packs of film and only a few left in the camera, so Steve took all three.

The first one was upside down and so off center he was hardly in it, Steve being maybe a little more drunk than he thought, and the second Billy closed his eyes because the flash was too bright, but it didn’t matter too much anyways because the film didn’t develop properly and the picture was nothing but reddish-yellow tinted blackness anyways.

The third one by some chance turns out fine, maybe a little blurred because he moved and still not quite centered right, but it’s a picture, something to hold onto the memory of this night forever when the hangover wore off and things got a little blurry, and that was important to the both of them, for different reasons.

As soon as it develops, a little 8 by 10 of Billy kissing his cheek, Steve runs upstairs to hang it on the cork board above his desk before it gets misplaced, dating it and doodling a little heart with a S+B inside it, hiding the picture behind a ribbon for a middle school art contest and a picture of him and his parents.

Billy hooks his chin over his shoulder, his hands traveling a bit lower than Steve’s waist this time as he watches what he’s doing. He hums and asks, when Steve stands up straighter and turns in his arms to face him, “So? What have you got planned for the after prom, Stevie?”

#stranger things fanfiction #harringrove #billy x steve #billy & max #steve harrington #billy hargrove #max mayfield #ej writer #story by ej! #slipped in the teensiest bit of billy w/ ocd because i can #also gnc billy #there’s a lot more characters but they don’t have major enough roles to tag #posted to ao3 yesterday

[myelocin]

Redefining You | Kuroo T. , Miya A.

Summary: The three times you realize you love Tetsurou, and the fourth where you finally say it. A redefinition of the love that came to you, unanswered. 

Characters/Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou, You, (Miya Atsumu comes on ch 2)

Warnings/ Genre: Mentions of alcohol (beer?), tattooed!Kuroo, Angst, Unrequited Love, Healing, Slice of Life

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: I felt some things last night and thought about some songs, so therefore here is an angst that is near and dear to my heart. 

[Part 1] | Part 2  | Epilogue | Bonus

-

The first time the thought came to you was at age 13. You didn’t know what love was, never really felt it before, but as you stared at the way he hid behind his bangs and shuffled closer to his black jacket- you felt it. The first tap on your heart, first flutter of the butterflies, and the first kisses of an oncoming blush blooming onto the apples of your cheeks.

At thirteen, Kuroo Tetsurou said his hellos through cheeky smiles and light laughter. When he didn’t have volleyball, he’d be seated next to you in your orchestra class sharing a music stand, and engaging in small talk. He scoffed at your weird jokes, but he looked straight at you when you talked about your day. 

You remember thinking about him in the school bus on the way home.

In him, you saw happiness; felt it even. During movie “dates” where the two of you watched Bridge to Terabithia while video calling at one in the morning because actual dates at the movie theater weren’t allowed by your mom just yet. Now, in your older years, you still often think back to those moments and laugh to yourself at how you turned beet red at Tetsurou typing ‘ur cute.’ on the chat box.

And so at thirteen years old, though still innocent towards the idea of love, through your own definitions you decided that the only explanation was that you loved him. And so love him you did.

-

The second time was four years later. You had moved abroad after your mother’s passing, and hadn’t really thought about the boy with the seemingly eternal bedhead. You flowed into your new routine quite easily despite the stark difference in culture and environment. At this point, though you still had moments where your thoughts ghosted over Tetsurou, you concluded it to be the stage where it had become just a funny memory.

Except, of course, there was that one vacation your dad forced you to go on (it being his hometown), the one where you literally knew nobody and didn’t speak a word of the dialect, in some weird turn of event you found yourself pressing the call button next to his name. Long story short, there was a really awkward conversation about why you were calling him at five in the morning but he eventually cracked a joke that was so like him, that the conversation with him just flowed naturally afterwards.  

A call turned into two, and then before you knew it, despite on standing in the opposite sides of the world, a deeper friendship between the two of you grew. 

Phone calls between the two of you became a regular fixture of your day, something that you eventually looked forward to. Still keeping in contact with the same group of friends you and Tetsurou grew up with, sometimes it felt like you never left at all. You found out that he eventually left orchestra and instead devoted his time to the volleyball team in his highschool along with Kenma.  It seemed like a natural choice for him to leave. After all, you saw him often scowl at the orchestra teacher during breaks.

At seventeen, you had that feeling again. You felt the familiar flutter during every goodnight and good morning call Tetsurou slipped within your day. Snapshots within your day included a random selfie Tetsurou had sent you and various other text messages that updated you about his day. For almost three years, you saw him through a screen. You saw Tetsurou falling asleep while flipping through an algebra textbook, yelling with or at Kenma with a game controller, or just laying back in his bed tossing and catching a volleyball while you flipped through your own notes. The distance didn’t mean much to you because despite being thousands of miles apart, it felt like Tetsurou was right there.

Your favorite moments had to be the summer of your final year in highschool.

 It became a routine where Tetsurou, knowing that you completely trashed your sleeping schedule, you were more than awake at three in the morning for him to call. That summer he finally got his license and developed the habit of driving around with you, plastered on the screen of his phone, your voice blasted on the speaker instead of playing the music you knew he liked driving to.

 He’d stop by a convenience store to buy ice cream and eat it with you (having your own midnight snack) at a quiet parking lot some distance from the city. And the two of you would stay like that for hours. You’d muse about the three a.m. thoughts swimming around your head that night and he’d listen, with the occasional snarky comment (that became endearing to you over the years), and he’d talk about the three p.m. thoughts swimming in his.

And despite being on opposite sides of the world, you managed to watch the sun together. Though, the only difference was that as it rose on your corner of the world, he sat and watched it set in his.

“We’re watching the same sun, though,” he’d say, and in a way, it made the distance feel a little absent.

So your heart decided to beat again, during a Saturday evening that autumn: when you accepted the skype call at seven p.m. and waved a good morning to a sleepy Tetsurou. He replied with a good evening before settling back into his bed with a mug of coffee and his fleece blanket wrapped up to his head.

“If you were here we could have actually gone on a date instead of that shitty video call, you know.”

You looked at him, pouting into his mug of coffee, eyes still a little bleary from sleep and figure enveloped in a giant blanket. “I know.”

“I bet we’d look cute together, (y/n).”

You pressed your face into the heels of your hands and scrunched your nose towards the screen. “Tetsu, I would look cute. You’d look slightly cuter next to me.”

He scrunched his nose and retaliated with an equally snarky comment, but you didn’t mind. The same flutter in your stomach told you that you didn’t mind. The way your heart pounded a little faster as you looked at your best friend bathed in the morning light, hit the final nail in the coffin with the assurance that you absolutely did not mind.

-

The third came in scattered moments. 

For a while you had kept it as a secret for yourself, but eventually coming clean to Kenma one night as he drawled about how annoying Tetsurou had gotten over his new girlfriend. The blonde gave you a look through the screen before groaning, “My God, (y/n). I was rooting for you two.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate the girl. Next to Tetsurou, she seemed like sunshine and you could see it. In the way his smile tilted a little higher and the way his eyes shone when she spoke. He often replied to her with a voice as soft as hers, so you yielded. “He’s happy, Kenma.”

Kenma looked at you with a flat look, so you took his silence as his response. Huffing out an exhale and pushing the controller to the camera’s line of vision, you met Kenma’s stare. “Another round?”

The realization didn’t come as a completed that came to you at once.

Slowly, even as you told yourself that you were okay, and whatever this was is okay, you knew convincing yourself was another story. The dynamic between the two of you didn’t change, or at least on Tetsurou’s part he genuinely thought that it didn’t.

The mornings and evening calls were still constant even though the duration had become shorter. Gone were the nights you’d idly sit and watch Tetsurou fight sleep during homework. But it was fine. You knew she must have kept him awake enough to finish the worksheets.

Jealously was an ugly emotion, you thought. 

You knew it didn’t suit you, but you couldn’t help but feel it bubbling during that one Sunday night he’d rang you up at five thirty in the morning, because he knew you wouldn’t hesitate to answer (you didn’t), and waved a hello before flipping the camera and showing his girlfriend shyly waving at you from the passenger seat of his car.

Your throat tightened when you looked at the watch, then looked at the screen where he forgot to flip the screen, showing the setting sun’s light cast on the two.

You laughed out your excuse of needing to catch up on a little more sleep before you clicked your phone off and turned towards the window.

The sun had risen, and your heart may have clenched a little at the thought that he was watching the same sun set with someone who wasn’t you, but Tetsurou smiled in that special way with the twinkle in his eyes, so even as you watched the sky light up from the first peaks of the sun’s rays, you decided that because you loved him—you didn’t mind.

-

The next year continued like that.  The friendship stayed although the dynamic you two shared changed. As the year progressed, you took note of the dwindling calls, and hasty text messages. You didn’t bother to keep up with how their relationship deepened, but still had the heart to like every Instagram post either of them posted during anniversaries. You held on to the birthday messages or songs he randomly sent you and listened to the words that you sometimes imagined were what he meant for you. Once in a while the conversation would last longer than the occasional greetings and things felt like they clicked back into place again. But the next day, there never came the nostalgic good morning, or the sight of him with bleary eyes in the morning light, so you tucked that little piece of memory and listened to the same three songs you imagined were for you.

And because you loved him—for that time it was enough.

Before the autumn of the following year began, you found yourself seated on a twelve hour flight back to Tokyo where for the first time, in over seven years, you stood in front of him. Tetsurou was beaming, and you felt choked up.

Tetsurou’s hello was made known through a tight hug and a, “Glad you’re home.” So for that short while, you wrapped your arms around him and breathed the scent of his jacket, because for the first time in seven years, in a way he felt a little like home.

So as he sat across from you and said, “You would’ve loved her! She had to go somewhere that’s why she can’t come. But maybe you can meet another time!” you didn’t have it in you to let your smile crack and instead reached forward to clap him on the shoulder.

“Tetsu, you’re whipped.”

He laughed but nodded at your comment, but again, you took note of his happy smile so you let yourself try to mirror the emotion he held in his. And because you loved him, you thought of the tunes of the songs you imagined were for you and searched for the momentary peace in that.

-

That one time where you finally broke your silence was when he walked into your apartment with a chipped smile. 

Another two years had passed where you watched Tetsurou grow into a new identity. He still cracked the same jokes from years ago, that you remembered, but his change was first subtle with the way he liked his coffee made to the resolve hardening in his eyes, and to the ink that wrapped around his arms. But he still had moments that made him reach out to you, and in those times you’d catch him animated about the most mundane things in early sunlight— you allowed yourself to love him quietly in silence.

“I have beer,” he said as he shrugged off his coat and rolled his sleeves up. 

From your spot standing in the kitchen, you eyed the fresh ink on his arms. “New ink?”

Tetsurou placed the pack of beer in the middle of your table before taking a seat in the couch. He threw his head back and looked at you. “Yup. Got it earlier. Come sit,” he patted the empty space next to him with a little extra emphasis, “I really need a hug.”

Grabbing the bowl of chips from the counter, you made your way to where he was and sat at the empty space next to him. Automatically he slumped against your form and began picking at the chips.

Your hands patted the spikes in his hair and you leaned back, Tetsurou warm against your side.

“I feel like I’m dying,” he mumbled in your side.

“You’re not dying, Tetsu. Your heart just hurts.”

“I really love her,” his voice didn’t crack like you expected it to but his hand fisted the hem of your sweater a little tighter, so you sunk your hands into his hair and began smoothing out the wilder pieces. This had always distracted him, so you hoped it worked this time around.

You gestured for him to sit up and follow you as you grabbed a can of beer as you sat up. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

Tetsurou grumbled a little before grabbing his own can and following you to the balcony. You leaned against the railing, cracked the tab open and took a swig. Tetsurou joined you by the railings and clinked his beer against yours before taking his own sip.

Tokyo’s skyline looked beautiful in the night. You peered at the man standing next to you, his own can pressing against his lips. “What made you get a new tattoo?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know.”

He paused to sigh. “Just felt like it.”

“You know you’re a good person right?” you ask.

“I’m not as much of a saint as I wish I was.”

“None of us are saints.”

He tipped tipped the can back and gulped down the remainder of his beer. “Not many people have broken a person either.”

And after a little pause in silence, you reassured him, “You’re gonna be okay, Tetsu. In time.”

“I don’t think I’m in that mindset yet.”

“Yet.”

He looked at you and sighed again. You thought even with tired eyes he looked beautiful. “Yet,” he repeated back.

And somehow along that night, the hours stretched into a comfortable silence. 

This felt a little like déjà vu. With Tetsurou settled behind you, chin on top of your head as he enveloped your form in his, the both of you facing the east. Little specks of yellow lights began to dance around the sky.

Tetsurou’s voice broke through the silence as he said, “Have you ever loved someone?”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his warmth, already rehearsing the tunes of the song that brought you a false blanket of serenity over the years. “I have.”

“You did?” he asks, and his is tone sounded a little shocked, but you felt it in you that deep down he must have known, or suspected something even.

“Yeah. Eight years. I saw him in everything.”

“How,” his tone was a little more tentative his time, considering he was now dancing on unfamiliar territory, “how did you let go?”

“I haven’t yet.”

He stayed silent but he squeezed you a little tighter.

And then the two of you watched as the yellow of the sun finally broke through. 

Slowly, the morning light illuminated the outline of Tokyo. You truly felt like you were in some sort of déjà vu as you looked at Tetsurou, for the first time, bathing in the same light, from the same sun, where you fell in love with him all those years ago.

You thought back to when your friend had told you that experiencing déjà vu meant that it was the universe’s own way of telling you that you’re going down the right path. And looking up Tetsurou, who felt the warmth of the sun with his head tilted back and eyes fluttered close, you knew you were right where you’re supposed to be.

Which was why you traced the ink on the side of your wrist and in a steady voice spoke, “I love you.”

He stepped back and looked at you. “What?”

His expression looked a little confused and you smiled. Holding out your wrist to him, you spoke again, “I began to tell myself that every day.”

“I realized because he made up such a big part of my life, when he moved on I felt missing and stuck. Kind of like being in a loop.” You giggled and willed yourself to remember the meaning of déjà vu again before continuing, “So like, the times where he’d be gone, I just decided to replace them by telling myself that I love me. I told myself good morning, and goodnight, and kept snapshots of my day to remind myself that I’m living this life and moving forward.”

Tetsurou looked beautiful in the morning light. Confused, but still beautiful.

“I realized in those eight years, I lost so much of myself. And he looked so happy. His eyes were literally sparkling, Tetsu! I thought that shit only happened in anime. But that kind of love happened to him so I thought I deserved that too.”

“I got this tattoo a few weeks ago, see?” 

You turned your wrist to the side and watched as he traced over the inked bundle of baby’s breath. “I read somewhere that it meant everlasting love. I was in the middle of another sad girl hour moment so I thought why not give it to myself? It’s a start, right?”

Tetsurou’s lips quirked up at your words before he looked at you. “I’m proud of you.”

You looked back and met his gaze. It didn’t hold the same sparkle that it did for her but you didn’t mind. The feeling of déjà vu never went away so you inhaled a sharp breath. Tetsurou truly did look beautiful in the morning light, more so as he stands in front of you with a gentle look in his eyes. More than five of the eight years that you knew him had you spent dreaming about the morning like this where you’d stand with your hands in his own, eye to eye in the same side of the world looking at the same sun that lay witness to your growth.

You took him into his arms and buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He smelt as familiar as he felt. And the moment still feels like déjà vu you feel like you could cry. Your heart constricts in the way that kind of hurts but also kind of doesn’t, and you feel his hand rub circles on your back, so you speak, “You’ll find peace, Tetsu. We’ll get there.”

His cheek presses against the crown of your head as he murmurs, “In time.”

And in that moment you realize that even though you love him, first you tell yourself a silent ‘I love you’ , and then echo, “In time.”

-

proceed to part 2 here!

#haikyuucreations #haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst #hq angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader angst #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo imagines #kuroo scenarios #kuroo scenario #kuroo imagine #nekoma x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #hq scenario #hq scenarios #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsurou angst

[the-breath-in-air]

Fixing "Boy Erased" (2018)

I recently decided to watch Boy Erased (2018) again, now that we're a couple years out from its initial release (and hype). And I came away with some thoughts.

First, something I think worked. You know that scene near the end, when Jared (Lucas Hedges) is trying to leave the conversion camp and he's racing through corridors and whatnot. That whole sequence works, but there's one moment that really stands out.

Jared attempts to get his phone and Michael (one of the 'camp counselors') tries to physically wrestle it away from him. There's a bit of a fight but eventually Jared makes his way to the bathroom and he calls his mom to come take him away. He then emerges from the bathroom and says to Victor Sykes (who runs the camp), "If you, or anyone else puts their hands on me, I have witnesses." Victor puts up his hands and says, "Nobody's gonna put their hands on you. Why would anybody do that? Come and sit. We're gonna wait for your mom, okay?" Then there's a hard cut to this:

Victor Sykes and Brandon literally laying their hands on Jared and praying. And I love that juxtaposition because it brings to light the violence inherent in this situation. They're restraining him through enforced religious acts. There's violence in this prayer.

And on top of that, it serves as a pretty good metaphor for the whole film. Jared's parents (especially his mother) believe they're helping but really they're hurting. They can't see the violence of their actions in sending him to the camp.

If only the rest of the film was working on this level.

Problem the first: Audience as observer. The film is really about observing its subject, Jared, as he experiences these events. But it isn't about giving us any insight into his perspective or interiority as he does so. The camera is looking at Jared more often that it is revealing to us what he's seeing. Perhaps the most obvious example of this issue is with the perfume ad scene. Jared is on a run and he comes across a perfume ad on the side of a bus stop with a bare chested buff guy. The camera shows us the ad, and then the rest of the scene has the camera (and thus, the audience) placed some distance away as we see Jared first touch the ad, then throw a rock at the ad, and then scream "fuck you" at it repeatedly. The ad itself isn't salacious enough to illicit that kind of response in the average audience-goer, and the camera is so disconnected from Jared's experience that we aren't really gaining insight into why this ad is affecting him in such a strong way. It ends up making it so that scene really does not work.

This isn't to critique Lucas Hedges's performance in that scene. It's more to say that all the other elements of that scene make it feel ridiculous - because the audience has not been guided toward viewing that ad in the same way that Jared does in that moment.

The second problem: Casting. To be absolutely clear, this is not a knock against any of the actors performances. On the contrary, I think everyone was pretty dang exceptional. Rather, it's more a conversation about casting choices. Two of those choices really stand out as somewhat misguided: Xavier Dolan as Jon and Emily Hinkler as Lee.

Turns out Emily Hinkler is a nonbinary actress. Lee (the character) is a cis guy who is conspicuously unmasculine. (If you've seen the movie - he's the one who gets hit in the head with a baseball). Casting a nonbinary actress as a cis boy at a conversion camp feels a bit off on it's own in that a conversion camp would be forcing people to adhere to assigned genders at birth. But I could get behind it as a sort of statement, like, a casting decision as direct opposition to the enforced gender binary of a conversion camp. i.e. Why should the movie adhere to the oppressive gender binary that the camp would? However, by casting a nonbinary actress as the least conventionally masculine character - it actually feels like it ends up reinforcing the binary. Lee's defining trait is that he's small and unmanly and, afaik, he's the only one of the male characters who is not portrayed by a cis man.

My issue with Xavier Dolan's casting is much simpler: Jon feels like he was written as a teenager and Xavier Dolan was approaching 30 when this was filmed. Maybe it wouldn't have bugged me so much if I didn't already know who Xavier Dolan was when watching the movie? Like, maybe if you watch it without knowing the actor's age, it works better? But also, the character feels like a teen but isn't explicitly stated to be a teen. So whenever he was on screen I kept wondering if actually part of Jon's situation is meant to be that he is 30 but stuck in a sort-of adolescence due to his relationship with his abusive father. Or did they just cast Xavier Dolan to portray a teenager?

This brings me to the third problem: Not enough of the ensemble. Jared, and thus the audience, spends proportionally, little screen time with the other people at the camp. They are rarely shown talking to each other - especially outside the restrictive observation of the camp's 'counselors.' This could be part of the point - i.e. that the camp is so isolating - but that isolation wasn't really highlighted by the camera/scenes/dialogue...so it really feels more like it's just an oversight. The movie focuses on Jared and his individual story and so the rest just fell by the wayside.

This is really unfortunate because there are some (potentially) great characters in there, especially Jon and Gary. Jon went through the program once before and is now back for a second time. We don't know what happened to make him come back. He appears to be 30-ish but he's staying at a hotel with his abusive father. He is completely invested in the program and treats his sexuality like an addiction. He has even taken it upon himself to forego all physical contact with other men (not even a handshake). His self-loathing is at once horrifying and heartbreaking.

In contrast, Gary (Troye Sivan) knows the entire program is bullshit, but he's playing along for his own survival. He's over 18; he lived with his boyfriend for a year prior to coming to the camp. So that begs the question of how his family convinced him to enter to the program. Also, Gary's so invested in his own survival, that he stays silent and is complacent in the abuse and violence he witnesses against others in the camp. He is both a victim and a bystander (at times).

I think this film would've really benefited from spending more time with these characters (as well as Sarah, portrayed by Jesse LaTourette, and Cameron, portrayed by Britton Sear) in the camp and seeing how they all interacted with each other. Give us a sense of their different contexts and perspectives - and give us a better sense of the ways that conversion camps disempower the people sent there (even people like Gary, who knows it's bullshit). It's the thing that makes all the other movies about conversion camps work so well.

Which brings us to the fourth problem: the ending. If we spend more time with the ensemble, we'd either end up with a really long movie or we'd have to cut out something else. Well, folks, we can cut about 10 minutes off the end. Everything after the dinner Jared has with his mother post-escape can go. The climax of the film is when Jared finally decides to leave the camp. The resolution comes when his mother places herself in opposition to Jared's father (which she had never done before) and decides that she's going to take Jared home. And the emotional resolution comes when she admits to Jared that they made a mistake and that they harmed him by sending him to the camp.

Everything after that is extraneous. We don't really need to see Jared living in a city with a boyfriend, or see him begin to reconcile with his father. His relationship with his father was never the emotional core for the film. Boy Erased is, in some ways, a movie about self-actualization and that's the sort of movie that's best to end with something a bit open-ended. Y'know...a sort of end-that's-just-the-beginning kind of thing. Because the story of Jared falling in love and dating and moving out and gaining the self-confidence to confront his father - well that's a whole other movie. And here it gets shoved into the epilogue, which does the whole thing a real disservice.

Then there are the informational cards at the end. Two stick out as being particularly frustrating. One, "The real Victor Sykes left L.I.A. in 2008. He now lives in Texas, with his husband," feels irrelevant and unnecessary. The audience cares about what happened to Gerrard Conley (who wrote the story and whom Jared is based off of). But why do we care about what happened to the real guy who ran the camp? We don't...except for the jab about him now being married to a man - which feels like it's a more significant point for the cis straight people in the audience than for anyone queer. Turns-out-ex-gay-pastor-was-actually-just-gay-the-whole-time is not revelatory, I gotta say.

Then there's also this:

The emphasis about conversion therapy "practiced on minors," feels a bit disconnected from the film we just watched - which emphasized how abusive and traumatizing it is, even for adults. And in the U.S., all states currently legally allow conversion therapy for anyone 18+. Only Washington D.C. has banned it. And that, to me, is equally egregious, yet it isn't mentioned. The film itself challenges the notion that it's somehow okay for this to be practiced on adults because it's ostensibly their "choice," and then the info cards at the end shy away from that stance by focusing on kids.

I think the thing I find most frustrating about this movie, is the wasted potential. As I said at the beginning of this, there are some moments that really stand out in how they use the medium to convey meaning. There are some choices in how the film uses light and brightness (or lack thereof), that are pretty dang good, too. But ultimately, it's a film I feel so detached from and I think some of what I explained above is part of why.

#boy erased #lucas hedges #xavier dolan #emily hinkler #troye sivan #joel edgerton #nicole kidman #jesse latourette #britton sear

[timextoxhajima]

GEN Z SERIES, CHANG MIN: Invisible Blindfolds

“I want her dead.”

Member: Changmin

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Word Count: 5.2k words

Taglist:  @lovely-kpop-writer​​ @yn-am-pm @fleurseoul​ @sunwoowuvbot​ @mystaydeobi​ @fullsunsays​ @glcwing0​

The corners of your eyes well up with tears, and you swore you’d get a tummy ache the next morning from laughing all too hard. 

“Spin the damn thing again! I’m not going into the closet with him!” Chanhee nearly screams his head off, getting onto his feet just as the soju bottle stops, pointing dead straight at him. 

Ji Changmin gets up from beside you, and steps across the carpet, hands outstretched towards his classmate.

“No, fuck off!” 

The laughter in your abdomen forces you to double over, nearly spilling the cup of Coke mixed with Whiskey in your hand. 

Kevin and Eric get to their feet in a bid to force Chanhee along with the game, and you lean over on your best friend, watching your boyfriend turn back and grin at you as he followed his screaming friend into the closet. 

“The things I’d do to have what you have with him,” Your friend almost shouts, trying to beat the rest of the crowd in the room.

Exams had just ended and you had been cordially invited to an end-of-year party at Kevin’s place as Changmin’s girlfriend. 

“Mm,” A hum commands you to take a sip from your cup, just as Eric and Kevin lean on the closet door from the outside, and Chanhee’s screaming only tickles your funny bone even more. 

The alcohol burns your chest, but it was for a good cause; you were having fun. 

“You say that as if you don’t have just about the greatest thing with Kevin.”

The sparkle in your friend’s eyes would’ve gone unnoticed had you blinked, and you can’t help but to snuggle in further into her neck, resting your head on her shoulder while you revel in the atmosphere of the party. 

Chanhee literally crawls out of the closet once the phone’s timer goes off. Changmin walks out with his mouth covered and wide eyes while Chanhee hurls strings of vulgarities at him, back to the floor like he had just been abused.

“Oh my God, what did you do?” The view stuns you, and Changmin naturally struts over to you, his free hand dangling by the side of his thigh calling out for you to hold it.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Liar--” Chanhee’s eyes are so wide open, his blue contacts might’ve popped out. “He tried to kiss me!”

And the crowd bursts into laughter, including you. 

“Why are you laughing?” Chanhee throws a tissue ball at you, getting to his feet and returning to his spot on the carpeted living room floor. “Control your man.”

“He’s well controlled,” You come down from your high, and pull on Changmin’s hand so he’d sit down. “It’s not my fault he likes you more than he likes me.”

Some in the circle snort, and Changmin pulls you into a headlock, ruffling your hair like you didn’t put effort into styling it before coming. 

And so, the moon hangs itself for all eternity in the dark sky when you leave Kevin’s home, your friend by his side and the group of boys behind you howling and screaming as if they didn’t have to worry about being a public nuisance. 

“Goodnight, Kevin!” You call out over your shoulder, and the others follow suit. 

The door shuts with two smiles behind, but you turn to watch Chanhee and Changmin struggle a little to support the little ball of sunshine who had too much to drink.

“I can go home on my own, you guys need to take care of him.”

Changmin looks up upon your suggestion, watching as you shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. 

“What? No.”

Chanhee grunts as Eric nearly slides off, mumbling something about the cat on the other side of the road. 

“I’m not going to be able to bring him back home alone.”

Changmin’s eyes flit between you and his friends, his expression dulling when he realises he doesn’t really have much of a choice.

“Come with us? I don’t want you walking home alone.”

A yawn crawls up your respiratory system, and the remnants of the alcohol gets seeped into your blood as you shake your head.

“I’m fine,” You shrug lightly. “I can take care of myself, but Eric obviously can’t.”

“Your girlfriend’s right,” Chanhee grunts when Eric suddenly does a little skip on a floor, despite his right arm being hooked around Chanhee’s neck. “Eric’s going to spend the night on some pavement if we don’t get him home.”

Changmin looks a tad bit upset with your refusal to walk with them, but he knows he’ll be wasting his breath trying to convince you to go along.

“Okay,” He leans over and pecks you on your forehead. “Be careful, and text me once you get home, okay? Don’t wait up, we’ll probably be awhile.”

The tone in his voice is heavy, and for a moment you worry that he might be more than upset that you were stubborn and rock-headed. 

But Eric starts trying to braid Chanhee’s hair, leaving Changmin no choice but to help untangle his hair from Eric’s fingers. 

You watch for awhile until they disappear around the block, Changmin turning and giving you one last glance before they are out of sight.

The walk home is quiet, apart from the cricket chirping and the occasional car that drives down the road.

You can’t help but to wonder if Changmin really was pissed off with your stubbornness. The stars in the dark sky glimmer down at you, and if you tried hard enough, you could almost see Andromeda, or Mars -- well, it was either or, since both had a shade of red to them if you were to see them in the sky.

The ink sky collects you into its silence and peace, leaving you to wander through the fields of thought in your head before the sun was to rise again. 

A honk outside your house jolts you awake, and your eyes immediately squint away from the bright sun flooding the four walls of your room. 

It is a surprise to realise your phone is a lack of messages -- or replies -- from Changmin when you roll over and fetch the device from your night stand. 

The house was empty, so you could only guess your parents had brought your brother out to buy some of that sports equipment he’s always been wanting to get. 

By nature, you call Changmin, but it meets the dial tone. More messages swarm your chat, but they go undelivered.

WiFi seemed to work but why aren’t they getting through?

A slight headache starts to knock on the inner shell of your skull, and you realise a small cut on your thigh.

Must’ve been Kevin’s house. Wooden floor boards and their splinters.

You forgot to charge your phone before you passed out last night, so it’s a frustrating dead-end when your phone’s battery drains out within the next few minutes.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve been at a social event with Changmin, so being his girlfriend has taught you that he had a habit of sleeping in the next morning after a drinking session. It doesn’t really bother you that you might only come into contact with him when you’re back in school.

Yet the universe thinks it’s fun to pull a prank on you -- for not only is Changmin’s shadow almost out of sight; nobody speaks to you. 

The confusion was overwhelming, nibbling away at your consciousness and your social awareness. Not only did Changmin and his friends seemingly disappear off the face of Earth, so did yours. 

Their seats remain empty for a day, and some don’t even return after the second, including Changmin.

You take the opportunity to run the question through your friend, two of the three who was back in school and the last one gone from your radar as well. 

The cafeteria is bustling as usual, though not as noisy because none of the noisier boys in Changmin’s group of friends were around.

“Do you know what happened to Changmin? And where were you the last two days?” You rest your arms on the table before you, for the lack of appetite from the mistreatment of your boyfriend begins to haunt you like a living nightmare.

“Are you alright? If you need to speak to any of us, we’re always here for you.”

“What?” Your brows furrow and your head cocks to the side. An alarm goes off in your head because that is a strange reply. “What are you--”

“Talk to us, we’re your support. We don’t want you dead in a ditch somewhere, okay?”

“Uh-- sure... I just--”

“Good,” A pause as she returns to her potato salad. “Let me clear this before we head back to class, we have shit to catch up on.”

Baffling.

The next day greets you like the devil’s smile the first time you see it in Hell, for Changmin walks right past you without even looking at you but instead exchanging knowing, suspicious glances at your friend -- the one who assured you her comfort and support just the day before. 

Changmin looked terrible; his smile was gone and the eyebags under his eyes were unmistakably caused by a lack of sleep. The red rings around his eyes are glaring, like he had been a fight and this was the aftermath.

Maybe you should start losing sleep over this too, but everytime your back hits the mattress at home, you knock out and wake up the next morning with a shitty ache in your neck. 

Changmin doesn’t enter your field of vision for the rest of the day, for you have no classes with him besides the chemistry classes on fridays. 

The stinging, wearing pain in your neck draws you to the bed once you reach home, and it feels all too lethargic, like a fever dream. 

The days pass so quickly, so fleetingly, and you weren’t sure if you were just too cooped up in your room studying or sleeping that you haven’t really gotten the time to talk to your family members either. 

They’ll understand. 

But I definitely don’t understand Changmin.

There is something wrong, but he feels so far away, uncontactable.

All those messages and calls to him but nothing. He doesn’t pick up, he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even look at me in school.

The tears well in your eyes when you struggle to hold yourself together.

How did such a pretty fairytale become a living nightmare?

A phone in the house rings, and the anxiety in her voice thrums through the walls of the house. You wonder for a moment how it was able to wake you -- when your mother finds extreme difficulty in even waking you up on a normal day -- but you peel yourself off the bed anyway and walk out the room, feet snuggled into the thick carpet of the floor. 

It doesn’t take too long for you to realise your mother’s been on the phone for an extended period of time now, and it calls you down the steps of your home into the living room.

The phone is on an extremely high volume; your father has had hearing problems for the longest time so the rest of you simply endure the sometimes-painful levels of pitch whenever someone calls. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you--” 

“No, wait, plea--”

And the phone is almost slammed back into the set with a plastic clack. Your mother doesn’t see you because you’ve stopped yourself at the top of the stairs, bending over to watch the situation unravel under the roof of the first floor.

Ji Changmin is a phenomenon on his own, impeccable. There was absolutely nothing about him you hated, until he treated you like you were invisible.

Then your mother buries her face in her hands, looks up at the top of the stairs and spots you, but she doesn’t look you in the eye; she knows you’re standing there. 

Someone must’ve told her Changmin and I are no longer together, but for what reason, even I don’t know. 

The weekend roles around, and the strangest thing happens in the midst of you sobbing your heart out over losing him to a force even you cannot see. 

Why would he show up at your place with a shovel and a rose?

You watch from the window in your room as your older brother and father try to pry Changmin away from the hole he’s dug on your front yard from the window. 

Quite a sight to behold, honestly. But at what cost? Who was hurting more in the relationship? Why is he here when he hasn’t responded to my calls?

The man tried to plant the rose (still in a pot with a soil-base and all), but fragility gets the better of the fickle thing and its petals dribble off throughout all the chaos. 

Changmin literally gets yanked away into the family car, and if you blinked, you would’ve missed the way Changmin looked up at the window with such yearning, it might’ve been excruciating to digest.

There was almost no way you could decide when it all happened. 

Why did Changmin suddenly stop talking to you? 

Why did he stop seeing you? 

Why did he stop loving you?

The curtains draw back before your nose, your mother closing them for you, though she doesn’t say a word. Her back is turned and she shuts the door of your room behind her, the soft thud a signal to you that maybe it was time to close your eyes and let abyss of dreams claim you again.

Maybe this time -- finally -- you’ll forget you ever loved him. 

Then again, it’s not easy to pretend like you hadn’t once had your hands all over him. It’s not easy to pretend like you didn’t just sit and watch the love of your life perform favourite song before an audience, despite the lyrics being heartbreaking... but watching him dance was like watching the waves crash against the shore, the trees hiding the sunshine from the skies.

It’s not easy to pretend that Changmin didn’t actually make the song your reality. 

The cotton of your bedsheet sucks you into its comfort, albeit the memories still running in your head like a broken record.

It was just weeks ago that the dance crew you were in had finished the showcase, the same one that Changmin had performed Maniac in the gym, that Changmin sent you home.

The crickets on out on your lawn were chirping and halted the moment the both of you were walking along the path up to your porch. The night temperature was colder than comfortable, so Changmin has his windbreaker wrapped around your shoulders, and his left hand interlocked with yours, stuffed into the right pocket.

You remember clearly: he smelled like a disgusting mix of deodorant and his body wash, and you could smell his cologne on his windbreaker. 

Strangely comforting, however gross that sounded. 

And so, it is sweet like hot chocolate in winter and his jacket around your shoulders when he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Your eyes travel up to his. Those large, round, doe eyes that you fell for after almost a year of being friends. He isn’t that short, so you can’t help the smile when you remember all the teasing he suffers when he’s with his friends.

“Goodnight.”

God, those dimples. 

“Goodnight.” 

The memory of that night swallows you whole like you were a druggies’ pills, and the night collects you the way the grim reaper would -- or should -- collect your already dissipating soul. 

I wonder why he’s crawling back now?

The hallways of school haunt you like Hell the next day; is this my Hell?

It might be, especially if Changmin walks by you, on his phone, and does not see you. He is distant, walking at the back of the group with his friends, and you at the back of yours. 

Everybody looks gloomy; did something happen that you didn’t know about?

Maybe that was why Changmin stopped treating you like you existed.

You claim your seat as per normal in class at the back with your friend, and the other two infront of you. Changmin is seated diagonally to the right before you, and you can tell he starts to drift off to sleep. 

Wait-- I only have one class with him on Fridays--

You realise he’s wearing the same pair of pants he wore to your place the night before, when he tried to plant that rose in your front yard. 

There was a patch of rubbed-in soil into the side of his thigh.

It truly is detrimental to your spirit, when you cannot piece together the information. 

Then the lyrics of the performance he pulled off perfectly comes back to stick themselves in the crevices of your brain like a parasite. 

You were with your friends, partying

When the alcohol kicked in

Said you wanted me dead

The pinch forces you to look away, the sound of his voice saying those words driving merciless needles into your skin, making your hair stand. 

“I want her dead.”

His voice rings in your head, though you have no physical memory of him saying that. When did he say this? Over the phone? To someone else? 

Why do you remember his voice saying these words but you don’t even remember seeing it for yourself?

The teacher’s voice is literally drowned out by all the other little clicks and clacks you can hear in the classroom. 

The clock ticking, people clicking their pens, tapping their feet on the floor. The scribbling. 

So, you shut your eyes, and the school bell violently wakes you up from your never-ending nightmare. 

Everybody is on their feet, heading towards the front of the classroom to get some worksheet from the teacher and one of your friends take one copy for you. 

She’s busy looking at the worksheet for herself, so she candidly slides yours under your desk, and seems to miss your little “thank you”.

Your friends forget about you -- which is a normal occurrence, because they know you like to stay behind after Chemistry to leave with Changmin. 

But all three of your friends spare Changmin a look of pity, almost pain and misfortune before they leave the classroom. 

The room is bare besides you sitting in the back and Changmin sitting in his seat, never really moving a single muscle until he slides everything into his bag and stands up. 

It is so quiet, you can hear him breathing. 

His laboured breath tells you there is something wrong, and if he wasn’t going to talk to you about it, then maybe you should find out for yourself. 

It takes a surprisingly minimum amount of effort to follow Changmin out of school and to the bus stop and the train station, because he doesn’t stop once -- he is rushing somewhere, steps larger than he normally would walk with and his hood over his hair, almost hiding his eyes. 

I wish I never loved you, Ji Changmin. You love me with all your heart with mine sitting in the heart of your palms only for you to crush it the very next day, and forget that I ever exist. 

Changmin alights at a station he doesn’t usually alight at, the situation starting to make it even more mind-boggling for you.

Just who or what was it that tore you away from me? We had everything, and the way your eyes twinkled when you looked at me made me feel like I was the only thing you ever needed. 

Then, Changmin gets on a bus, shoving his hands into his pockets. The sun was setting so the sky was turning into a gentle blue from orange.

So, was I? Was I the only thing you ever needed or did you realise that you were wrong, and that you could do without me? That you could be better off with someone else?

The bus stops, and Changmin alights. 

But what greets you is the daunting architecture of a building almost as high as apartment buildings.

It was a hospital.

Something dawns on you, but anger and confusion is not a good mix of emotions when your boyfriend suddenly stops acknowledging your existence without an explanation. 

What if it was your mother? Your father? No, you would’ve told me, wouldn’t you, Changmin? Or was it another girl whom your eyes laid on, and your heart decided her hands were softer, warmer for it to snuggle into, sing melodies into her skin and press loving songs onto her lips?

I wish you were dead, Changmin.

I wish--

“I’m here, y/n.”

It crushes your spirit when you hear the name ring in the halls of the hospital, or maybe it was just in your head. Changmin had entered a ward, but you haven’t seen what was in it.

The sudden nausea in your gut starts to grumble through your system, and your heart rushes like manic in the cages of your chest. 

“How are you today? You look better.”

If I looked hard enough, maybe I could see Andromeda or Mars--

Until bright, white lights blind you.

And your neck feels like there is a harsh squeeze around your spine on the inside, and you groan in pain to yourself, the movement shifting you forwards, just enough to provide you a view of the patient in the ward Changmin was sitting by. 

It feels almost aggressive, or violent, the way the truth of reality slaps you across the face, possibly breaking your neck and a few bones in the process.

But that was not possible, because you were looking at yourself lying in the hospital bed, motionless. 

Cast around your neck and stitches across your face, left hand in cast and one of your legs held up by a support, the physical pain starts to spread through your body just as the information clicks together. 

“I want her dead.” Changmin’s face is tear stained and he is drunk from the sorrows he ironically tried to drink away. Distant, hazy memory reminds you that he is distraught over your accident, for the doctor cannot promise a hundred percent survival rate, not after it’s nearly severed your spine, fractured about a dozen bones in your body and broken your leg.

“You know you don’t mean that.” The calming voice of your voice, though hoarse and also slightly strained, tries in vain to soothe the poison in his heart. 

“If she is in so much pain then I rather her--”

“Shut-- the fuck up!” Then she hurls her glass across the living room, and Kevin rushes to hold her back. She breaks down in his arms, and Kevin looks to Changmin with agony in his eyes. 

He knows Changmin is feeling worse, if not the worst in the room. 

“Are you alright? If you need to speak to any of us, we’re always here for you.”  The memory plays out in your head, leaving a horrid, bitter taste on your tongue. 

She was talking to the other friend at the table, and you weren’t there. 

Your room had been empty the day you were in the accident -- almost three weeks ago. 

The rose sitting in the pitiful pile of soil in your backyard gets surgically removed and then re-installed into the grass by your older brother, because he knows why Changmin left it there. 

Both of them are afraid they are going to lose you, but it’s not in their control to decide what the Grim Reaper decides to do. 

The soft beeping of the heart monitor is a stab to the chest when you realise it was your own heartbeat you were listening to. You slowly walk around the bed and sit in the chair on the other side, directly opposite Changmin with your lifeless body between the two of you. 

You are barely recognisable, but Changmin still looks at you with that twinkle in his eyes, though now shrouded with the tears coating them. 

Guilt finds you in places you never knew was possible, when you realise you had just played Changmin off as an unfaithful, unreasonable partner. 

All he had been was just the opposite. 

The tears fall from Changmin’s eyes, and God, how much do you want to reach over and wipe his tears off his face and tell him you’re still alive, and you’re still fighting. 

He gulps, not doing much to salvage his need to be strong for himself, or for you, and presses one hand into the back of his neck, over the material of his hood. Your right hand, with the index finger clipped with the pulse oximeter, held in his free hand, as he lowers his head in despair.

You don’t know how you’re feeling it, but maybe because the entity you are right now is your soul itself. So the pain is intrinsically sharp in your heart when you watch him crumble, and you cannot do anything about it. 

He sniffles and brushes away the tears streaming down his face, dampening the ends of his sleeves when he looks up at your scarred, wounded face. 

“I’m gonna hope you can hear me, because I don’t think I can say this again...” His finger is trembling when he reaches up and brushes away the hair by your eyes. “If you need to go, if you’re really in pain--”

The hiccups stop him, and you find yourself cracking into sobs, shaking your head when you know what he’s about to say.

“--if you’re really in pain, then go. I don’t want you to stay if all you’re feeling is pain--” 

His teeth are gritted, and you can see the strain in his neck when he hides his eyes with his palm, free hand still holding onto your limp fingers.

No, I don’t want to go if it means you’re hurting.

“I just... I know your family will hate me for saying this but I just need to know that you’re not in pain--”

No, this pain is nothing compared to if I don’t have you. 

“But if you’re somewhere in there, and if you’re fighting, I hope you know I’ll be here to wait for you to come back to me, no matter how long it takes.”

No, no, no, no, this was not how I planned my life to end--

“I love you so much... and I’m sorry I didn’t say it more. I’m sorry that you don’t feel it sometimes, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way, I just--”

He takes a deep breath and strokes your cheek. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The tears are ruthless yet intangible. They fall as tears from your face but disappear into nothingness just before they reach the floor. You try to wipe them from your face with your sleeve but they leave no marks. 

“No... no!” You know the screams can’t be heard by anybody but yourself, and you try to pick up the chair to hurl it across the room but you can’t shift it an inch. You try to kick the bed, but the mattress sheet doesn’t even crease.

“No! Changmin, I’m still here! I’m not in pain and I don’t want to go-- Please...”

Your knees meet the floor of the ward, your hands gripping onto the sides of the hospital bed as you listen to Changmin offer your body sobs and hiccups. 

The rough material of the bed makes you feel the texture, but it doesn’t leave any marks. 

You hear some shuffling and you look up with tired eyes, the pain in your neck calling you back into that lethargic ambience that you now reocgnise. The nightly “sleep” you’ve been getting is just your soul being pulled back into the reality you’ve been so used to, leaving your body here to rot and remain in its useless trance. 

The pain starts to ring a pitch in your ear, and you wince as you stand, watching Changmin stand and rub his eyes.

“No, no, stop!” The pitch gets higher, and the pain spreads a strange need to pass out throughout your body. 

How long are you going to be stuck in his vicious, torturous cycle?

You claw and scratch at the spot of pain causing the ringing in your ears on the back of your neck as Changmin leans forward and presses a gentle kiss into your forehead, lingering there longer than you expected him to. 

The ringing reaches a pitch in your skull that has you covering your ears and cowering to the floor, and just before you black out, you read Changmin’s lips as he whispers to you. 

Please don’t leave me.

The ring cracks something in your neck and you pass out completely, feeling your weight thump to the floor.

“What would you do if I got into an accident?” 

“What?” You frown and look over to Changmin, who’s got his arm under his neck and his eyes looking down at you. “Why would you ever ask that?”

He smiles, the neon stars pasted on your room ceiling still darker than the ones in his eyes. 

“I don’t know, just wanted to know.”

“Hm,” You pull the blanket up to your neck and turn to your side to better face him, rolling the metal ends of his hoodie’s string between your thumb and index finger. “I don’t know. What are the given circumstances?”

“You need given circumstances?”

You laugh, and his eyes are widened with amusement.

“Well, yeah. Like, if the doctors were to tell me you’re dead then there really isn’t much I can do, can I?”

A gasp from him tickles your funny bone again, and you push his chest, shoving him off balance. Changmin repositions himself now, pulling the blanket over himself and tucking his arm under your neck, so that you were resting against his chest and hoodie and his scent intoxicating you in every sweet way possible.

“Okay, what if I become brain dead or something?”

“So, like... alive but you’re never gonna wake up?”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes travel to the ceiling, the stars pasted mapped out according to your starsigns. 

“Do I have the choice of pulling the plug?”

“Mhm, you either pull the plug and get me off life support or you don’t and keep my body around but I’d never wake up.”

“I’d pull your life support.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I don’t want you to be stuck in a body you can’t do anything with. You love to dance and play sports-- I can’t imagine you being stuck in a body that doesn’t allow you to do that.”

Silence.

“You okay? Or did I say something wrong?” 

“Nah,” He shakes his head when you look up to him. “It’s just-- I’m glad you said that. You know me well enough to know that’s what I’d want you to do.”

“And here I was worried you’d want to spend the rest of your life stuck in a body that’s dead.”

“Nah, I’d rather spend the rest of my life with you, and if there’s no you, then there’s no point living.”

So, your eyes shoot wide open like waking up from a dream, but the ceiling is white and your body is being hugged with a thick, uncomfortable material you can’t recognise.

But Changmin’s voice comforts you, and when the tears from his eyes sting the wounds on your face, you don’t mind the extra pain when yours seep into the cuts and wounds too. 

#timetohajima #changmin #the boyz #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #q #changmin fanfic #changmin imagine #the boyz gen z #timetohajima gen z

[darkpoisonouslove]

Riven x Musa

Ok, so I keep seeing posts everywhere that basically badmouth S8 and after seeing ten seconds of the trailer (YIKES to the animation, what’s wrong with the industry that they are making everything anime? Powerpuff Gen Z, I’m looking at you – obs: I didn’t watch it fully yet) I can see where some of the criticism is coming from but anyways…

My favorite Winx!couple EVER has always been Musa x Riven since I was kid and first watched the show (Netflix is not helping ‘cause I ship them even there).

I remember yawning at Bloom/Sky, rolling my eyes at Stella/Brandom and making a completely incredulous expression that I could literally feel forming on my face at Helia/Flora (can anyone say ‘unrealistic’?). Timmy/Tecna are a second favorite.

And why my Winx OTP are Riven x Musa followed after Timmy x Tecna? Because it reflects real life. In real life you’re not gonna stumble into people whose real and deep relationship problems are solved in twenty four minutes (not even that considering that some episodes present the “problem” half-way through said 24 minute-episode).

The breakup between Riven and Musa in S6 (spoilers everywhere after all) was one of the most mature breakups in the history of breakups with the hope for the future (yes, I’m completely ignoring S7, sue me, the whole thing was one huge filler anyways). And, after reading a lot of opinions on both ends (defending Musa/attacking Riven and defending Riven/attacking Musa) and watching the episodes in question (reuniting through reconciling) I think I can give my own analysis.

Since Musa AND Riven (individually and as couple) are my favorite characters in Winx, I think I CAN give a fairly unbiased view (hopefully).

*clears throat*

Ok, keep in mind that I’m defending BOTH of them, because I ship them too hard not to.

Musa Being OC (sometimes being called ‘brat’): C'mon, people! Musa and Tecna are OC since S4 anyways, where are the tomboy and the nerd? With the sneakers, T-shirt and comfortable-looking clothes? Noooo, now they all need neat skirts and hot pink high heels and long, glamorous hair. Do they look good? Of course, but and I would totally be less pissed if there was ANY indication on the reason for the change. Are they just maturing? Expressing themselves differently? Crowd mentality? Tune and Stella finally broke Musa down and Tecna followed soon after? Was it just to please Riven and Timmy? ANYTHING (even the 'pleasing a boy’ would at least be A reason - a ridiculous one that would piss me off, but A reason none the less), was just a sudden impulse that took?

Sure, we can talk about “character growth” until we are blue in the face, but the matter of the fact is that there was none.

The changes we see in Musa and Tecna are basically the creators making them more like the rest of the Winx (I’m including Aisha in this too, where is the sporty girl that matched the boy’s interest in extreme sports? C'mon! Even Bloom and her Girl Next Door looks are replaced with Bratz and Clueless-level of outfits).

Is anyone really going to look me in the eye and say Stella wasn’t a shallow (if friendly and good-natured) Mean Girl? She got better, but as I re-watch the show (currently in S3, meaning almost half-way through the content), Stella still worries more about her hair than anything else even while under literal fire.

More and more, Musa, Tecna and Aisha are losing their identities and what made them, IMO, the more badass Winx.

How did the two on the left went from this…

… to this:

Yeah, yeah, Musa still sings, Tecna still technobabble and Aisha is still a Warrior Princess but Aisha was the first one to go Bloom and Stella on us with Musa and then Tecna following soon after. It’s not just their clothing style, it’s the way they carried themselves too.

Right now? The only thing keeping them apart is their BF blues (different kind of blues) and some personal interests (singing, shopping, tech, the whole drama with Domino/Sparks, etc). But that’s IT, their personalities are going down the drain!

Sorry for the long-winded text, but the reason I’m expressing my disappointment at their change is because Musa’s reaction fits it. S6 we have such an AMAZING breakup (didn’t even think that was possible, WTH, right? Amazing breakup?) only for her to be mad as hell at Riven at S8? Bad writing, that has been dragging her (and the rest of the Winx) down to becoming just one unilateral, shallow character (the Specialists are also falling into that pit, what in the world did they do Helia in S8? He sounds like Thor telling about his “brave exploits” there, yikes). And continuity what? What continuity? Do they even remember how the breakup was written?

But ok, let’s put the Audience View aside for a moment and focus only on the In-Universe terms.

S6: You’ll always be my hero.

S8: What on EARTH are you doing here. 

I laughed a bit, the contrast just got to me but instead of getting mad at one or the other like most of the fandom, I laughed.

Musa followed that by saying that Riven has not maintained contact and just in that I would be beyond pissed as well and giving my support to Musa. WTH, Riven? I think that each season is more less six months to a year? Sort of? Still, zero contact for so long even after ending on amicable terms and wanting to stay friends? And he went off on his own! A text now going, “I’m not dead” would be the bare basics for Musa not to worry herself bald!

BUT then I also read comments about how this was a two-way street, why didn’t Musa call either? That’s unfortunately something that I very much doubt will ever be explained. One of those: did it or didn’t it? Musa could have called and went straight to voicemail with no signs of life from Riven or she might not have called and just expected him to call as if feminism were dead and all initiative must come from the guy (which doesn’t even fit because they parted as friends).

Since we have no info on the above, I put it on both of them. It’s not fair to say, “HE should have called!” or “Why didn’t SHE call?” because we don’t have fricking context. So the only thing we can take is: no contact.

BECAUSE I put the lack of contact on both of them, Musa’s reaction was a little too much, however, Riven shows up all smirks and leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and I would have flashbacks to S1 if it wasn’t for the animation style that made all the guys look like girls. Dude! Not the time for that kind of posture. Not saying that he should be all sheepish and rubbing his arm as if he had done something horrible (again: we don’t have context on the no contact) but a more neutral approach was warranted here. Nobody does themselves any favors with that kind of attitude no matter what how high of a horse they may be (rightly or not) riding on, if anything I would react like Musa solely on that one.

Next episode we have that Riven convinced the guys to follow the girls in some mission and Musa was angry. Again: I would be too. WTH? Yes, yes, they helped and if it wasn’t for them, the Winx would gotten seriously injured but Musa did have a point saying that this demonstrated that they had no trust in them and need their hand held, it was no sanctioned mission like on Earth after all. BUT, Riven does something that I would never expect from in S1-4: he explains, he reasons it, he puts it in all the words that he does trust Musa and co and that he only wanted to show that he’d be there for her (you know? One of the main issues in S6 that made them breakup in the first place? His inability to conciliate Specialist work with supporting his girlfriend and ultimately failing or feeling like failing in both?) and Musa still pouts, crosses her arms, and turns around. Geez. I expected that one from Stella, not Musa. I think the closest Musa has ever come to THIS was back in S2 when Jared explains that Riven was the one to recommend that he interview Musa and yada yada yada and she got mad and stomped off on the poor guy that didn’t even understand what was going on (only to immediately apologize to Jared and recognizing that it wasn’t him that she was mad at… like I said: what character growth?).

Riven then goes to show that he indeed grew when he asked for advice from Sky and Brandon (WTH, right? Can we picture that happening back in S1-3? He very grudgingly would LISTEN to UNSOLICITED advice from Nabu and Helia in S4-6). And does a very, very goofy and embarrassing show of affection. Yeah… again… I can picture Stella loving the light show with her face for IDK how many people to see but not Musa (although can we really blame the guy after the series went out of its way to make Musa all Stella-like? Clothes, attitude, the only thing missing is making Riven carry her shopping bags around and call him “Shnookums” (although the mental image is already enough for me to fall over laughing, just for the face Riven would make). Still, I have to count that one against Riven if only because (as much as the show gives only lip service to it) Musa isn’t Stella.

Riven being mind controlled (again) aside, those two are back together. And on the overall? Riven showed more growth than any other character in the show COMBINED (he is the Zuko of the show), that doesn’t go to say that he didn’t make mistakes since coming back in S8 (but that was more a guy trying to win back a girl than… betraying his friends for a pair of nice legs or… IDEK like in S1 – where, mind control or not the show itself made sure to make it clear that he had free will) or that he is now the one out of Musa’s league. I think that NOW it can actually work… if the show allows him to keep the progress, Musa is the next to see her flaws and work on them (which she showed to be able to do since S2) and put effort in the relationship. The difference between them is that Musa can actually work on herself and the relationship at the same time. That’s not me saying she is better than Riven in any way, everybody has their own pace and their own way to cope, to improve and to self-reflect.

I still root for them.

~*~

PS-IDK why, but I read posts about how Riven changed so much and posts about how all his progress disappeared and he is now back to his S1 attitude and I’m just cofused. Yeah, different of opinions and so on, but such opposite opinions on the subject of a guy whose relationship was focused on three episodes? 

#winx club #winx musa #winx riven #musa x riven #rivusa #anti stella #submission

[panharmonium]

I would like to add Gwaine to the list of friends Merlin had. Especially in the 3/4 seasons he really was ride or die for Merlin, they shared intimate details with each other, they truly trusted each other. There were instances where the show alluded that Gwaine knows about Merlin's magic and is fine with it.

hi there!  i’m assuming this is in response to the post i reblogged about will and lancelot being merlin’s only “real” friends?  

i’m actually happy to write about this, now that the question has been posed - it’s been a while since i wrote anything long about gwaine!

fair warning in advance: i don’t personally classify gwaine the same way i do will and lancelot, and that’s what this piece will cover in more detail, but these are just my own thoughts, and it is totally cool for everybody else to have different opinions.  my take is my take, but it does not have to be everyone’s take - if people wanna scroll past because this isn’t their vibe, i don’t mind in the slightest. :)

so, without further ado - i LOVE gwaine, and i have written extensively about how amazing his relationship with merlin is (some examples here, here, here, and here, if anybody’s looking).  he is the most likely of all merlin’s living friends to ditch arthur in the name of addressing merlin’s needs, which is super important, and he also has a much healthier friendship with merlin than arthur does (in my own personal opinion, of course, which nobody is obligated to share).  he definitely does go ride or die for merlin in S3/S4, i agree.

but my own thoughts on this particular point are still the same as they were in that original post.  i tend to hide my clarifications/explanations in the tags, so they might have flown by, but i’ll just copy/paste the relevant bit here for ease of access, as some background for the rest of this post.

re: will and lancelot were merlin’s only ‘real’ friends:

#what this does not mean: merlin has no other friends!  merlin doesn't have meaningful and important relationships with other people!   #what it does mean:  #every single one of merlin's other relationships is undergirded by the sickening knowledge that those friendships are conditional   #every single one of his other relationships is accompanied by the constant undercurrent of 'they would hate me if they knew'   #merlin knows his friends 'care' about him   #except they don't really; because it's not truly him they're caring about   #they care deeply - about someone merlin made up   #about a facade.   #in the most basic sense   #those relationships aren't Real   #the love merlin feels for the people in them is real   #but you cannot truly be 'friends' with somebody who doesn't even know who you are   #you cannot be loved without being known   #you certainly cannot be loved without being safe

obviously i suppose a person’s thoughts on this would be different if they headcanoned that gwaine knew about merlin’s magic, and that’s fine.  i personally do not believe canon indicates or supports that, but i’m not out to convince people to abandon their own fanon interpretations of things; i’m happy just hanging out in my own space talking about my thoughts.  me writing meta is the virtual equivalent of me talking to myself in my room - if other people have different conversations with themselves, that’s fine :)  i don’t mind if other folks organize their thoughts about things differently.  

in accordance with that - everybody please feel free to continue on with your own interpretations, and ignore mine if mine do not appeal to you!  if people are interested about how i organize my ideas on this, though, they are essentially as follows:

1) a cage fighter, a class traitor, and a fake sorcerer walk into a tavern

ok, to start with - here’s a graph.

(...who tf starts a meta post with ‘here’s a graph’ lol i just drew a venn diagram for the first time since like...middle school...i LOVE fandom, man, this is RIDICULOUS)

anyway

this is a very rough interpretation of how i think about gwaine, lancelot, and will:

to address some of these elements individually:

lancelot and will give merlin something that gwaine can’t - safety, authenticity, the comfort of being known and seen for real, a respite from constantly qualifying every friendship with ‘they would hate me if they knew’

lancelot and gwaine, likewise, give merlin something merlin wouldn’t be as likely to get from will (if will were still alive, i mean) - an understanding of merlin’s devotion to the Crown, a supportive ally in the fight to promote arthur’s reign and keep arthur/camelot safe

will and gwaine, for their part, are more likely to tell arthur to go fuck himself, if it’s important for helping merlin, and that’s a different kind of support that merlin also really needs.

and will, on his own, gives merlin something that neither lancelot NOR gwaine can provide, which is a friend who isn’t connected to or even particularly interested in arthur pendragon (merlin has nobody in his life like this, not after will dies) - somebody who knew and cared about merlin before merlin had any proximity to arthur, before this whole ’destiny’ issue reared its merciless head.

everybody in merlin’s life matters to him and gives him something important.  gwaine is STUPIDLY important to merlin.  the love there is real.  but in canon, because gwaine is not in the know, gwaine is still one of the people from whom merlin feels compelled to hide himself.  gwaine is right up there alongside gwen, arthur, elyan, percival, etc - every other person who merlin loves, who merlin nonetheless constantly, back-of-his-mind fears, ‘they would reject me if they knew.’

the above is part of why i personally have never been too interested in ‘so-and-so knows about merlin’s magic’ canon-imaginings.  there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them, and i’m sure people must have tons of fun with them - and in an AU context maybe i would have fun with them too - but as hopeful interpretations of actual canon, they don’t appeal to me.  merlin’s near-total isolation and desperate, constantly-frustrated desire for real, honest love is an inalienable aspect of his character for me, one i can’t separate from who he is and why he does the things he does and why he eventually ends up in the place where we find him towards the end of the show.  

2) i just want someone to see me for who i am

i have seen a bit of sentiment out there along the lines of ‘merlin should have told (x person) about their magic’ or ‘(x person) obviously doesn’t have a problem with sorcerers,’ but i guess i personally don’t think it’s as clear as all that, and i think me saying it is would be doing merlin a disservice.

merlin’s desire to be seen/known/accepted is literally the most base urge he has.  if he truly thought he could tell somebody safely, he would.

i think merlin knows the people in his orbit well enough to know how they feel about sorcery, at least in a general sense.  and even if they aren’t bloodthirsty bigots like uther, they aren’t exactly welcoming magic with open arms, either.  at the most basic, elementary level, merlin understands something that we don’t like to think about: none of his friends ever challenge arthur on the sorcery ban or express any dissatisfaction with the political status quo, and, even absent outright bigotry, this fact speaks loudly enough in and of itself.  merlin’s friends might not be out clamoring for sorcerers’ blood, but they aren’t criticizing a society that criminalizes sorcery, either, and they are never shown to have a problem with the way things are, even though the way things are is wrong.

The Way Things Are is, in fact, unjust.  it’s oppressive.  and allowing that state of affairs to continue, unquestioned and unchallenged, when you have access to the king’s ear and aren’t personally in danger of being persecuted, indicates that you’re okay with the injustice.  that you’re comfortable with the oppression.  that you don’t see a problem with the status quo, and that you're unbothered enough by it to let it be.

it doesn’t matter that merlin’s friends have never straight-up said ‘boy, magic sure is evil’ onscreen.  they never say that camelot’s policies are wrong, and that delivers a clear enough message on its own.

3) it is not a crime to fight for your freedom

to bring this back to gwaine specifically, since that was originally the focus of this ask -

for me, for all that i adore gwaine, and for all that i think he was, for the most part, an INCREDIBLY sound, healthy relationship for merlin, the truth is that gwaine is as much a part of this problem as everyone else.  does that mean i personally think gwaine would have summarily dumped merlin if he’d found out merlin had magic?  no.  but i don’t think it’s as uncomplicated as maybe we wish it might be, and i think merlin has every right to be as uncertain of gwaine on this issue as he does of everyone else.

for one thing, like i said before, even gwaine, who used to have fewer qualms than any of the knights about pushing back on arthur’s BS, has never said a word about camelot’s injustices, or ever acknowledged that the laws of the land are unjust to begin with.  

for another, there are specific moments that kind of make you wonder.

5.05 (’the disir’) is a good example of this - when gwaine finds osgar in the woods, the two of them have this exchange:

you are a sorcerer, a heretic, and a murderer.  

the rhetoric of this sentence frames all three of these things as equivalent entities - criminal ones.  

to pick this apart more carefully:

a) sorcerer

it’s worth noting here that we’re never told osgar has done anything worse than evading arrest for the crime of being a known sorcerer.  when leon mentions him in the council meeting, the conversation consists solely of the following:

“as you know, a few days ago our garrison in the forest of breckfire intercepted the man who goes by the name of osgar.”

“the sorcerer.”

“the same.  they were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape.”

and…that’s it.  osgar’s crime, as far as we know, was simply being a sorcerer (and then, after that, attempting to escape an unjust arrest, thereby killing a knight in the process).  there’s no mention of any other activities that would have warranted his arrest in the first place, other than the possession of magic.

but magic, even on its own, IS a crime in camelot - and gwaine levels the accusation at osgar as such.

b) heretic

that’s a hell of a word to throw around, if you think sorcery is chill.

“heretic” isn’t a mild accusation.  "heretic” has vitriolic severity behind it.  people are accused of heresy when they’re perceived to be in brazen defiance of what is (in the eyes of the accuser) unquestionably right and correct.  “heretic” is like…it’s like blasphemer.  the connotation is not just that something is bad, but that it’s sinful.

for gwaine, either osgar’s association with sorcery and/or his defiance of camelot’s army makes him a heretic.  and that’s not something a person who is down with sorcery or supportive of a magic-user’s struggle for freedom would say.

c) murderer

if gwaine were cool with sorcery, we would expect him to understand that a sorcerer who resisted arrest for the crime of being a sorcerer isn’t a murderer.  

it’s like kara said in 5.11 - it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.

camelot has been killing sorcerers for decades.  osgar mortally wounded a soldier (not an innocent civilian, i might note) who was trying to imprison him.  he was resisting the armed forces of an oppressive state.  that’s not murder.

somebody who understands that camelot is an oppressive regime wouldn’t think of this as murder.  they would understand that it is not a crime to protect your own life when the state has literally been trying to exterminate your people for years.  and even if osgar had been engaged in rebellious activities against the state (which as far as we know is not the case - nothing like this is ever referenced!), they would understand that people with magic have long been overdue for a righteous uprising.  

but gwaine is a little more like arthur, in this moment - he sees the “wrong” that osgar has done (in the form of sir ranulf’s death) without seeing the thousands upon thousands of wrongs that camelot visited upon the magical community first.

4) you can’t go armed into a sacred place

the rest of this episode is similar.  gwaine pays just as little heed to merlin’s warnings as the rest of the knights, when merlin admonishes them that the disir’s cave is sacred.  gwaine doesn’t relinquish his sword or take special care upon entering the cave.  in fact, he is the one who outright interrupts the disir while they’re speaking - as they’re telling arthur a series of hard truths, that he’s persecuted magic-users, “even unto slaughter;” that he’s desecrated their space: “you come here, to the most sacred of the sacred, to the very heart of the Old Religion, with weapons drawn - trampling hallowed relics - treating our sacred space like you do your kingdom - with arrogance - with conceit - with insolence - ”

and gwaine cuts them off, pushing to the front of the group and shouting at them “enough!  you speak of the king!”  and that’s when the fight starts, when mordred gets stabbed.

someone who was fully accepting of magic, or who knew anything about it at all, would not have behaved this way.  they would not have bristled at hearing how arthur’s regime unfairly persecutes the magical community.  they would have known that it was true.

5) i just want to be myself

the above is just one example, but it’s a clear enough one to illustrate what i mean.  gwaine IS an amazing friend to merlin.  he does treat merlin well.  and merlin loves him to death.  but gwaine is NOT totally chill with magic.  i’m not saying he actively hates it, but he is not, from what merlin has witnessed, entirely safe.  merlin loves him, but he can’t be himself around him.

and i do think that pains merlin terribly.  all these people who he loves so much, and every time he’s with them there’s always that whisper: ‘this is a charade.  all the love in my life is a lie.  they only like me because they don’t know me.  if they knew who i really was, this would be over.’  

and we wonder why he never tells anyone.  we tell him he ‘should’ have told gwaine, gwen, morgana, arthur, like it would have been easy, or even possible, for him to ever consider putting himself in a position where he could lose what precarious, partially make-believe connections he has.

merlin, in the later seasons, when he worries about his magic being exposed, isn’t afraid of being executed.  he’s afraid of becoming even more alone than he is now.  and he has good reason to feel that way - even people who appear to put him first aren’t fully on board with the thing that makes him who he is.  and merlin knows this.  he’s seen it.  none of his friends are out fighting for people like him at court.  some of his friends shake their heads and assure arthur “you are a good and just king” when arthur expresses concern that maybe the disir are right, maybe he has indeed transgressed.  some of merlin’s friends used to buck the system in defense of the powerless, but now they defend the regime even when the accusations levelled against it by an oppressed population are true.

merlin knows that revealing himself is a kind of risk that could very plausibly end with him utterly disowned.  every single friendship he has is subject to this justified fear, this bitter knowledge.  merlin has every reason to doubt the soundness of his relationships.

and, circling back to the thing that started all these musings - the only friends who never made him feel that way were will and lancelot.

that’s all i mean when i say that will and lancelot were merlin’s only “real” friends.  i wish there were a better word to use than that, because i really don’t mean it like…as if merlin’s relationships with other people weren’t…valid, or important, or based on true love and care.  they were.  but there’s just not a better way to express that will and lancelot were the only people who ever even knew who they were friends with, who saw merlin for exactly who he was and said “i love you still.”  they were the only ones whose friendship was something merlin didn’t have to be afraid of losing solely for existing.

i always think of morgana’s line in 2.11 - ‘i don’t want to be brave.  i just want to be myself. i don’t want to be alone anymore.’

around everyone else, merlin has to be brave.  he has to keep up the pretense, which means even when he’s surrounded by friends, he’s completely isolated.

with will and lancelot, though, he could be himself.  with will and lancelot, he wasn’t alone.

6) post-script

i really appreciate being given the opportunity to muse to myself about this in more detail - i actually needed to think through some things regarding gwaine anyway, for writing purposes, and this was actually really helpful in organizing my brain.  so thanks, anon, for the prompt!  

i know my answer probably runs counter to your own interpretation of things, but as i said, this is just my own personal outlook.  i typed it up because the message got me thinking, and because i know i have a couple of friends who might find it interesting, but my thoughts apply only to me, and i do not mind at all if folks think about these things differently!  nobody is obligated to agree with anything i write, or give it any further thought, or even read it at all - we’re all going to engage with this story in different ways, so if anybody finds that this isn’t their cup of tea, please feel free to scroll on by, and keep having fun with this show in whatever way makes you happiest! :)

#tumblr is doing something weird and not letting me use read-more's in posts that are replies to an ask #i was able to screenshot the last ask i replied to and just turn the whole thing into a text post with a read-more #because i knew the sender would see it anyway #but i'm not sure an anon will see this without getting the notification #sorry this is a #long post #i will play with it more and see if i can get the cut to actually show up #=/ #the once and future slowburn #you're the only friend i've got #meta #replies #the bravest and most noble of them all #no kings no masters

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Sooooo NSFW alphabet (as a whole) for our dear clone boys? Wolffe or Cody...u decide ❤ thank u

A/N: I decided to go with Wolffe on this one because, I like Wolffe.  Also, I think I’ve got a better grasp on his character. And, just as a reminder REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! Likes mean nothing on this site and the tags hate me personally.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Panting, sweating, and holding you close.  He seriously loves nothing more than pulling you against him as he presses soft kisses all over your skin.  You practically have to bribe him to let you go long enough to wash up after.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your ass.  There’s no getting around it.  He loves the way it feels in his hand.  He loves the sound you make when he squeezes it.  And most of all, he hates to see you leave, but he loves to watch you go.

For himself, Wolffe is pretty proud of his chest.  He loves the feel of your hands on him.  He knows you watch him when he’s training with his brothers.  And you’ve made it your mission in life to kiss an admire every scar on it.  How could he not appreciate your efforts?

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s a tie if he prefers cumming in your mouth or in your cunt more.  Either way, cumming inside you is the best feeling in the world for him.  It’s like he’s proving to himself that you’re his.  It’s his cum inside you, nobody else, and you’re letting him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He still has your panties from the first night you had sex.  He’s not proud of it, but when he’s been away from too long, he likes to hold the lace as he jerks off.  He would never tell you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Let’s go with limited before he meets you. Obviously none of the clones even see any sort of potential sexual partner until after their training is over, and after then it’s kind of few and far between.  Wolffe has had a couple of one night stands with some women who have come into 79′s, but that’s about it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style.  Cliche? Yes. But true. He loves having a perfect view of your ass as he cock slides in and out of you, coated with you slick.  He loves the control it gives him.  But he especially loves covering you with his body and bite into your shoulder as you both cum.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not really.  He can be a little cheeky at times as he teases you, but most of the time it’s fast, rough, and completely erotic.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it pretty trim down below.  He knows you’re not a fan of a mouth full of pubic hair when you suck him off.  The least he can do is keep your comfort to a minimum.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In the moment it’s like he wants to absorb your body into his. Even when he’s taking you from behind, he grabbing and pulling and kissing your skin like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.  So, romantic? Maybe not.  Intimate? Yes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s away a lot and every now and again needs to let off some steam.  He shares his bunk with his brothers, so getting off there without leaving some evidences is a trick.  Most of the time he waits until late at night on the ship and slips into the showers when nobody is around.  It’s then a matter of turning on the warm water and picturing you’re in there with him.  He’s gotten off plenty of times to the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock as the water pours down both your bodies.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink. We know Wolffe has his own reservations about being a clone.  While he’s gotten better, the idea that he’s one of literally millions ways on him at times.  So to have you call his name, praise his fingers, his cock, his lips and know that he’s the one making you see stars is everything to him.

Also totally a Dom.  Not full blown latex and whips, but he does like the idea of tying you up and letting him do what he wants to your body.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place is your apartment on Coruscant.  If he’s at your apartment, good chance you’re both on leave so the probability of being call away or interrupted are slim to none.  He once kept you in that apartment for three days straight after not seeing you in months.  All you did was fuck, eat, sleep and fuck again for almost 72 hours.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, just you whispering into his ear and telling him you’re horny is enough to get him going.  You add and kiss and a small bite on his neck and he’s ready to take you against the nearest wall.  You’re own assertiveness combined with the fact you want him to be the one to take care of you is all he needs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

You humiliating him.  Seriously, degrading him or hitting him or anything like that just gets him frustrated and upset.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He man loves a good blow job. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s a toss up for him between cumming down your throat or in your pussy.  The sight of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock has gotten him through plenty of lonely nights.

That all being said, he’s excellent at giving.  Although, he almost exclusively uses it as a form of torture.  There was one memorable night when he tied your hands to the headboard and decided to see how many times he could make you cum with just his tongue and fingers.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Most of the time it’s rough borderline feral sex.  Lots of hair pulling, biting, bruised hips and a couple of broken headboards.  If you’re both not panting like you just ran a marathon he considers it a slow night.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

On the rare occasion you’re working along side each other, quickies are definitely a thing. He never has a quickie while on duty, but he knows there is no way you guys can get enough privacy to had a full sessions.  So, the solution is quickies in empty shower rooms, abandoned tech rooms, and even once an empty med bay.  He’s not sure when he’s going to see you again and doesn’t want to waste the opportunity

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Wolffe really is up for anything, so long as you talk to him before hand.  He wants to makes sure you’re comfortable and safe with whatever you guys try out.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is actually pretty impressive.  You’re not sure if it’s just pent up energy since you guys so rarely get to see each other in person or if he’s just like that.  Either way, he can go three rounds on an average night.  They fluctuate in terms of time depending on how much foreplay is in between sessions, but it’s enough to leave you both exhausted and spent by the end of it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Wolffe doesn’t really have any toys for himself.  The mocking he would get from his brothers if they ever found it is enough for him not to risk it.  But, you do have a nice collection of toys in your apartment the pair of you like to bring out every now and again.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is such a tease.  There is just something about you tied to the bed, bucking your hips as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers begging for him to let you cum that is oh so satisfying.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He certainly is loud.  Add that to another reason why your apartment is the best place to have sex.  He grunt and groan and whispers dirty things in your ear only to get louder and more wild the closer he is to cumming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Absolutely none of his brothers really realize how bad he has it for you.  Wolffe more than almost any other clone knows how to divide his private life from his personal life.  Even if you work together and go off to random corners of the ship for a quick one, literally nobody catches on.  The man has the best poker face in the GAR and you can quote me on that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’m convinced all the clones are hung and you can quote me on that.  An eight inch thick dick, the lot of them.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, which surprises everyone besides you.  Every chance he has to touch you, he does.  You wonder if it will cool down once the war is over because there’s no chance any time soon.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s out pretty soon after you finally call it a night.  Grant you are too, but he’s out like a light.  Nothing short of a bombing is going to get him up.

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #star wars #the clone wars #star wars imagine #the clone wars imagine #lemon

[heyheydidjaknow]

FUCK YOU TIME! I’m aware I’m an hour and a half late, but I finished the chapter, so HA. I know nobody cares, but I’m happy with myself. Previous chapter is at the bottom of the page, of course.

Chapter 4

"Why, pray tell, don't you trust me?"

"Because you're being paranoid." Mikey gets into position at the top of the ramp as you scroll through your phone absentmindedly, watching your friends back home sincerely mourning your death. "I am an ex-peer-ee-onsed skateboarder and ninja. This is gonna be epic."

"As someone who saw that episode," you reassure him, sighing at your mother's inactivity online confirming your suspicions for the umpteenth time, "you are absolutely going to get in trouble." The lair is a mess, the ramp more so, and the entire situation is so obviously the inciting incident that you're half convinced that the universe itself is pranking you. You slid the phone into your pocket, not really in the mood to start crying again. "In fact, this is directly related to the theme of the episode. In other words, don't do it."

"Relax, dude." He sets himself up. "I am totally gonna make this jump and it is going to be sweet."

"Theme?" Donatello pipes up from his place on the ground in front of the ramp. "The first major constituent of a clause?"

You blink. "No, the new Subway footlong. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That's the definition of theme."

"Who uses that definition? Grammar teachers?"

"The dictionary."

You are dumbfounded. "Why would I— do you know how people usually use that word?"

"People usually use that word at all?"

You look over at Raphael and Leonardo, who are on the floor next to him, and who seem completely disinterested. "Do you guys—"

"No. Who uses the word 'theme'?" Raphael rolls his eyes. "Mikey, do you plan on jumping today?"

"Wait, so none of you have ever used that word in a literary sense?"

"There's a literary sense?"

You sigh. "In hindsight, I guess that makes sense, since— Mikey, you're gonna get grounded for it."

"Will not."

"Will too. Donnie, when you inevitably get grounded for this, after your grounding is over, come to my apartment. I'm teaching you literary analysis because that is ridiculous." You get to your feet. "Oh," you say, "before I go, when he grounds you, don't go out. If you get into trouble while you're out, get me, and if he asks why you're tired, say it was a movie marathon, and if he asks which movies, Lord of The Rings. See ya." You run out as you hear the shouts of their father telling them to stop.

You walk back up to the surface via the empty subway tunnel. You had quickly realized that it was infinitely less gross than going through the sewers, and your apartment already smelled enough like raw sewage from the amount of time you had started spending down there. You have considered buying new clothes with your quickly appreciating bank account, but you could not bring yourself to look, even with your new freedom. Maybe it was a lack of motivation? You do not exactly know. More likely is your complete lack of inspiration and faith in your own choices, but what do I know?

You start down the street to your building. You would not go so far as to say it felt like home, but you had become more accustomed to it. You had learned the bellboy’s name, nodded to neighbors. It is not a stunning amount of progress, but it is progress. You spend most of your days now, if not re-watching whatever episode is relevant next, for the first time, cyberstalking people you knew from back home. How courteous of that organization to give you an up-to-date feed of life moving on without you; at least you get to see your cousins.

You do not remember the actual walk. You remember getting to your apartment, walking right by your refrigerator, and collapsing onto the bed.

You feel like shit.

You roll onto your back, going right back to stalking. You are not sure why you bother making yourself feel worse. You tried messaging them to absolutely no avail. You cannot comment on posts, either. You know this. You still grasp onto this shred from your past. It just makes you sad. Why are you doing this to yourself?

You feel a lump rise in your throat. You close the window.

You curl around your pillow, hugging it tightly. You the sound of your fingers against the screen was the only thing to permeate the room. You are following a tangent, looking for a book you were interested in a century ago. Something about a pervert? You forget.

You miss home.

—

You do not even need to look up from your phone; the panting is enough. "I'm going to take a wild guess."

"I know you said to come get you," Donnie gushed, "but it was 2 in the morning and I totally forgot and I was freaking out about this new invention and—"

You set the e-book down, walking over and grasping his hands gently. "Take a deep breath, alright? You're gonna be fine, so long as you chill out and think."

"Baxter Stockman is serious business."

"I know, honey, but you gotta calm down, alright?" You slowly pull him down to sit on the bed.

"He snapped my staff with his freakin hand!"

"You are going to go through at least 2 more of those bad boys. Breathe with me." You inhale deeply. "In."

He mimics you.

"Out."

He follows suit.

"Okay. Are you good?"

His breathing slows. He swallows, nods. "Okay, I'm calm."

"Awesome. Now, I'm gonna give you a mini version of our lesson, alright? Is that okay?" The irony of you trying to calm down the trained ninja is not lost on you.

"Yeah, alright." He nodded.

"Alright. Let's start off with the basics." You sit yourself up properly. "Now, this is a kid's show, right?"

"If you say so, yeah."

"The thing about kids shows is that there's usually a moral to each of the episodes."

"Okay."

You put up one finger. "At the beginning of the episode, you guys got grounded, right?"

He nodded.

"You guys snuck out, and you got into a fight with Stockman. That fight is the reason he's after you, right?" You try to speak relatively clearly and, more importantly, calmly.

"Yeah." He seems to respond relatively positively to this.

"And then,” you continue, putting up a second finger, “Mikey losing the t-pod and not telling anyone is what lead to Stockman getting powerful, right?”

He nodded.

“In both instances, the problem was a lack of transparency, right? Not asking for help for fear of getting in trouble?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you nod with him, “the way to fix this is?”

“To ask for help regardless of whether or not it will get us in trouble with Splinter?”

“Exactly.” You smile encouragingly. “Why?”

“Because that’s the message of the episode?”

“You really are quick to catch on.” You get to your feet. “I’m not surprised you’re the brains of the group.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up.

“Most definitely. Now,” you get to your feet, “as much as I love when we talk, and as much as I owe you a lesson on how to identify these sorts of things on your own, I’m sure your brothers could use that advice right about now.”

“Right!” He gets up. “Thank you, again.”

“My pleasure, my guy. Oh, hit me up when you’re off of your grounding so I can figure out a lesson plan.”

“You got it.” He climbed out of the window. “See you then, Y/N.”

“Kick their asses.” You wave as he disappears into the night.

Your smile slowly slides off your face as you close the window. You pick your phone up to check the time.

You toss it onto the bed. ‘I’m making cupcakes.’ You have not eaten in what feels like a while. You are already out of bed. Might as well.

--

“She called me honey.”

Raphael rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you, there’s no way that a girl like her is going to be into you. You’re delusional.”

“Honey is a pet name!” Donatello’s voice rises slightly. “And—and she invited me to her place after we aren’t grounded!”

“Let him believe.” Leonardo pipes up from in front of the television. “I think it’s nice that he and she are as close of friends as they are so quick.”

“For the record, I’m rooting for ya, bro.” Mikey takes another bite out of his pizza. “Sure, you’re a little creepy, but so is she, so it works out.”

He scoffs. “Aren’t you three forgetting something? Like, I don’t know, that we’re turtles? Is the fact that she’s an entirely different species not a factor?”

“Part turtle.” He speaks incredibly fast. “Our DNA is mutated with—”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re holding onto that technicality real tight, aren’t you?” He stabs the dummy in the gut. “A technicality that I’m sure she cares about.”

“I did the research.” He gets to his feet, running over and grabbing a diagram from his lab. “We’re physically compatible.”

“Donnie. Brother. No.” He stops. “Please tell me you didn’t seriously look into whether or not you could fuck her. I know you like this girl, but come on.”

“I didn’t go out of my way to research how our reproductive system works for this.” He tosses it back into his lab, sliding the door closed. “I did that research a while back. I just had to investigate reproduction on the female end to make sure everything worked.” He stands up straight. “Theoretically, we are fully capable of reproducing with humans.”

“Theoretically?” Leo looks back at him.

He feels his face go red. “Well, there isn’t any clinical research done on the subject. We’re the only ones of our kind, after all, and I don’t have any female samples to use.”

“For fuck’s sake, Donnie, do not ask her for ‘samples’.” He gags. “That’s just fucking gross.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“You were. I’d bet money on it.”

“Ten bucks says he still will.” Mikey drops the rest of it down his throat.

“Hey!”

“Dude, you’re freakier than I am. I love you but come on.” He lays back on the couch.

“Y’all are just gross.” He stabbed the dummy in the neck, sand pouring out of the hole. “We need a more durable dummy.”

“You could just not break the ones I make.” He sits down on the couch. “That’s an option.”

“It’s a literal punching bag. It’s a show of love.”

The episode ends. Leo walked over to the two on the couch, sitting on the other side of his lanky brother as Michelangelo scrounges for crumbs. “Look, it might be jumping the gun a bit to start researching if you guys can have kids. You guys aren’t even in a relationship.”

“I know.” He rubs his face with his hands. “I dunno, man. What am I doing?”

“Exactly.” He pats him on the back. “I’m not saying it could never happen, but this is a little much.”

He sighs. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“We wouldn’t lie to you.” He gets to his feet. “I’m gonna go meditate for a while. You wanna join me?”

“I’m good.” Donnie hopped over the back of the couch. “I’m gonna go work on this thing I’ve been working on.”

“Alright, man.” He walks off to the dojo.

He steps into his lab, sliding the door closed behind him. He sits at his workstation, a half-finished robot sat on the table. He slides his tongue in the space between his teeth absentmindedly as he goes back to connecting wires.

‘She used the past tense. Had, she said.’ He bounces his knee absentmindedly, reaching for the soldering iron. ‘But she called me honey. She called me hot stuff. Is that an insult?” He tests the joints. ‘I don’t remember.’

He sets his project down for a second. He opens his laptop, smiling gently at his screen saver. It is a photo you had emailed him of the two of you to show you how it worked.

‘I should make a camera. Or find one. A digital one.’ He sighs, closing it. ‘She is absolutely gorgeous.’

He goes back to work, still feeling your fingers around his.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#donnie x reader #donatello x reader #2012 donnie #donatello #tmnt donatello #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt 2012 #fluff #angst #2000+ words #x reader #if i add more tags will people see this more often? #I dunno #I mean #I’d feel bad if people didn’t like this for whatever reason. #Sunday? #nyc #pizza #apartment #red velvet #red velvet cupcakes #baxter #baxter stockman #skateboard #I can’t turn back now. we’re on page 27 in my word doc. #that’s 10955 words. longest time I’ve stuck with a thing since 7th grade. #the y/n is most certainly going to die. you know the episode. I’ll release that chapter separately

[pochapal]

I hate doctor 11 but ive never been able to explain why in like words lmao. He feels like such a mary sue character imo and like theres something about his characterisation that was always just really ineffective (like the stuff about fishfingers and custard or whatever it was). Imo i'd love to hear you give top 5 worst things about the 11 era because i rlly just love when it gets torn apart

i hold nothing but a seething contempt and loathing for that man. every time he appeared on screen i felt ready to snap like a riled up chimpanzee in my enclosure. i am frothing at the mouth and overcome with a desire to start flinging heavy objects. this might be incoherent and inconsistent but i started this rewatch in feb 2020 and only finished this week so i got through 11′s episodes last august/september time and i refuse to revisit it to jog my memory or fact check anything i’m saying here because this man does not deserve the space in my mind for that.

the first thing is i can’t fucking STAND the quirky whimsy timey wimey bit he has going on all of the time. i can’t even say this is because this is a kids show and i was a teen and then adult when i first properly watched him but actually!! when i was eleven years old i’d sleep over at a friend’s house most weekends and it always coincided with the airing of a new season 5 episode and i remember we watched the finale with the dumb time hopping to get out of the box prison that was never explained and didn’t make sense and i thought at the time “this is really stupid”. and before that my only other doctor who exposure was watching the david tennant christmas specials with another friend and throughout childhood my only opinion on doctor who was “this is a tv show that is not for me but is one that all the boys i am friends with like so i will put up with it to maintain our friendships” but at least those episodes were both suspenseful and engaging enough to keep me watching all the way through. like who the fuck does an end of the world sci fi plot and approaches it with an “oopsy woopsy i am a funny little alien man who is going to stop you all by making you do a hecking silly” like it’s unneeded and self-parodies an already cheesy show to the point where it becomes unwatchable and makes it impossible to ever take this man seriously.

next thing that downright sucks ass so badly is the stupid fucking overwritten constantly escalating plotlines. like everything from season 5 up until his regeneration at the end of season 7 is meant to be this grand interconnected cosmic plot about how...the doctor trying to bring back his planet will end the universe or something so all the top powers across all of reality tried again and again to stop him from doing that except he doesn’t know what’s going on so he keeps thwarting these people who supposedly mean good?? i mean i sure don’t fucking know what they were trying to say!! like for some reason we never get the doctor suddenly becomes this superdemon that threatens everything so these people (whoever they are) decide to, in sequence: suck him through a time rift to erase him from existence, trap him in a prison and remake a universe without him, take his companion’s baby and turn her into a perfectly trained doctor killer, form two(!!) secret societies to hunt him throughout history that are only stopped by his companion splintering herself across his personal timeline to protect him, and repeatedly cause reality collapsing events because it’s a kinder outcome for the universe than what he will do. this grand and terrible event turns out to be...he spends a few hundred years chilling by a rift that leads to his home planet and protects a few generations of children from monsters which convinces them to give him infinite regeneration power then fuck off back to their pocket universe. and it’s like!! what is the point of anything that happens in this man’s era when everything is always “the darkest moment” or whatever the fuck!! i don’t care!! we never get a compelling reason to believe this bumbling clown of a man could ever be a universal threat!! the whole thing is so dumb i hate it!!!

thing number three i hate is how the eleventh doctor is ALSO characterised as this abrasive egotistic male supergenius to the point where he becomes genuinely indistinguishable from bbc sherlock. genuinely who enjoyed seeing this guy constantly tell people their tiny human minds can’t comprehend what he’s doing and then basically just wave his magic wand to solve whatever problem each episode is facing. 2012 is the year of human sin because this fucking shitsmear character archetype somehow became both a redditor role model AND a tumblr sexyman and it’s like!! nobody is enjoying this stop making this seem cool! him saying timey wimey thing any time he does anything is frustrating and dumb and locks the viewer out of giving a fuck about anything that is happening! smartest man in the room syndrome is a disease and the eleventh doctor is terminal with it. like remember how they established river as an accomplished scientist (when she wasn’t being a child soldier or a time paradox or whatever the fuck) and every time that came up mr doctor eleven man was like “oh this thing is obvious because i’m a genius and you didn’t realise because your brain is tiny so get out of the way and let the grownups think” or that time it turned out amy had been replaced with a slime clone for half the season and the doctor chewed rory (audience surrogate) out for somehow not realising this fact we didn’t know right from the start and like. this served no purpose other than to draw into severe question why the doctor is also this super beloved magical figure implicitly trusted by all children everywhere like. mr steven moffat is totally allergic to writing and solving mysteries in his tv show and fuck you for wanting to figure things out as you go along based on the new evidence you uncover at strategic plot intervals just let this asshole man use magical thinking to reveal he knew the answer all along and you’re a fucking idiot for not also realising this thing which had no basis or precedent anywhere else in the show.

speaking of dumb things let us not forget the absolute shitshow that was minority representation in this era. i’m not even talking about the low hanging fruit of how genuinely unironically sexist amy and clara were written where each episode moffat either seemed to loathe them or was incredibly horny over them and they had no character growth or arc or fucking anything. i’m talking about how fucking shit terrible the incidental representation was. god remember how every single fucking gay person who appeared in this era was written as one incredibly fucking stupid joke and how the women were all either sexy dominatrix, feeble girl in love, or Mother (or all three in some really terrible cases) and i’m not qualified to talk about this but also how incredibly white this era was and how on two separate occasions we had monarchs reimagined as sexy girlbosses with a gun played by black women who the doctor leched over. nothing about any of this was good ESPECIALLY coming off the back of rtd who was surprisingly forward thinking for 2005 and did a really good job of positing travel with the doctor as queer allegory. in comparison moffat gave us THE MOST heterosexual shlock i’ve ever had to endure. amy and rory could have been interesting characters were they not hemmed into this domestic bickering young straight married couple bullshit that was in no way changed or altered by traveling with the doctor except for the quasi incestuous river song reveal that was dumb and bad and stupid.

the last major mega gripe i have with the series is moffat’s fucking jingoistic boner for british military aesthetics. this carried over throughout his entire tenure as showrunner but was super terrible vomit inducing in eleven’s era. the unironic admiration for ww2 britain and winston churchill is downright wretched. are you incapable of telling a second world war story outside of churchill’s london and plucky blitz fighters. shit gives me hives so badly. and then!!! that weird church owned army that features in the future that end up being bad not for the concept of what basically amounts to an imperialistic intergalactic rendition of the fucking crusades but because they’re part of the nonsense go nowhere puzzlebox narrative that says the doctor is a not good man who will do bad things to the universe :(. remember how rtd’s doctor was a freshly traumatised man hot off the war criminal press who time and time again vehemently refuses to engage in military violence, but who tragically inadvertently turns every one of his companions into soldiers in his own personal army, and he has this moment of complete horror at the realisation and it is this which causes the downward spiral that ends in 10′s regeneration. and then how there’s this cringe line about how there’s a force of people who are “the doctor’s army, always ready to fight his battles when he’s not around” or some shit and then it turns out this is actually massive literal military operation and we’re meant to celebrate this. fuck off.

bonus round because this needs to be said but i have never hated anything like i hated that fucking human tardis episode. everything about it induced violent anger in me from the sickening overindulgence of that softgoth dark whimsy helena bonham carter tim burton aesthetic to the bafflingly terrible evil carny stereotype of those junk scavengers to the overblown sudden tragic shipbait romance of human tardis and the doctor. every word out of her mouth was trite shit and the fact that the death of her body was presented as this super emotional dramatic scene despite there being no buy in or incentive to care and the fact that every single person on tumblr in 2012 ate that shit up like it was fucking gourmet. i loathe every single thing about that episode so much.

#Anonymous #hi bestie here's 1500 words of me getting mad about the worst television experience i had in my life #why the FUCK was this man tumblr's favourite back in the day. what the fuck did anyone see in any of this shit #i never want to think about dr whom ever again

[mochideleche]

you can’t keep away from fate | CH1

Pairing : Percy jackson x demigod!reader 

summary : The daughter of destiny- literally, along with inevitability, compulsion and necessity. Being the child of a primordial goddess doesn’t really assure you a quiet calm life but when you return to new york after five years of being shipped off to boarding school, your once mundane life says goodbye.

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A/N I’ve been wanting to write this for quite some time so here it is! this is going to be quite a long fanfic so i’ll have the parts linked in each post when they’re ready. (p.s the pov’s might change from yours to percy’s just because some parts of the story will seem better that way) enjoy!

 It took about 2 weeks to convince your father to let you tag along with him to his business trip to new york. You were certain he would never comply but after you pulled your ‘puppy eyes’ and ‘it’s been 5 years’ cards, he grudgingly agreed. 

So for one week only you said goodbye to your sophisticated private boarding school and you were off to america, the current central of western civilisation- in other words, the land of the gods. 

Once in New york, your father had let you roam around on your own which surprised you a lot. You’d had expected him to get one of his assistants to babysit you but you both knew deep down that you were rather capable of taking care of yourself- wether that was being kidnapped or attacked by a monster, or both. 

Before you left he made sure that you were wearing your mother’s bracelets, two pearl and diamond encrusted items which could extend into long elegant swords by the flick of your wrists. You didn’t use them on the regular so it felt foreign to you, the last time you had used them was when you lived with you mum. 

Your mum wasn’t exactly a sore subject, yeah sure, she had sent you off to live with your father at the age of eleven and then disappeared off the face of the earth without any trace or any goodbye to anyone- which you guessed wasn’t exactly difficult for a goddess, but you knew it was for the better. She’d wanted you to live an as normal life as you could, keep you out of harms way- but that was wishful thinking. Being her daughter, you would never get a normal life. 

Even though northern europe didn’t exactly host a load of monsters, unless you were near the mediterranean,  and you had lived like any other mortal- you knew that was sure to end, someone or something would find you one way or another. 

and by coming to new york, standing in front of the empire state building, was exactly how you’d ended it. 

Your father hadn’t exactly said you were forbidden to go there, but it was an unspoken rule that didn’t exactly needed saying. It was just like your father not choosing to state you weren't allowed to commit mass murder but you knew not to do it anyway. 

You stared at the building, you had an itch to go inside; maybe just to see who was manning the lobby- but you knew you wouldn’t be allowed up, would you? it would be a very bad idea to go up. You wondered if olympus still looked the same.

 It sometimes made you angry that you were tossed out of there five years ago, even though there were valid reasons as to why, but you couldn’t be blamed, after all- it was where you were born.  

......

It was one of those days where percy wished nothing would interrupt a lovely day with his friends. But when those friends are a satyr and a demigod you can’t really expect nothing to go wrong.

Annabeth and grover had come down from camp half blood to spend the some time with percy which was the very thing he had been looking forward to this entire week, him and his two best friends enjoying pizza at the best place in the whole city.  But in the mid way of their lunch, grover paused, a look of shock painted on his face.  “What is is?” Percy asked, looking around for any threats, his hand clasping on riptide in his pocket.

“It’s a demigod- i think” Grover muttered the last part, then his shocked face turned to fear.

“What, grover what is it? What do you mean you think it’s a demigod?” Annabeth questioned, but grover continued to nervously shake his head. 

“And a monster” Grover started to panic, “There’s a monster, there’s obviously a monster-i could sense them from a mile away” he rambled and annabeth and percy shared a look of confusion. 

Percy didn’t know why grover was in such a state of shock, he’d sensed demigods being followed by monsters all the time and never had he panicked like this- something was wrong and for about the millionth time this week, percy just wished he was normal. 

“Do you know where they are?” Percy questioned, already standing up, annabeth following in suit. 

Grover looked up with them with scared eyes, “uh yeah, but we aren’t following them are we?” he asked, picking up percy’s empty coke can and nervously chewing it.

“Yes we are” Annabeth and percy said in unison, and grover slumped. 

“Alright then, let’s go fight a monster”

It wasn’t long till Grover had lead them down a few blocks and stopped in in the middle of the street, facing the other side with his legs shaking so hard, he could barely keep his crutches straight. 

“There” he said, not pointing or giving any gesture to show who he was looking at but percy knew immediately who he meant. 

There, walking hurriedly was a petite girl, with long caramel hair dressed in a thin black army jacket, jeans and a grey tube top. gods you were pretty. You practically made percy breathless and almost forget that you had a monster following you somewhere. 

You glanced back quickly then turned your attention back to the road but not before your eyes landed on the three of them. You put them all in a state of shock, it was like you could tell they were watching you, it was like you knew what they were. 

Percy watched you take an intake of breath like you were going to say something, but you turned your head and disappeared into the new york crowd. But before percy could think about what had happened, Grover shrieked and hid behind annabeth and percy could see exactly why.

Lumbering slowly through the crowd was a giant, with pudgy skin seeping in places and wearing nothing but a loincloth. He walked through the mortals and nobody acted like they could see him, whatever they saw the giant as through the mist, it must’ve been normal. 

“What’s that thing doing here?” Annabeth hissed, and she immediately made her way to cross the street, percy followed after her and after a short pause, so did grover. 

They followed the giant, which wasn’t exactly hard, through the busy flow of people. They knew they had to kill the giant but they couldn’t do so in the middle of the street filled with mortals. And just after a couple of blocks the street began to empty, leaving the three of them with a clear view of you and the giant in front of them.

But you suddenly ducked into a side road which made percy curse. 

The giant would have no problem trying to kill you now.

The giant seemed to take this in too, he looked around the street just to check there weren’t any others planning to duck into the alleyway and followed you in.

The three of them ran. 

Percy had already uncapped riptide, taking the lead of the chase, he couldn’t imagine what the giant would do, he had to save you- quickly. 

But as he turned the corner, it seemed like you didn’t need saving. 

Somehow you had thrown yourself onto the giants head, your legs chocking the giant as he aimlessly tried to swat you away like some bug that annoyed him. He dangerously swayed side to side, threatening to smash you into the narrow set walls either side of you.

“Tell me who you're working for!” you shouted, a slight accent perking your voice. 

it made you all the more cuter, percy thought.

“Who sent you!” you screamed, hands pulling up on the giants ears causing it to yell out in pain. 

“You shall die!” the giant bellowed but it didn’t phase you.

You rolled your eyes, you seemed bored and tired of this monsters bull crap and  with one hand you made a gesture as if you were pulling a string away from the giants nose and the monster began to cough. 

Then it stood still, eyes wide and then- it exploded into ashes. 

And that left you sitting on nothing, so you fell towards the floor. 

Percy acted before he could think and ran under you, arms spread out and in a split second, you landed in his arms. 

“Oh-” you said, shocked, staring at the dark haired boy whose arms you were laying in, “hello” 

His sea green eyes shifted awkwardly to the side for a second before returning back to you again, “ uhm, hi” 

smooth percy, smooth. 

The two of you looked at each other, faces inches apart. None of you spoke and just looking at your coffee coloured eyes made percy’s heart beat erratically, but the fact that you were there in his arms made his heart burst it’s way out of his chest. 

Percy gulped, you smiled at him. 

“ahem” annabeth coughed, and percy turned to see the two of his best friends with smug grins of their faces, “ sorry to bother but she was just attacked by a giant” 

“More like the giant was attacked by her” grover said a sheepish smile on his face, amazed by the mystery girl’s unexpected ability.

“You can put me down now,” you said quietly, patting percy’s chest to which his awkwardly mumbled out a ‘right, sorry’ and set you down gingerly beside him. 

Percy could hear the sniggers from behind him and it made him even more flustered. gods he was going to kill the both of them. 

“How did you do that? I mean, you barely did anything and the giant died” Annabeth questioned, adoration and confusion lacing her voice as she approached you.

“Oh, i uhm,” you stuttered, tucking your hair behind your ear, “i made him stop breathing” 

“by strangling him?” percy asked and you shook your head with a small smile. 

“No, i stopped the air from entering his lungs” you replied innocently as if you were saying “i asked him if how his day was” 

Percy’s mouth fell open, “you what?!”

“So you can manipulate air?” Annabeth asked and you nodded. 

“Wait you’re definitely a demigod right? not some sort of sorceress or minor goddess” Grover questioned, still shocked at the fact that you had defeated that giant so easily.

You laughed, “i’m no goddess, just a demigod” 

well you sure looked like a goddess, percy thought, had a laugh like one too and had the power of one, he wasn’t even sure he could defeat a 7ft giant with no weapon. 

“I’m annabeth, this is grover and this is percy” Annabeth introduced, hand stretched out in greeting, you shook it and gave them a large smile.

“I’m Y/N” 

The more he stared at you, the more details he seemed to take in, how your hair was actually dyed- your black roots appearing at the crown of your head, how your jacket was two sizes too big and how it draped slightly on one shoulder, how perfectly manicured your nails were. 

could you be anymore attractive? 

“So do you know who your godly parent is?” Annabeth asked and you nodded but you didn’t expand on the question and it was obvious to the three of them that you weren’t too keen on sharing information to 3 strangers. 

“If you want, we could take you back to a safe place, it’s for demigods, it’s called camp half blood” Annabeth coaxed, and percy knew she was trying to recruit the you. 

These were desperate times and camp half blood needed all the help it could get. 

“Camp half blood? oh! i know that place!” you said excitedly- throwing the three of them into shock.

“You do?” percy asked, and you nodded your head.

“My father went there, he was a son of Hephaestus” 

If it was possible, this put the three in even more shock.

“You’re father was a halfblood?” percy asked amazed. It was known that once demigods got older they would leave camp and try to make a life for themselves, but at that moment it seemed so impossible to even survive after 16 that percy found the idea so foreign. 

“How come you didn’t go to camp half blood then?” grover asked.

“I don’t live in america” you explained, which was rather evident from your accent but now that it was stated, percy didn’t have to assume.

 “Well i think chiron would really want to meet you, he might have known your dad” Annabeth said, leading you out of the alleyway as you two talked.

Percy was left staring at our back, grover stood next to him.

“you know, you could try talking to her rather than just ogling at her” Grover snickered and without a word percy punched him. 

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy x reader #percy jackson x reader #annabeth #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the gods of olympus #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fanfiction #percy #demigod!reader

[grimmjagger]

Hello and welcome here ! I hope you'll have fun writing for those fantastic characters ! If you still have some places, would it be possible to ask for "Drunk texts" headcanons between Urahara, Ichigo, Grimmjow, Kensei and their crush ? Thanks and take care of you ! Ps: I don't know if it's done on purpose, but we can't leave you an ask on Anon (:

Thank you for letting me know, it was not done on purpose! I’m looking forward to writing these amazing nerds.

Also just a heads up, this is the first time I’ve written in literally years. It’s a little rough, but I know it’ll take me some practice to get back to where I used to be. I still hope that people will enjoy the read!

★彡

Urahara Kisuke:

He will definitely flirt with his crush, there’s no questioning that. Most likely he’ll keep it pretty PG-13, however his flirtation is incredibly embarrassing. “____-chan is a cutie~” “Oops that text was meant for someone else ;-)” Also yes, all of his emoticons will have noses. Don’t question it.

Speaking of embarrassing, he’ll bring up embarrassing stories to make his crush blush. Even if he can’t see it, he likes to know that they’re blushing because of him, it gives him pride. Also because he’s a tease. “Hey ____-chan, remember that time you...”

If his crush didn’t already know that he was into them, they definitely know now. Kisuke won’t be one to straight up confess, but it’s pretty easy to read between the lines. Also, Kisuke doesn’t text. If he’s texting someone than they’re definitely someone special to him.

His crush will end up receiving a few blurry pictures of random things that Kisuke sent by accident. A chair, his shoes, the stairs. If his crush tries to convince him to send a drunken selfie, they might just get lucky. Might.

Despite being drunk he’s pretty good at making sense and spelling correctly still. Then again, Kisuke’s always on his game, even when drunk. If his crush were to try to get him to spill any secrets or say something to make a fool of himself, they could forget it. Kisuke’s a smooth bastard.

Kurosaki Ichigo:

This poor boy will embarrass himself and swear off drinking forever the next day once he sees the texts he’s sent. He will promptly throw his phone out of the nearest window upon seeing what he had texted the night before. “Yoi know your kinds cute” “We shoukd hang iut sometime”. Yes, his texts look like a toddler learning how to spell sent them. Yes, he’s aware he used the wrong you’re.

He’ll keep losing his phone, end up panicking that his crush will think he‘s ignoring them, and trash his room looking for his damn phone. Oh shit, wait, it’s in his hand.

He’ll send a couple of drunk, blurry selfies. In one of the selfies Ichigo’s flashing a peace sign and his smile looks haphazard. If his crush is smart, they’ll use that one as their screensaver. “Now your tuen, send one bacj”. Ichigo will never forgive himself for making a fool out of himself.

Ask any question and Ichigo will answer with 100% honesty. Any question. The boy doesn’t know how to hold back when drunk.

His texts will stop abruptly because he fell asleep somewhere. Most likely in the bathroom.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez:

Horny. Flirty. Need I say more?

His crush will receive seductive pictures and videos from Grimmjow, there’s no stopping it unless they block him. He doesn’t care who around them might catch a glimpse either, this man has no shame, nor will he have any the next day either. “I showed you now you show me~” If he’s snapchatting his crush he’ll end up accidentally posting a nude to his story. And no, he won’t delete it either.

Not that Grimmjow is ever shy, but his crush will definitely know that he’s into them after a night of drunk texting. If his crush returns the feelings, they’ll be a thing before the night is over. “You’re mine now, got it?”

He’s easy to piss off—shocked? If his crush tries to embarrass Grimmjow or get him to embarrass himself he’ll end up giving them a call to let them know how he feels about that. Although his yelling is just a jumble of curse words and incoherence. Just don’t mess with Grimmjow when he’s drunk. He’ll end up in a fist fight with the first poor chap he runs into.

His phone will most likely end up lost or accidentally—or purposely—broken before the night is done with. If this happens, he figures he’ll just have to go to wherever his crush is and finish where he left off. Unfortunately, he’ll probably end up lost and have to begrudgingly mope back home.

No regrets.

Muguruma Kensei:

Gibberish. “Egdt is that tgat you werrr tekkibgg N.E. earkier? Tortellini”. He’ll be convinced that his phone is broken, why aren’t his thoughts making sense on text? Damn phone. Would end up making a fool out of himself if anyone could decipher what the hell his texts said. The next morning he’s nothing but grateful for his very ungraceful drunken texting fingers.

He’ll try to confess. Once again, his texts are unreadable. There’s no way his poor crush would be able to figure it out. “I kikr y p” “Table” “F /“. You’d think for someone who had spent so long in the human world that he’d be a little more adept with a cell phone. He’s not.

Kensei doesn’t like texting. He opts to try to call his crush instead but ends up typing their phone number into his calculator. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with his phone? Obviously it’s the phone’s fault, because he swears he’s not that drunk.

The next morning he‘ll want nothing more than to punch himself in the face. Kensei will end up avoiding his crush for a short while afterwards, not able to confront them after the shame that was that drunken night.

His crush will receive one and only one picture that night. It’s of Kensei giving a thumbs up. No, his face isn’t in it. Literally just his hand giving a thumbs up. What’s the thumbs up for? Nobody knows, not even Kensei.

#bleach scenarios #bleach imagines #bleach #anime #manga #grimmjow #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ichigo #kurosaki ichigo #kensei #muguruma kensei #urahara #urahara kisuke #scenarios #imagines #headcannons #bleach headcannons #reacts #anime scenarios #anime imagines #anime headcannons #drabbles

[greensaplinggrace]

ok another clack fic cuz cloud whump is the best and there’s never enough, so “please don’t cry” and “don’t ever do that again” from prompt list where cloud is still emotionally inept but zack is always there to help him feel and comfort him🥰🥰

Soooo...this took a very dramatic turn and I’m sorry! I actually have another version of this fic more along the lines of what you asked for in the works, so if you want me to tag you when I post it I can totally do that XD. I’m sorry it took me so long to complete this prompt! Life has been a bitch and I didn’t want to force it, you know?

“Please don’t cry” / “Don’t ever do that again.” (From This Here Prompt List)

*TW for violence and minor emetophobia

-If you want to send in a prompt, the guidelines are HERE and HERE!

---

Dusk has settled well over the city when the register rings shut for the final time that night. Sealing away the money he’d just counted should not be as satisfying as it is, but Cloud’s more than eager to end his shift. Eight hours is a misery but ten is exhausting, and every muscle in his body aches with the need for plush sheets and the warmth of his heating pad.

Today is Zack’s day off, which means he’s going to want to take the scenic route as he walks Cloud home, but there’s no way in hell Cloud is walking three miles today. He wants his binder off and his packing out. He doesn’t know why he’d thought packing on a busy Saturday was a good idea, but he’s starting to regret it.

Kicking the cup-holders into place, Cloud checks over the fridge and the oven before finally flicking off the last of the lights. There are some dishes still in the sink, but it’s only a couple of plates and a mug. Not enough to bother with, and hopefully not enough to piss Barret off come morning, though Cloud can never be too sure when it comes to the man.

Sometimes, he feels like Barret is warming up to him. Other times it’s like the man has an “I hate Cloud Strife” tattoo painted across his face. Cloud’s long since stopped trying to impress the guy in favor of actually being himself, and the recent response has been a whole bag of mixed signals. The only consolation is that he seems to hate Zack more. Which is why Zack has been permanently banned from visiting Cloud on morning shifts and instead been delegated to walking him home after closing. An entirely useless endeavor, considering Cloud can take care of himself, but Zack mostly does it to keep him company than out of some strange sense of duty, so he lets it slide.

A loud pounding on the door signals Zack’s arrival, and Cloud only makes another cursory sweep over the kiosk before hanging up his apron and grabbing his things from the back. As soon as he heads for the front door he sees Zack, face pressed to the glass and waving wildly, an eager smile splitting his face in two.

Warmth wells in Cloud's chest at the sight, along with a faint of tinge of exasperation at the other man's antics. He sighs and rolls his eyes enough for Zack to see it through the smudged windows, pushing the door open so hard it has him bouncing off the glass.

“Ow! Hey!” Zack huffs, rubbing at his nose with a pout, and Cloud casts him an unimpressed look.

“Tifa’s going to have your head for messing up her window.” The door shuts behind him with a bang, rattling against a gust of heavy wind, and Cloud burrows into his scarf with a shiver. He fumbles for the key with gloved fingers and uses his other hand to pull the scarf tighter, scowling into the soft fabric when Zack only grins.

“Don’t worry! She won’t ever know it was me.”

“Yes, she will.”

“Wh- how?! Nobody saw me.”

Cloud raises a brow at him before turning to the door, fighting with the lock for a good three seconds before it budges and clicks into place, and when he turns back around it’s to see an expression and complete and utter betrayal on Zack's face.

“You would tell her? About me, your own boyfriend? What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Tifa is my bro.”

“What, so does that mean I’m your hoe?”

Cloud’s lips twitch into a smile, and he hides his blush in the folds of his scarf as he grabs Zack’s hand and powers down the sidewalk. “Let’s go.”

“Yeesh! Calm the death grip, piña colada.”

“Absolutely not, Zack.”

“It’s a cute pet name.”

“It’s not a pet name at all.”

“Well, you’ve vetoed literally every real one in existence. I have to get creative.”

“There’s not a creative bone in your body, soldier.”

Zack tuts, tone suddenly serious in a way that has Cloud feeling guilty for snapping, and slows his walk drastically. He tugs at Cloud’s hand as he does so, and Cloud’s forced to either drop behind or risk losing him. Reluctantly, Cloud falls back. When he reaches Zack’s side, the other man is quick to give him a sideways look of concern. “You’re in a mood. Bad day at work?”

“It’s not a mood,” Cloud hisses, because the tension just won’t leave, heart pounding and ears ringing. Zack’s hand tightens around his for a while, thumb pressing into his palm until he’s gentling.

“I know,” Zack eventually says, “those were the wrong words. I’m sorry.”

Cloud glances away. “‘S fine.”

“Did something happen at work?”

“Just-” Cloud exhales loudly, pulling Zack closer as they turn a corner, “-long day. And a Saturday, so…”

“Your chest hurt?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, then how about we talk about the awesome day I had at my work!” Cloud hums his assent, leaning into Zack all the way as he relaxes into the sound of Zack’s voice. “A vet came in for Collie today, and they were the perfect match. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog and a woman fall in love faster in my life. I mean, I’ll be sad to see her go, but she’s still got regular checkups for a bit, so I can spend some time with her for a little while longer. Not to mention Cissnei is an amazing person. I mean, she’s rough around the edges - sure - but who isn’t?”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“Oh! She’s the vet. Just came back from a real bad tour and she needed a trainer with good ethics - that’s me - so she dropped by and almost instantly bonded with Collie. It was so heartwarming. Wait, I’ve got a picture here…She wouldn’t let me take a video but...”

Zack trails off as he searches for his phone, and as much as Cloud loves hearing about Zack’s passions, he takes a relieved breath of fresh air at the break. 

It’s quiet out. Cold and biting beneath a clear sky, and Cloud peers up to blink at the lack of stars and natural lighting. A thick glow isolates the moon above him, created by the ever present lights and sounds of the city, and he feels a longing pang for home. He tugs at Zack’s hand and leans even further into him, pressing his face against the warmth of Zack’s coat, and listens to the rising curses with a contented curl of amusement.

Maybe he won’t go straight to bed, after all.

Steps echoing down the abandoned inner roads, they turn another corner and start towards their apartments. He glances up at the other man through his lashes, reluctant to part completely and abandon Zack’s heat. Snuggling would be nice, he decides. Cradled in his boyfriend’s arms as they warm up beneath the covers. Maybe he could even convince Zack to give him a massage. 

Cloud hums, opening his mouth to ask if Zack would like to stay the night, but before he can so much as get a word out a bruising grip wraps around his wrist. All thoughts of home are wiped clean from his mind as he’s ripped from Zack’s arm with a startled yelp. He twists and drives his head viciously backwards into his attacker’s nose, only managing to feel a brief sense of satisfaction at the ensuing snap and scream before hard metal collides with his head in an excruciating explosion of pain. He gasps and chokes out a cry, legs buckling as his mind splinters in agony.

“Cloud!” Zack’s voice rings painfully in his ears as his hand is wrenched to the other side of his chest, an arm encircling him and pulling him back into another body.

He flinches at the feeling of a cool metal circle coming to rest against the side of his head, whimpering as he’s shaken violently, head flaring enough to make his stomach lurch. “Zack.” His voice cracks on the word as he blinks stars from his eyes, Zack’s wide blue eyes coming into view before the pure, unadulterated horror of his expression does. Cloud’s stomach lurches again and he heaves, struggling weakly against his captor’s grip.

“Hey!” The gun digs painfully into his skin as the man shakes him again. “Quit your damn struggling before I decide you ain’t worth my time.”

“No! No- don’t-” Zack sounds on the edge of panic, and something somewhere in Cloud’s hazy mind tells him he should comfort the man, but no words can find his lips. “Don’t hurt him, please. What do you want? I’ll give- I’ll give you anything, just-”

“No…”

“I said shut the hell up! You think I’m joking?”

“He’s- he’s out of it, man. Come on. Just tell me what you want. Don’t- don’t shoot him, please. Is it money? I’ve- I don’t have a lot, but- but it’s all yours. All of it.”

Cloud whines out a protest, awareness trickling back slowly. Zack is strapped for cash right now. He wouldn’t survive dumping all of his money. 

“Tell your bitch to shut the fuck up!”

“Hey, calm down man, okay? Here- here’s all of it just...” There’s a thump on the ground in front of them, and what ensues in the most excruciating and awkward bend in the history of Cloud’s life as the guy reaches for it, never once taking the gun from his head. Then there's a scoff, and Cloud knows - knows - what he’s going to say before the words even fall from his lips.

“You think this is enough? The hell do you take me for? Give me all of it!”

“That’s all I-”

“Does your boy have anything on him?” The man’s shaking now, voice wavering on the edge of hysteria, and the tremor of his gun has Cloud swallowing tears of fear. “‘Cause if he’s hiding nothin’-!”

“No, he’s fucking broke, just-”

“I saw you walkin’ along all comfortable! Give me your fucking phone and...and that necklace.”

Cloud’s stomach drops with the words, panic rising high and heedy in the back of his throat. The necklace - Angeal’s necklace. No way. No fucking way.

“Um...the- the necklace, right.” It’s weak and strained, Zack biting his lip to hold back tears, and something in Cloud’s heart breaks. 

“Don’t. Zack, don’t-” his words are cut off in a cry of pain as the gun comes back down on his head again, and there’s piercing, splitting noise like gunfire that has Cloud jumping, bucking against his captor in pure terror as Zack yells.

“Holy shit. What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I told him to stay fucking quiet! The next one goes through his head.” The grip tightens around Cloud until he can hardly move anymore, gasping for breath as the tears shake from his eyes. “Now give me the damn necklace. Now!”

“Okay..okay, I’m giving you the necklace.” Zack’s sounding really agitated now. In a different, very dangerous way that says he’s about to do something stupid, and the thump of Cloud's heart against his ribs is more deafening than the gunshot ever could be. 

Zack is going to endanger himself. Zack is going to do something. Cloud’s mouth feels gummy but he can’t move and he can’t speak and his head feels like it’s on fire. Through the blur of his tears he sees Zack shift, hand coming up to his neck, and he feels his captor freeze against him.

“What are those?”

“They’re my tags, man. They’re...completely worthless.”

“You were in the army?”

“Special forces.” The hard edge to his tone is enough to chill even Cloud, who’s known Zack for years and who’s seen him smile like the very heart of the universe itself. For his captor, it seems to have an even worse effect. One of high, panicked breaths and the uneasy waiver of his gun. 

Cloud sees Zack’s face harden before he charges. Sees him tense and move in the split second the gun is away from his head and it’s like the world comes crashing down around him. “Zack! Don’t-”

His voice breaks as he’s pushed aside, the breath forced from his lungs when he collides with the ground, head searing. A gunshot cracks through the air and there’s a shout, fists against flesh and another shot, this time with a scream, and Cloud tries desperately to push himself up and see what’s happening but the world spins sickeningly and he vomits onto the dirty concrete with a gut wrenching sob.

Then there’s silence. A loud thud that makes Cloud’s veins run cold and his stomach quiver again.

“Cloud.” A hand pushes through his hair, soft and gentle and Zack, and Cloud lets out a sob of relief. He collapses into Zack’s hold, shaking against his knees and encased in his arms, and claws desperately at the fabric of his pants. Burrowing his head into Zack’s thigh, Cloud sucks in a deep breath and exhales with the force of every line of tension wringing his energy dry.

“Zack,” he breathes, “Zack, you’re alive.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m so sorry, Cloud. I should never have let you get hurt like that, I- I- Hey…hey, please don’t cry.”

Cloud shakes his head and chokes out another sob, because God - God - he’d almost lost him. Almost lost Zack. And the tears won’t stop spilling from his eyes even as Zack runs a hand through his hair, up and down his back soothingly. Even as Zack curls around him like he’d never let Cloud go.

“You almost died- you almost-” and then there’s anger, stark and hot as he raises his wet face to glare at his stupid fucking boyfriend, “-don’t ever do that again.”

Zack smiles weakly, wiping at his own eyes with his shoulder, and the glint of his tags - the glint of Angeal’s necklace - makes Cloud’s shoulders seize again as a fresh wave of tears comes. He clenches his eyes to fight it and ducks his head down again, Zack’s words vibrating against his cheek as he speaks.

“I could say the same about you. Fuck, Cloud, I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, it’s true. It’s- It’s really, really true.”

Cloud lets that sink in for a second. “Oh.”

Zack cracks out a laugh, forced and loose and relieved all at once, and exhales as his shoulders droop with exhaustion. “Yeah, oh. Never again, Cloud.”

Cloud sighs and closes his eyes, letting the world take him.

“What about damsel in distress?”

Cloud opens his eyes again with the single minded purpose of burning a hole into Zack’s waist. “What do you think?”

“Eh…” Zack smiles nervously and scratches the back of his head. “Too feminine?”

“Too ridiculous.”

“I did just save your life.”

Cloud scoffs and doesn’t say anything for a while. Then, “you’re giving me a massage when we get back home.”

“Sweet Apple Pie, I’ll give you a thousand massages once we get back home. But we aren’t getting home until you’ve been to a hospital.”

“Ugh.” Cloud pulls a face, though for the pet name or the idea of a hospital, he doesn’t know.

Zack takes his response with the usual amount of grace. “You’re going to the hospital if I have to haul your ass there by the seat of your pants,” he huffs, “and I’ll call Tifa to make sure you don’t struggle.”

“We should probably call Tifa anyway.”

Zack sighs lengthily, petting a hand through Cloud’s hair as he tilts his head back to look at the sky, and Cloud relaxes into the touch with a pleased hum. There’s the occasional zing of pain when Zack skirts around the lumps on his head, but the pain fades into a dull background noise over time, as they sit and drift into the quiet of the night.

The ambulance arrives not two minutes later.

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