#and we literally just went to go see it on a fuckin. whim. we were driving by‚ looking for something to do‚ and saw that a random theater

[front-facing-pokemon]

#bonus extra forms under the cut #burmy #i guess it's not technically a Bonus but it is three images in one post. anyway why is trash-form burmy pink #i never understood this. i'd hear about trash form and go wow it must be like. black and brown with marks of trash all over it and cool #like trubbish. but they just made it pretty pink and cute. how? why? why would a creature that lives in the trash become bright pink #“that hot pink bitch is named breakfast” et cetera #i dunno. whenever i see burmy i think of that one clip from detective pikachu where it's just like #burmy! burmymymy! burmy… burmy :( and pikachu is like WOAH WHAT THE FUCK #i've never played detective pikachu. i should. i probably will go back and play the original once the one on the switch comes out #i saw the movie though. but i don't think that's. anywhere related to the games. to be honest. i also remember going and seeing it in #the theater and it was fucking. me‚ my mom‚ and one other parent/child duo and that's IT. NO one was there in the theater to see it #and we literally just went to go see it on a fuckin. whim. we were driving by‚ looking for something to do‚ and saw that a random theater #was showing detective pikachu. and we just said Fuck It. and it was cool but she kept asking me about every pokémon during the movie #and then it had that really weird ableist villain that was fucked up but the pokémon were cute

[bigbootychuuya420]

Loki season 2 episode 6 kicked. My. Ass.

Spoilers below the cut;

I have never burst into tears like that before, it was during loki taking all the multiverse threads or whatever and just waltzing his way on up that I just started bawling my eyes out. I didn’t even know what I was feeling, tears just started falling down my cheeks as I was just blown away. I found this episode was amazing, the pace awesome, the way Loki was owning his shit and doing everything to keep everyone safe awesome, the music and just everything technical that went into this episode, a w e s o m e.

The way they showed his delemma and his struggle coming to terms what he had to do, it was either let everyone he cared about and the entire multiverse die, or killing one of the only people he has ever felt a connection to in his life (cause while I don’t like the selfcest I do like how they were able to truly understand one another). Him going back to Mobius and asking him how to take comfort in killing and being told “there is no comfort, you just gotta chose which burden to carry” and so he choses the hardest option; sacrificing himself so that everyone he loves lives and is able to live the lives they want with nothing holding them back (and a nice bonus being everyone in the multiverse gets freedom, but we know WHO he was doing it for) but giving into his greatest fear of being alone. He chose the struggle of having to stay behind and keep everything in order so that the people he loves gets a chance while damning himself to a literal eternity alone. Cause idk about you but I don’t think anyone’s getting to him any time soon, idek where HE is. The old “he who remains” spot probably? But that’s a huge ass tree man Idk…Also the music, tension, lighting and just everything with that scene felt so powerful and made me really feel like “oh shit this is it??”

And the way his sacrifice SHOWED AFTER!? The change from the mechanical vibes of everything just doing what needs to be done, the path always being paved, no freedom into a living breathing thing where it’s shown that Loki has made it so the mindset is to help the multiverse grow and to nourish it. It was beautiful, and just the change from the war room having like what 3 ppl? With one being stuck in the last, one asleep, and the one who actually was like yeah let’s move forward with fuckin freedom?? To a whole ass room of people being busy and showing to actually out in effort to make this work and allowing there to be freedom and no genocides (is that the right word?) happening just because someone stepped on the wrong leaf. After season 1 being filled with this oppressing air of a bureaucracy, there being an almighty and those who carry out their every whim without questions, it was so refreshing to see that there’s actual life to it now. All because of my BABY 😭😭

And then there’s Mobius’s scene, where after the entire season, if not the entire series, of him saying that he’s okay with what he has and how he just wants to focus on the now, to the how he’s scared he’ll see something good and have the temptation to go and try to live it for himself, he finally lets go. After Loki’s gone (ig there’s still gonna be a jet ski unused 😔😔), he’s just shown waiting around, finally ready to see his life on the time line and finally take his life fully into his hands. The MUSIC!! THE LIGHTING!! THE SOUND!! All of it was like a punch to the gut cause he just was gonna stand there and let time pass, im gonna sob my fucking eyes out AGAIN!! He finally is just able to live and breath, take his time looking at what he was protecting without the constant stress of the job waging on him, finally at peace after like 500+ years!!! And omg, his story about how he used to be a hunter but was too scared of killing a kid even though they were gonna be the cause of 5000 deaths was so beautifully done, I just felt like it reinforced how he was always the outliner of the TVA, his wake up moment after probably centuries of just doing his job. God he is just so JAMSKDNALS Y!KMKW!? LOVE THAT GUY!!

I also just loved all the characters this season, everyone felt so charming and I loved everyone. Tho I still have a love/hate relationship with sylvie, but after rewatching s1 im leaning more to the love side. Cause she just sticks to her ideals and she’s like traumatized so can I really say anything? She’s cool af, bad ass for sure!! And I’VE LOVED LOKI FROM THE START, 2012 (DIDNT WATCH THE THOR MOVIES) - TO NOW BBY!! Tho after seeing some edits I think ima watch them all, apparently they’re like, hidden gems. Or only some ppl like em ig?? Anyways, no one’s probably gonna read this cause it’s just a recap of well, everything rather then an actual me feeling shit, but if you made this far thanks!! Have a wonderful day!! Or night!!

#loki series #loki season 2 #loki laufeyson #loki spoilers #mcu loki #loki #lokius #??? #i mean #not really but I’ll just say yeah #cause while I’m not crazy crazy about them Mobius is literally a single dad with 2 jet skis #is the symbolism any clearer? #loki show #Loki season 2 episode 6 #sorry for my yapping but literally no one Ik fucking watches this and I needed somewhere to just blurt out all my feelings #I’ve genuinely never had a show finally make my have my jaw dropped for 90% of it and then just start crying out of nowhere because the #climax (ending?) was so powerful #it was so bitter sweet #loki odinson #loki of asgard #my bby #my pride and joy #his character development just showed how all he needed was to be met with encouragement and understanding for him to finally feel free to #be himself and not what people perceived him as #ANYWAYS SORRY IM FEELING IT BUT ILL STOP NOW #BYEEEEE

[aellynera]

An Off Day (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

AN OFF DAY

(okay, look. my husband thought he was being funny and said “give me a character and i’ll give you a scenario” and then i snorted laughing and then...well. this happened. set sometime before the events of the movie.)

((shoutout to @anetteaneta for an important bit of info and @tinygaydemonbby​ for the random chat and another key bit.))

Word Count: 2100(ish)

Summary: It’s your day off and you’re just trying to enjoy it. Nathan is working and he’s trying to enjoy it. It doesn’t at all go the way you imagined.

Warnings: Cursing. Banter. Robot sex (not graphic). Personal injury. Innuendo. Propositions. Nudity. Complete and utterly ridiculous trash. Possible typos. Nathan Bateman.

The absolute magnificence of the Alaskan landscape was something that, quite frankly, you were never going to get used to. The trees, tall and majestic, towering over the lush green grass. The river, crisp and pristine, bubbling its way to the immense waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and eventually made its way into the ever-vast ocean. The bald eagles that would soar from treetop to treetop, even the occasional moose that would make itself known at the edges of the compound and then disappear like ghosts into the forest beyond.

It was otherworldly.

The occasional twig snapped and leaf crunched under your boots as you hiked along your usual trail along the north side of the property. Today’s air felt cool on your cheeks despite the sun overhead; at least it was summer - technically, even if the temperature wasn’t getting much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit these past few weeks - so you had twenty hours of daylight instead of the twenty hours of darkness in winter.

You found your favorite spot on a nearby rock and perched on the smooth surface, tilting your face up to that glorious, shining orb. This really was what you needed right now.

*ding!*

...And that was really what you didn’t need. Definitely not right now, and probably not later either. Speaking of otherworldly.

Your boss was a difficult man, and you had a strange rapport with him that was irritating on a daily professional basis, and to your dismay, increasingly so on a personal level. To be fair, you were the only two humans out here. To also be fair, your boss was kind of annoyingly hot.

You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen.

God: Where the fuck are you?

God? What the… You were annoyed by the text, but more annoyed by the name. When the hell did that bastard changed his name in your phone? He was insufferable on the best of days, but this was a new low. A new high? You weren’t really sure. Sighing, you shot a text back.

You: It’s my day off.

God: You know that’s not really a thing here right?

You: It is when I need a break from you.

God: I’ll make it up to you.

You: Unless you’re asking me to dinner, I don’t want to hear it.

You groaned. You really didn’t mean to say that.

The little ellipses that showed he was typing back flashed across the screen several times, then stopped. Then popped back up, and stopped again. And just because your boss was your boss, it did it four more times, but still no response.

You shoved your phone back in your jacket pocket and returned your attention to the river, breathing deeply and watching the water swirl around a pile of rocks on the opposite bank.

*ding!*

Dammit.

God: I need you to come back like right now.

You: I’m not gonna sit around and be your Eliza Doolittle today, Nathan.

You weren’t just saying that. Last week, the man had dragged you, literally, into the lab by your elbow and had you repeat vowel sounds and random words extremely phonetically while holding a pulsing orb of glowing blue goo. He claimed it was some kind of brain training. You’d said it wasn’t part of your job description, but honestly, it probably was. You were there to assist, you were there to manage, you were there to occasionally have a satisfyingly intelligent and non-arrogant conversation, and you were mostly there to make sure Nathan Bateman didn’t blow anything up or burn anything down.

That didn’t necessarily mean you liked any of it. Okay, fine, you kind of liked the assisting part and definitely the intelligent conversation part. But it was your day off, and all you wanted to do was not be in the house.

God: What? No, it’s...I just need your help with something.

You: Nathan. It. Is. My. Day. Off. No assistance today. Bother me tomorrow.

God: ...Please?

That gave you pause. Since when did he actually ask for anything politely?

You: Fine. I’m halfway up summit trail, give me like 20.

God: Make it 10.

You:  Asshole.

God: And bring a bag of frozen peas.

What the actual hell.

You blinked at the screen twice, turned your phone off completely, and started back towards the house.

*****

You didn’t know why you paid the slightest bit of attention to Nathan’s request, but once in the house, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling a bag of frosty legumes out of the freezer. With it in hand, you made your way to the lab.

Nathan hadn’t told you where he was, but you knew where to find him. He was always in the lab.

“Okay, I’m back,” you called out as you pushed through the door to Nathan’s inner sanctum. “Now what is so damn important that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Nathan’s voice called out. “Do you have the stuff?”

You glanced around suspiciously. You couldn’t see him. Until you came around the side of the long table in the middle of the room and found him. Your eyes widened at the sight of Nathan, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sweating and vaguely shaking.

And totally naked.

He glanced up as he saw your shoes approached and weakly raised his arm and made a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

Tossing the frozen vegetables to him, your mouth opened and closed several times, trying to process the scene. Before you could really take it all in, you watched as Nathan reached over his shoulder, grabbed his discarded t-shirt, and wrapping the icy bag in the shirt, placed it directly on his crotch.

“All right,” you finally got out, “what the actual hell is going on?!”

“Ohhhhh,” Nathan moaned as the cold compress made contact with his skin. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“Why are you naked?” you yelled at him.

“There was a malfunction,” he replied, nonchalant as if you were simply discussing the weather.

You just gaped at him. This was definitely not in your job description.

“A malfunction,” you repeated.

Nathan made a feeble gesture at the table. It was covered in metal parts and wires, screwdrivers and other things you assumed were robotic but couldn’t recognize. He had been working a new body build for the past few days, that much you knew. But now there were metal bits everywhere and Nathan was bare as the day he was born, sprawled in the middle of the floor. Your eyes scanned the table again; the biggest object, in the middle of the mess, looked sort of like...oh, you did not like where this was going. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I may have miscalculated the required tension,” Nathan said, still curled up on the floor.

The required...oh hell no.

“Nathan...you know you’re the literally the smartest person I know, and you know I think you’re brilliantly creative and inventive and all that important stuff, but please, please tell me you were not actually doing what I think you were doing,” you muttered.

“I was working!”

“You know I can just check the security footage, right?” you stared him down.

Nathan looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I had to test it and make sure it worked.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Why does a robot have to have working...parts?!” As soon as you asked, you wished you hadn’t. This idiot genius actually had the nerve to blush. Slightly. He would never admit it, but his ears definitely got pinker than they’d been a few seconds ago.

Nathan sat up suddenly and glared at you, adjusting the ice pack again - thank the heavens - to keep himself covered. “First of all, it’s not a robot, it’s an AI. There’s a big difference. And second of all, we talked about this. The point is to make it as human as possible, so this particular part was necessary.”

The glare you shot back at him could have melted his current loincloth. It was your day off and Nathan couldn’t even leave you be for one whole day without his compulsion to cater to whatever whim was in his head and get under your skin. You dropped into one of the lab chairs.

“So...let me get this straight,” you sighed. God help you. But not the God in your cell phone, because he could go fuck himself. Or get fucked. Whichever.

Suddenly, through your haze of utter exasperation, what you’d just thought clicked into place and you snorted a laugh. Your eyes flashed over to the thing in the middle of the table. It was definitely shaped like a pelvis.

Nathan’s eyes became daggers. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

Your eyes went to the thing on the table and to his hands, and then back again. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried not to laugh again. It didn’t work. “Sorry. Um. So...what you’re saying is...you got injured because you were...fucking a robot pelvis.”

“I should fire you,” Nathan grumbled.

“And you got injured - from fucking a disembodied robot pelvis -”

“I am so going to fire you.”

“...because it was too...tight?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for your help. I should have just let myself die here, naked and unsatisfied.” He flopped back down.

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. Your laughter rang through the lab, a mixture of actual amusement and horrified reality. You snorted again and that made you laugh harder. Nathan had always joked about making a sex robot. Well, you thought he had been joking, but now, clearly not - and he’d hurt himself in the actual process of trying to make sure it worked. You weren’t a monster, you hoped he wasn’t truly actually injured, but you also took a little satisfaction in knowing karma existed.

After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes and looked down at him. Nathan stared back, but you could see the start of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I miscalculated the tension. It was fine--”

“Until it wasn’t?” you wheezed.

“--until it cut off all the circulation to my dick.”

You bit your lip. “Nathan Bateman. You literally cockblocked yourself.”

He didn’t respond right away. But then he spoke, at the same moment you noticed the smirk on his face fully bloom and what you’d come to call his “up to some bullshit” look glimmer in his eyes.

“Are you gonna come help me or not?”

“Excuse me?” You were fairly certain your eyebrows could not go any farther up your forehead.

“Well, I’m not in excruciating, unimaginable pain now, and I’d like to make sure my dick isn’t going to fall off. And I didn’t finish. Need a little help here.”

“You want me to--” you stuttered.

“Un-cockblock me,” his wolfish smile broke out fully now.

You hurled a pen at his head. “You really are an asshole.”

“I admit,” he continued, easily dodging your projectile, “this wasn’t what I was expecting for the first time you saw me naked, but I’ll work with what I got.” He started to remove the ice pack.

Another pen went flying his way. “You know, I’m just going to pretend that you’re not about to flash me with your mechanically impaired penis, and that you didn’t just proposition me, and I’m leaving this room now,” you said, standing up and shaking your head.

“Baby, you’re just gonna leave me hanging here?” he grinned, stretching back out on the floor. He folded his hands behind his head. The t-shirt wrapped bag of frozen peas remained - now perched rather proudly, you noted - on his groin.

A vexed growl left your lips as you walked towards the lab door. “Leaving now!”

“Well could you at least toss me my pants?”

You glanced down. Nathan’s sweatpants were balled up behind the lab door. How they’d gotten all the way over here...nope. Nope. You decided that information was entirely unnecessary.

You threw his pants at him and they hit him in the face with a satisfying whump.

“You sure I can’t convince you to help me out here?” Nathan asked serenely from under the fabric.

He couldn’t see the small smile on your face as you walked out the door. Thank god. Or...God. Whatever. The man was a menace.

“Ask me to dinner,” you called over your shoulder.

“I’ll text you,” he called back.

God.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @rosemarysbaby13 @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @itspdameronthings @poedjarin @spider-starry @tinygaydemonbby @writefightandflightclub @woakiees @veuliee2 @yourbucky084​

(taglist open, click here to join if you’d like)

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #fanfic #oscar isaac characters #my writing

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 8

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Alfie takes Mae out to celebrate a milestone in her magical work. It turns into an evening of deep conversation and bonding, learning about one another.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural.FLUFF. Bonding. Talk of being soul mates. Support/Love. Talk of confidence issues and mild bad memories.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

“Go throw something on that makes you feel like celebratin’ and we’ll go out ‘n do just that.”

It was a simple enough request. But one Mae was having a hard time with. She watched the grass and soul gather in the antique tub's drain, washing the sweat from the sun off her warm brown skin. Wiggling her yellow-painted toes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the sense of anxiety building and give the many potted and ivy plants in the bathroom a good dose of co2.

She stood before her full-length mirror in her room whose colors all deep jewel tones made her feel at peace. A mix of malachite, amethyst, and a pop of color with citrine soothed her as she adjusted her dress. Mae wasn’t the “going out” type. Like most, she had a dress that had been dormant in her closet for ages. The one that you bought on a whim when you had some manic episode where you swore you’d start going out and dating and having fun like everyone said you should. But it just sat in the back of your closet. A reminder of money wasted and goals not met.

She frowned, her dark curls against her shoulders only covered by the thin straps of the bold red dress. Her hands moved across her body, a pudge to her stomach, her hips wide from her pear shape and her breasts barely enough to fill out the cups of the dress. It reminded her of the “hot girl” dresses in 90s movies from when she was younger. Cinched in a baby doll cut and the rest hugging her body in a way she was unfamiliar with showing off. Her denim cut-offs and a tank or shop t-shirt were her go to outfits. She never purposely dressed up to seem more attractive, it was function over fashion for her at this point in her life. The last time she’d gotten “dressed up” had been when Ruth and Nancy set her up with a “nice boy” from their church. What a bust that had been.

She let herself take a deep breath to gather what confidence she could and it only deflated into a sigh. She let her head fall back and made silent protests with clawed hands and an angry face before stomping and glaring at her reflection. Why couldn’t she just feel...good? She was a so-called powerful witch but all she saw looking back at her was an unsure girl. Not the confident woman she wished she was. Her chest aches a bit, a pit in her stomach as sadness came and went, flashes of failed attempts at dates and moments others killed her hard work at feeling confident in one single comment.

“Okay…” she exhaled forcefully. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” She flops her hands to her hips and decides maybe a cardigan would be an acceptable addition to the outfit. She could cover up a bit, but it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide. Yeah. That’d work. She found comfort in the extra layer, adjusting it over her cleavage as she exited her bedroom.

Alfie stood relaxed and confident as always. He looked up to her, hazy blue eyes under a heavy brow of ginger tinged hair. He blinks slowly and watches her unsure movements. He could very literally see the dark haze of uncertainty around her but only a blind man couldn’t see how shy she felt.

“Why’ve ya got a sweater on? It’s blazin' out.” Alfie asks with a furrowed brow as he sees her usually sunny disposition missing.

“If you think it’s hot now I have some bad news about the summers in the south.” she answers back, a clear deflection.

“I know it’s hot enough to melt ya bollocks to your leg down ‘ere but that’s not what I asked now was it?”

Her face falls into a defensive expression. “It’s part of the outfit.” she says and averts her eyes from his.

“Mae. Now, what would be the point in lying to me? When I don’t even have to get into that noggin of yours to read it.”

“None I guess.”

“So why are ya?”

“Because I don’t wanna get into it,” she states with an attitude-filled head shake. “I’m just trying to...get through this night out you wanted to do.”

“Nope.” he says with a clap of his hands and moves her over to the couch. He squats in front of her and stares her down. “We don’t lie to each other Mae. Not only is it pointless it serves no purpose for growth. And that’s why we’re together. So I’ll ask again.”

“Just read my mind if you wanna know so bad. Since you can just poof everything into existence without trying.” she snaps back.

“You’re acting like a teenager, Mae. You’re a grown woman.”

She glares at him because he’s right. “I’m wearing it because I want to hide. Is that what you want to hear?” she blurts out.

“The truth yes but I never want you to feel poorly.” he pats her knee. “Why?”

She huffs out, feeling her face be red with embarrassment and hurt and anger. “Because I don’t… I’ve never worn this and it’s tight and I’m not… I don’t wear things like this because it’s something hot girls wear and I’m not that.”

“No, you are not.”

His eyes blink and go wide at his response.

“You are a beautiful woman. Not some slaggy young thing. You are of substance. Of...principal and power.” He sees the tears prickle up in her eyes from her rush of emotions. “You also look lovely in that dress. Red suits you. It’s a shame a woman like you would lack confidence when you owe the world nothing. You gracing these mortals with your visage is a gift they do not deserve.”

“You’re just being full of shit now Alfie.” she groans.

“No. No Mae darling I am not. I said no lies did I not? I stand by that.” he raises her chin with his calloused index finger. “I understand that your big big soul is feeling lots of things in this little human body of yours. I know you’ve been hiding it from me and I commend you for trying to handle it all on your own. But the purpose of us existing my love is to NOT have to deal with these burdens alone. Now tell Alfie what is wrong so he may mend it.” he leans in to kiss her forehead and hug her. It was too much for her little heart to handle. “Let it out little one.” he shushes as she sniffles and pretends she doesn’t want to sob and wail.

“I just feel so… boring. So not confident and I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. Nothing is where I want it. I don’t look how I should. I don’t-” she hiccups and he wipes away her tears.

“Says who? Who told you you had to look any certain way? Some old rich white man behind a desk who doesn’t give a shit about you and only wants your sorrow to make more money off of things you don’t need based on self-hate? Who do these negative emotions serve eh? Not you. And you are all you have to be concerned with. You are as you are. As you are is how you should be. There is no “supposed to” in reality, Mae love. There is only a culture that hates women. And you are so very fuckin' far above their standards and expectations I cannot even begin to tell you. You are otherworldly. A soul full of sunshine and vulnerability. Things most humans hide from. You are growing and with that comes those damned waves of emotions. This is why we do the shadow work, yeah? We accept all parts of us, and release what no longer serves us? I’m not just talkin’ out me arse love. I promise.”

“You...really?” she sniffles.

“Not to force any standards of beauty upon you my darling little sunspot but you are the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered and will ever encounter. To me you are perfection and I hope one day to make you see that as well.”

She begins to cry again and he takes her back into his arms. “You’re so nice to me-ee-e.” she stutters.

“Only honest pet. You created life with your thoughts today Mae bug!” he squeezes her upper arms. “You are so powerful. And you’ve barely scratched the surface. Now let's dry those tears, right? Let’s take off this shroud of negativity you call a jumper.” he chuckles and takes it off her and then pats her cheeks with it.

“It’s a sweater you cockney bastard.” she lets out a giggle that he answers with an amused snort.

“There she is.” he bops her on the nose. “A smart mouth and cheeky disposition was something I always did favor in a woman.” he muses and helps her up from the couch. “And you are a clever little thing. Far too smart to feel so low about yourself.”

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

“Now chin up pumpkin. We are going to go out and have a wonderful time, yeah? Celebrate your progress and the simple fact it is a beautiful evening and we just so happen to exist at the same time. That’s enough cause for a drink and a good meal.”

“You’re… very good with words.” she says as he fusses with her curls and wipes away any running mascara from her eyes.

“Thank you. Ol’ cockney bastard like me has to have something going for him, eh?” he grins.

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

Mae sat back and enjoyed the breeze in Alfie's antique car that resembled more of a boat to her. It was long, a bit excessive but it did suit him. Something quirky for a man that looked like some sort of mystical cult leader in dress and charm. He could feel the calm around them now. The late evening air humid but the breeze made it tolerable. With her head laid back in a nest of curls and her eyes closed the golden light of the sunset highlighted the round highs of her face. A round heart-shaped face with doll eyes and high cheek bones and a button nose sat in the middle of all the delicate softness. He smiles softly, glancing over and seeing her take in the day's last touch of sunlight as it sets.

“You seem to be doing better.” he speaks softly and pats her knee to break her from her half-hearted moment of meditation.

“I am.” She answers softly.

“You seem like the type to enjoy solitude and silence more than the company of others.”

“Yeah. When I was young I wanted to have ‘my’ people so bad. My own little group. But then I got used to being alone. Now I prefer it.”

“When other's lower vibrations drain your energy it’s hard to want to be around that. We can work on shielding. But tonight is about a good time. What is a good time for you Mae? What is that moment you just sit and relish in and appreciate?”

She tilts her head in thought. Blinking slowly she tries to find her happy place. “In the morning on Sundays. I’ve slept well and have the day off. I’ve got my favorite mug and I’m in my little spot in the sunroom. It’s raining and Percy is asleep on the bench. My music is playing in the kitchen. Outside is quiet and all you hear is the rain. You can forget you live around people on those mornings. Everything foggy and dewy and the sheets of rain run off the glass ceiling.” She lets out a content exhale. “That’s my favorite time.”

“Lovely innit. Life’s simple pleasures.” He mused and scratches his chin. “I believe I can work with that.” He nods. “I know a little hidden beer garden I believe you might enjoy. We'll go there.”

“A beer garden?”

“Yeah.” He says obviously and confused by the questioning inflection in her voice.

“What’s that?”

He turns and blinks rapidly at her for a moment before looking to the road. “You dont-?” His brows furrowed in question. “You don’t know what a beer garden is?”

“Would I be askin' if I did?”

He lets out a small snort of amusement. “‘Spose not. A pub-a bar outdoors. This one's in the old part of the city.”

“I don’t go there much because of the tourists.”

“No tourists where we’re going. Not exactly Bourbon street.”

“So an outside bar? Do they call those beer gardens? Weird.”

“Well, I think you not having tea in every restaurant is weird.”

“We got sweet tea.” She grins.

“We are not having this argument again Mae. That abomination is NOT tea. It’s sugar water in a cowboy hat.”

She lets out a giggle that warms him, recalling an almost argument on sweet tea and good British char one night before bed. Mae didn’t see what the big deal was. But she was promptly informed by Alfie it’s because she was a bloody yank so she never would.

————————-

The place he took her was off the beaten path. A small old white building with a courtyard in the middle with small iron tables and canopies. It was quiet and rustic and full of plants along the walls and in decorative planters. It felt green and wet and lush and alive and she felt oddly at home. A gentlemanly pulling out of her chair before he sat, his crystal pendants glinted in the sun around his neck. They lay at the edge of his vest, a dark and worn fabric over his usual worn in white button ups.

“Order whatever you like darlin' this is a treat for you.”

“I’m gonna order sweet tea.”

“Cheeky bugger.” he smirks and keeps his eyes on the menu.

“I’m not sure.” She says quietly.

“When I say order what you like I do mean you could order the whole fuckin' thing.”

She blinks and thinks a moment. “What if I actually did?” Her big curious eyes have a smile to them as she looks his way.

“I wouldn’t have to worry bout cookin' dinner for a tick then would I?” He answers with a playful nod her way. “I think I’ll go with seafood.” He says after a long pause. “No point in wastin' bein so close to the water eh? Perhaps calamari to start. Fried, of course, because you lot can’t just leave things be.”

“Never had that.”

“Hmmph. Guess you will be tonight.” He affirms with a nod.

“We could get the variety appetizer. I haven’t tried escargot either.”

“A day of firsts calls for a night of the same.” He declares confidently to her. “We are here for you Mae. Indulge.”

———————————

They sit among multiple plates and drinks, the frosted glass of the table growing cool as the sun sets and the garden lights and music turned on. A little candle was lit on the table for “ambiance” the waitress said with a wink. Mae tried to hide a blush but ALfie felt the ruffle of energy come from her and hid an amused smirk.

“Can I have some of your-?”

“Yes, of course, scoot ya bum over here.” Alfie chuckles and pulls her chair next to him. With their arms pushed together she lets out a small but audible content sigh. She continues to pick at his appetizers and he at hers. A vibrating calm between them as they touch.

“Nice innit?”

“It’s really good.” Her answer is muffled by the food in her mouth.

“The food is yes but not what I meant.”

“Wat.” She says with stuffed cheeks and wide questioning eyes.

“This.” He holds his hand out palm up on the table.

She looks at it and blinks.

In his head, he hears. “What the fuck?” And he laughs.

“Put your hand over mine Mae bug.” He chuckles as he holds her hand a few inches above his own. She holds in and swallows, she gives a small shiver in response. He touches his fingertips to hers.

“It tickles.” She giggles and slaps his hand.

“Not into tickling?”

She shrugs. “Not really? Not really had it done before.”

“How’s bout this?” He asks with a nod of his head, lacing their fingers together and resting

“Mmm.” She hums and smiles at him. “That you or the alcohol?”

“Can’t take credit completely. Can’t feel it myself without you.” He says it matter of factly but he feels the sentimental response like warm honey through his veins.

She studies his face a moment and then their hands, taking her time and connecting and disconnecting, tips then palms, moving to put as much skin to skin as she can. With their arms and shoulders pushed against one another, she speaks softly in realization, “It's when we touch.”

He makes a grunt of agreement. “What’s it feel like for you?” His curiosity gets the better of him.

“It’s...good.” She says after a pause.

“You can be more descriptive than that.” He scolds playfully.

“Than what’s it like for you?” She sass's back and takes a drink with her free hand.

“There was a place...long long ago I lived alone. Which is what I preferred. I got away from my old life, a pipe dream to be sure. But it was the happiest I had been before...this life. Feels like that relief. But without the loneliness.” He looks at her and she once again has tears in her eyes. “Oh come now love do your eyes ever dry?” He laughs and dabs at her cheeks.

“That’s better than I could ever put it.” She says and smiles. A sniffle and she squeezes back. “It’s our souls right? They missed each other this much? It’s like I feel warm down into my bones.”

“We missed you more than even my silver tongue can express.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve missed you too. Because this feels…” she smiles sweetly and puts her head on his shoulder, only feeling more contentment. “Feels right.”

“Like morning sunshine. Warm and dare, I admit,  happy.”

“Probably Like a good hug or like when Ruth makes me a pie when I’m sad.”

“I do suppose that would be rather good.”

“The best.” She smiles as she rests her cheek on him. “Man… people are missing out. This is like drugs.” She softly laughs.

“Why did you say it's probably like a good hug? Odd way to put it.”

“Well… people say hugs from people you love or miss are the best.” She pauses. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those.” She admits.

“I admit I don’t know how you aren’t beloved by everyone. A sunspot like yourself should know of everything good and pleasurable in life. You deserve only the best Mae. And if I can help it I’ll help you feel the love you’ve deserved. Show you how to open up. You are a white witch after all, you radiate love.”

“Guess it’s all going out and not stayin' in” she mumbles and gives him a half-smile. It was a rather good observation.

“So many things you haven’t done yet” Alfie muses as he feels her inexperience in her thoughts.

“I can… feel you up in there.” She pulls away and shakes her head, curls bouncing. She shivers. “That’s so strange I can… feel you in there now.”

“You’re learning how to.”

“It kinda… feels like you’re scratching an itch in my brain.”

“Because I mean no harm, only help.”

“Does it hurt if a bad person is trying to get in my head?”

“For a sensitive little bean like yourself, I would assume so. It’s all about intention. As I’ve said. I see loneliness and fear of missing out and I want to alleviate it. So with good intention brings good feeling.”

“What are you seeing?”

“I don’t want to upset you, darling.”

“It’s my head it won’t upset me.” she snorts.

“I see you alone at a school dance. On the bleachers. Watching everyone else dance together.”

“Yeah. That is a bit upsetting.” She shrugs. “But a long time ago.”

“It was...the first time you felt a real romantic rejection and alienation.” He squints his eyes as he saw a small underdeveloped Mae in an out of style hand me down dress hiding tears as a boy she thought might’ve liked her looked at her and laughed with his date that was the opposite of what she looked like.

“Yeah… it got easier after that.”

“Shutting out everyone else isn’t easier Mae it’s self-sabotage.”

“Well.” She says thoughtfully. “It made it hurt less.”

He looks down at her with understanding. She was so full of life and emotion and she was robbing herself from fear and it made him sad for a moment to see her potential being stunted due to the hateful actions of others. “I’m here to show you how to master your emotions to unlock your potential, love.”

“That sounds...exhausting.” She looks down at his hand and rubs its embrace with her thumb.

“Nah. We can start small.” He insists with a look around. “Let’s start by checkin' something off your list.” He implores as he begins to rise.

“Like what?”

“I’m going to give you that dance.” He states obviously

“I don’t...I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I?” He laughs. “It’s about the experience. With it grows your confidence. It’s simple, I’ll show you.”

“I know HOW I just…” she glances around. “I don’t wanna in front of people.” She whispers

“I can fix that. Make it so no one notices us.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do most things you could ever imagine.” She looks around the small courtyard and weighs her options. He stood with a steady hand outreached .”I could even SHOUT ABOUT HOW ICED TEA IS SHIT...and no one can hear.” He grins.

Her eyes go wide but see's no one even glances their way as she rises to her feet. “Are we invisible?”

“No, just an illusion of the mind.”

“Can I be invisible?” She asks as he pulls her to the open center of the patio space.

“I can show you how to be very elusive. Although I don’t know why you would want to be.”

“Because I’m shy. Crippled with anxiety. Full of trauma. Where do you want to start?” She answers honestly but with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with this.” He pulls her close and minds his hands to keep it PG. She was skittish enough without adding physical affection to the mix.

She slowly gives in to his affectionate embrace. A simple back and forth and distanced as she’d wanted in her memory. He can feel the remnants of hurt the memory left around her, her yellow energy turning blue. “I know it means nothing when a man says these sorts of things, and only time will prove it to be true but you don’t have to worry about me rejecting your true self Mae. You do know that?” She looks up at him, knowing she must’ve been very bad at hiding her fear. “As cliche as it is we were made for each other and I have no intentions of abandoning this partnership.” He pauses and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I know love it seems like everyone has left you that’s said that. But I won’t yeah?” He gives her cheek a gentle playful stroke.

“Thank you. For trying to help me.” She says softly, feeling a warmth that wasn’t from the summer evenings still wet heat. “For being nice while I’m… still all...fucky.” She grins and lets out a soft laugh. “I know I’m grown but I feel like such a child sometimes. I’m kinda glad you can read my mind because with feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in there sometimes.”

“You’re going through a...magical puberty Mae and you’re doing wonderfully. I only celebrate things worth it and today-and your work was. Excess innit? Folks like us aren’t meant to be about it. It’ll go to our heads.”

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Your powers are just beginning and you’ll grow as they do. You’ll come to understand yourself and the things you’ve been through as lessons. You have so much power within you little one you’ll be astounded one day looking back at your life before. We have so much to gain, and it’s worth these emotional outbursts your human self insists on having.”

“You make everything sound so fancy and purposeful.”

“It’s just the age and accent dear.” he grins.

“You’re very wise.” She insists with big soft eyes. “I’m glad you’re my person. I need someone to keep things straight like you do.” She leans in and hugs him but doesn’t pull away.

He smiles down at her, a flutter in his stomach for this small gentle creature being accepting of him despite the dark monstrosity he had fancied himself for so long. “You’re too kind Mae.” He places a kiss on her bouncy head of curls and settles into a comfortable embrace.

She sighs and surprisingly to him cozies up to his chest. “I like these Feel Good drugs” she grins as he holds his hand to her bareback with her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Course. Always will be.” they both feel it warm and encompassing them both. A moment of being on the same page and the barriers between them thin.

———

They stuffed themselves on seafood and local beef and ease was between them now that hadn’t existed before. A bit of honesty went a long way with Mae. Her nature was very trusting in general and optimistic, so Alfie's reassurance left her feeling much more relaxed than she had in a long while. Alford was practiced at restraint as Mae was not. So he could not only feel but see in her eyes as they parted for the night to go to their rooms that she didn’t want to separate. He found it very endearing of her to want him around. He would as always have her make her own choices in her own time. Make her ask for the things she wanted. So instead of making the giant step of sleeping in the same bed, platonically, mind you, he simply whispered a soft intention as she snuggled into her own bed and yearning for that comfort he gave her now.

“Sleep well little one and may the morning find you as sunny as it.”

She hears him in her head and sighs, a happy one this time.

“Goodnight Alfie.” She murmurs, trying to send the thought his way and not knowing if she succeeded. But she had.

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   ​ @peakys-mystic @likedovesinthewnd​

#alfie solomons au #alfie solomons fan fiction #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic

[capsgirl19]

wait I wanna hear about the gay subtext and wasted potential of teen beach 2

Okay, strap in because I don’t do elevator pitches. Major spoilers for Teen Beach Movies 1&2. And a readmore because this is LONG!

SO. Idk if this is a common observation, but it seemed fairly obvious to me that Lela fell hard in love with Mack over the course of the first movie. She felt trapped by gender roles, obligated to pursue a relationship with a boy over and over again, never even considering that there might be something more until this girl unlike anyone she’s ever met crashes into her life saying that she can do anything men can do, that she doesn’t have to fit into a little box. I legit thought the scene in her bedroom might be her confessing to being gay, though I knew it wouldn’t be. And like... the necklace exchange? The extended hug at the end? Not to mention in the second one, she’s desperate to escape her own universe so she can be with Mack again, desperate to live in a world where she’s allowed to be her true self. The fact that Brady turns into a garbage fire in that one doesn’t help my opinions on the canon pairings, either. By all rights, Lela’s story in the second movie ought to be a tragedy. She escapes a world defined by rigid expectations that she be in a relationship with a man to get back to the girl who changed her life. And she makes it! And she’s happy! And then it turns out everyone she loves will die if she doesn’t go back to her own life. She makes this tremendous sacrifice to save her entire universe, and honestly a sad gay story is cliche, but imo better than doing what they actually did with that ending.

As a little aside, can we talk about the unbelievable amount of lip service in these movies that the second one undermines with its entire plot? In the first movie Brady was kinda dumb, but a seemingly good boyfriend. Mack was so about Girl Power that she was trying to bring third wave feminism to the early sixties. In the second one Brady is sulky, jealous for no reason, dumps his girlfriend because HIS TRASH ASS fucking forgot they had plans, and never even has to apologize for it. On the contrary, Mack apologizes to HIM! When she never did anything to so much as suggest she’d find his interests stupid! I digress, sorry, it pissed me off to no end.

That finished, let’s get into the meta. While I don’t think the writers realized it, they wrote a super interesting multiverse. We’ve got the prime universe, the one Mack and Brady are from, which is the one all the others spawn from. My theory is that literally anyone can create a universe by writing about one. The intricacy of the created universe is based on how much worldbuilding goes into it, and the better thought-out the universe, the stronger the fabric of reality surrounding it will be, and the harder it’ll be to change from its intended path. This isn’t a new concept, but there’s an interesting level of equity in the fact that secondary universes can rewrite the entire timeline of the primary one if they change enough. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Wet Side Story is a sleepy little universe, not much thought put into how it runs at all. The characters sing and dance their way through the same summer over and over again in a contented daze, like the lotus eaters of the Odyssey. And then along come Mack and Brady, to stretch at the delicate chiffon of this simple place. The characters closest to them begin to stir from their trances, and there’s no way to go back. No way to unknow. Only an endless summer, a stretching eternity of pretending, and Lela can’t stand it. With barely a few months between, she’s pulling that fabric in the opposite direction trying to get back to the girl who captured her mind and her heart, currently in a failing relationship. And then she has to go back. She doesn’t want to. Mack seems to wish she could stay, if only for Lela’s own sake. She and Tanner return to their own universe, but not before Mack tells her that she can control her own destiny and shape her universe to her whims. Lela takes this to heart, becoming the solo star of the film. It’s too much. The thin fabric separating her universe from the primary one tears as she severely alters its timeline, allowing her to throw Mack a leather jacket matching her own through a movie screen, and shoot her a sly wink as she dances along to the movie. This is the end of Teen Beach 2, and oh boy, do I have sequel ideas.

Here’s the setup: so. Lela goes home. Whoever wrote the movie she’s in has long since abandoned caring for the universe they never bothered to build a world for, and their grip is weak. It’s easy to wrest the pen from that loose hand, to bend her world around her until it suits her desires, and she writes a great story. But it still feels empty. Lela is the queen of the beach, but her friends still seem their happiest playing their new roles, over and over again. She ascends to godhood, taking the reins of her own universe, but it’s lonely at the top and she’s as high as a person can go. She is peerless. She has nothing but time to ponder the nature of everything, and to yearn for the only equal she ever had.

The final film doesn’t open with her, though, and this one’s a fuckin’ doozy. Think Infinity War (the comic, not the movie, and maybe a little bit of Marvel’s Illuminati plotline too) meets a lesbian pulp novel. It opens with Mack, a few years later, now in college studying oceanography. Things keep sort of... glitching out. The camera pans past a character or scene from Lela, Queen of the Beach, or maybe even Wet Side Story, but when Mack looks back at it it’s always normal again. She decides she’s being silly, and it’s just been awhile since she watched her favorite movie, so that night she makes some time and puts it on. Lela herself steps out of the screen after one of her numbers and restores Mack’s memories of the timeline that got dead-ended by Lela’s alteration of her own universe. Mack is thrilled to see her after so long, and they hug, Mack explaining what she’s been doing in the time they’ve been apart. For Lela, it’s only been a year, and she never aged to begin with. Lela tells Mack how she took her advice, she changed her movie, but things were still so unbearably lonely. She tells her that whoever created their multiverse is cruel, that they had no regard for the people within, but that it’s alright. Lela knows how to handle indifferent creators, after all. She’s going to merge it all into one universe, no hierarchies, that she personally will oversee. She’s come to ask Mack to rule at her side.

Mack is afraid of her power and afraid of her ideas. She tries to talk Lela out of it, but to no avail. Lela is deeply sad that Mack doesn’t see things her way, but out of love for the other girl and a genuine belief that she’s too powerful to be stopped, once again forging her own destiny, she folds the necklace into Mack’s palm and returns to her own universe to continue her work.

Mack and Brady went their separate ways after high school, not on bad terms, but because a long-distance relationship didn’t seem realistic. This is the first time they’ve spoken since she left for college, but Brady is her only hope for someone who might understand. She manages to jog his memory, and they have to work together to try and prevent Lela from remaking all of creation. There are posters throughout which serve as markers of how close she is to achieving her goals, shifting gradually closer to their final form: Lela in iconic pink jacket leaning against the side of a motorcycle on a black-sand beach, a galactic sky behind her. The title reads, “LELA: QUEEN OF THE MULTIVERSE.” This is also the working title of the third movie.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand that’s all I got! How does it end? I don’t know! Probably Lela doesn’t merge the multiverse into one place, because that’s never a great plan. Maybe she just gets to live in Mack’s universe and go to college and find a girlfriend and have a good life? And her movie’s about Tanner and Bucky now (bc holy god there’s not as much of a story there but Tanner is fucking gay as hell), but it has the same story as the original? That might be good. Could also be called “Mack and Brady Save the Multiverse” idk.

#listen I know there's. #Some Tropes in here. #but consider: #I'm gay and I like them. #teen beach movie #teen beach 2 #this is probably so much more than you wanted lmao

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT : p.s I lo-; jon moxley

Notes:

so this originally came from @vonschweetz​ on my main’s asks... and it gave me yet another chance to play around with Jon and Jane, which is something I personally enjoy doing a lot. Perhaps I’ll get inspired to sit down and actually re-work their entire universe at some point, who knows.. until now, it’s here.

Summary:

Jon and Jane have been apart for years until finally... They’re not. Jane decides that she can’t take it anymore and she’s tempted to do something about it, but as per usual, Jon beats her to the punch...

Warnings:

uhh, alcohol tw - bc takes place in a bar.

Pairing:

Jon Moxley x OFC, Jane - from my vast universe for the two of them.

The paper fell out of his locker backstage, and before Mox could bend and pick it up and shove it back inside where it belonged, Sami was grabbing it off the floor and reading it, leaned against the door of the adjoining locker, using a cheesy narrator voice to really call attention to the good parts.

Mox snatched for it but Sami dove out of his way, snickering. “What’s your deal, man? It’s just an old note.”

“It ain’t just an old note. Give it back before I knock ya teeth down ya damn throat, Callihan.”

Sami eyed his friend and then the paper in his hand and a realization hit him. About a forgotten drunken conversation when they were both talking about regrets and things they’d do differently.

The letter in his hand was a break up letter, so it begged to question, why would Mox hold onto the damn thing?

Unless it belonged to Jane, the source of his friend Mox’s  one regret. “Jane wrote this, didn’t she? The night she packed up and left while ya were gone to a show in the next town..”

“Give me the fuckin note.”

Sami thrust it at him. It was either that or Mox bust his nose and frankly, Sami wasn’t into a trip to the ER that night.

“Still say ya oughta find her. You guys are gettin time off after this pay per view.. maybe ya head back to Ohio a few days, hmm? I can take ya, since I’m goin back after I watch your ass win this pay per view… Not like I got anything else goin on right now.” Sami offered his friend.

“And I said it’s in the past. I keep that to remind myself that this really is all I got, okay?”

“You got me.”

Mox snorted and Sami pretended to look hurt. For the time being, he dropped the subject.

It’s just too bad Mox’s mind didn’t. Instead, he found himself doing it again, just like he did a lot lately, and he found himself wondering what might have happened if he’d just… Tried a little harder, stopped fighting her so much and keeping her at arms length back then.

He thought she’d left because he was always gone. He was only just really realizing that it wasn’t him always being gone that had driven her away. It was him, keeping her at a distance, picking fights, doing stupid shit, making her doubt how he really felt. He was older now, so he could see the situation for what it was and he knew he was totally at fault.

Before, he kept the letter as a reminder that he’d literally given up everything for wrestling. Now, he kept the letter because it reminded him that he’d come a far cry from the guy he used to be. He was better, because of her.

And tonight, he kind of wished he’d be leaving the arena and going home to her. All the other guys had someone waiting. Mox was only going to have his empty Vegas apartment.

Maybe that dog who hung around the alley waiting for someone to throw food down.

And Sami’s simple question nagged at him again.

Why not reach out to her?

It was worth a shot, right?

He found himself opening and reading the letter again, furrowing his brow over the bottom of the page where the paper had gotten old and torn away at some point.

“Ps I Lo..”

( LE TIME SKIPPE)

The bar was playing his match tonight. The owner, Phil, he had a thing against WWE, but when he found out that hometown boy Jon Moxley switched over to AEW, he said he’d start showing their pay per views, so now, every few weeks, Jane found herself sitting at the same old bar her old man had when she was a kid on football weekends, nursing a Guinness and watching a sport that she only kinda loved because it made the man she loved happier than anything.

… sad part of it is, it made him happier than I did… the thought surfaced and Jane rolled her eyes at herself, ordering another beer and more hot wings. “Extra blue cheese this time, Phil. I see you skimping on it, I’m not stupid.”

As she dug into the plate of wings once they got bought out to her, she stared at the tv, watching Mox in his latest PPV match, yelling at the screen, prouder than anyone could possibly be of a man that while not hers, she still very much considered her man.

If she thought he’d have her back, she’d reach out. She was older now, she realized just how childish she’d been back then, how much she tried to force him to be and do things that he wasn’t and couldn’t at the time.

… if I had a chance to do it over… i’d just be happy he was mine… if he walked through the door right now, I’d go to him so fast…

What happened next shocked her.

The owner came out, walking towards the door.

Jane was torn between watching the Pay per view and watching where Phil went for some reason. When she saw who Phil was talking to, and saw both of them looking her way, she quickly turned her attention back to the television, busying herself with the last of her hot wings and the remainder of her beer, waving over a server for another.

She already had the beginnings of a decent pyramid in front of her.

The chair across from her own screeched as it was pulled out. Her heart was hammering in her ears. When she looked up, her eyes got lost in the endless baby blue of his and she swallowed hard.

“You’re on…”

“They film ‘em a day or two before they show ‘em, doll.” Mox explained calmly. Well, as calmly as one could be, given what he was doing on a whim.

Everything changed, and yet.. She was still as devastatingly beautiful as she’d been the day he spotted her dancing in the dance studio down the hall from the room he’d been sparring with Sami and some others in.

“Mox..”

Jane was still shocked. She pinched herself, swearing when it hurt. And then her thought from ten minutes before came rushing back and she didn’t think, she reacted.

Leaning in, she grabbed hold of the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him across the table and over the remaining plate of wings. Her lips crashed against his greedily and all she could do was this bizarre mixture of crying and apologizing and telling him over and over that she still loved him and she regretted leaving every single second since the night she’d done it.

The kiss broke and Mox smiled. It felt foreign, wearing a smile. He hadn’t really smiled in a long time. “Had a little time between shows and I happened to come back.. I had to see ya.”

“You did, hmm?”

“I… wanted to tell ya I was fuckin dumb. I shoulda come to ya the night ya left and went back to ya dad’s place. I shoulda fought harder. We… we coulda made it work. I coulda tried… something.”

“It’s my fault too.. I was putting too much pressure on.”

“No, all ya wanted was to know ya were loved. I guess that’s why I came… Wanted to tell ya I never stopped.”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

“You wanna get outta here, maybe take a walk?”

“I’d love that, actually. Your match is the only reason I came down to watch tonight. Fuckin cable is out at my place. Guess my post dated check of Fuck You didn’t go through.”

Mox snickered and stood, holding out his hand, pulling her off her seat and against him as they walked out of the door.

#jon moxley fanfiction #jon moxley fanfic #jon moxley fic #jon moxley oneshot #jon moxley imagine #// i love their universe. perhaps one day I'll continue it

[octothorpetopus]

I Forgot That You Existed (Part 1)

Link to part 2

"Yeah, we're not so worried about you not 'getting some.'" Frank put air quotes around the words.

"Well, we kind of are. It's just that the 'some' we're worried about you not getting is emotional fulfillment."

"True." Richie looked back and forth between his friends.

"Guys, I'm not getting a fucking online dating profile. I'm not forty. Stop bugging me."

"Richie, we're worried about you."

"What the hell are you, my mother?"

"Just download the fucking app, Tozier." Frank snatched the phone out of Richie's hand and held it just out of reach. Nina held Richie back as he reached for it.

"You motherfucker, give me my phone back!" Frank didn't respond.

"Say cheese!" He snapped a picture of Richie, who had sat sullenly back down. He typed speedily for a few moments (Frank's typing skills were the envy of all rapid-fire texters), then pressed a button. There was a soft whoosh as the profile was posted, and Frank tossed Richie his phone back.

"Fuck you, Frank." The phone chimed and all three of them gathered around to look at it.

"Holy shit," Nina said softly. "You got a match."

Meanwhile, in an LAX waiting room, Eddie Kaspbrak's phone buzzed in his back pocket. He ignored it, focusing instead on the pitch he was mentally writing and the steady sound his suitcase made as he rolled it back and forth in short paces. He hated investor meetings, but it was his company, and he had to get it off the ground if he ever wanted to be anything more than a 34-year-old asthmatic business major with no friends, no life, and no idea where he was going. Metaphorically. Literally, he was going to the Los Angeles Hilton, if his cab would ever get here. His phone buzzed again. He sighed and pulled it out.

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MATCH read the notification. He swiped and opened the phone. The wheel in the middle of the screen spun for what seemed like hours. Shitty airport WiFi. Finally, a profile popped up. The guy in the picture was... alright, he guessed. There was something a little oddball about him. And a little familiar, too. But then, maybe he just had one of those faces. Or, he realized, maybe he was a stand-up comedian that he’d seen in New York last year. Eddie smiled to himself, amused by the coincidence. At the time, he had no idea just how deep that coincidence really went.

“He’s kinda cute,” Nina offered and shrugged.

”I don’t know. He’s got sort of a sad puppy look. It’s a little off-putting.”

”Nobody asked you, Frank.”

”Nobody asked you either, Nina.”

”Both if you shut up.” Richie held up a hand to silence them. “Look, if I go on this one date, will you promise to get off my ass about getting a date?” Nina and Frank looked at each other and nodded.

”Deal.”

”Fine, then.” Richie’s thumb hovered above the LIKE button. “But what if-?”

”Oh, just shut up!” Nina exclaimed, and pushed the button for him.

Eddie considered it briefly. He was only in LA for a few days, maybe a week. There would be no second date, no relationship to come from this. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the voice in his head telling him yes, that this was important. And besides, what was the harm? Lots of people only went on one date. He pressed the LIKE button too.

”Fuck me,” he whispered as a message popped up on the screen.

CONGRATULATIONS!

Both of you liked each other!

Now you can start chatting.

Make a date, and hopefully, a connection.

Eddie rolled his eyes. This was the exact kind of cheesy bullshit he hadn't wanted when he had signed up for this app a year ago on a whim. A chat window opened up.

This is the start of your messages with RICHIE TOZIER

RICHIE TOZIER IS TYPING...

Richie had sent Nina and Frank away. He was tired and annoyed and frankly, talking to strangers on the internet (something he vaguely recalled his mother telling him never to do) sounded far more appealing than trying to deal with his friends at the moment. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. What could he... say? "Hi, you're kind of hot?" "You ever date a comedian?" Maybe he'd just skip words and go directly to emojis. And then it came to him, a line he used to use on girls all the time back in school (girls who were well-above his league, and he knew it).

This is the start of your messages with EDWARD KASPBRAK

RICHIE TOZIER: I could use some spare change, and you're a dime.

He felt stupid even as he wrote it, but he pressed send before he had a chance to give it a second thought. Well, he thought, there goes that idea. And then, Edward Kaspbrak started typing.

Eddie was in his cab now, staring down at the absolutely asinine pick-up line he'd just been sent by a man who was at best a 6 and a half. But once again, he had a sense of déjà vu. Not just like he had heard that line before, but like it was somehow meaningful. If it had been anyone else, he was sure he would've ignored the message and moved on. But it wasn't just anyone, and even if Eddie didn't quite know why he remembered Richie Tozier, he wasn't giving up quite yet.

EDWARD KASPBRAK: You use that line on all the boys?

RICHIE TOZIER: I've got a whole library full of them, I don't need to reuse that one.

EDWARD KASPBRAK: Hey, this might sound weird, but have we met before? I have the weirdest feeling that we have.

RICHIE TOZIER: I'm pretty sure I would've remembered meeting you, dude.

Eddie flushed scarlet in the back of the cab. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said something like that to him. Truly, he couldn't.

EDWARD KASPBRAK: I'm probably wrong. Anyway, are you free tonight?

Richie thought for a moment. He was supposed to go get drinks with some other comedian buddies of his, then maybe crash an open-mic night that they had frequented in their early comedy days. But then he looked back at the man on his phone, the one who looked just a little bit sad even though he was smiling as widely as can be in his picture, and typed out a quick reply.

RICHIE TOZIER: I actually am. I know a good place, pretty quiet. I'll text you the address. You eaten yet?

EDWARD KASPBRAK: Yeah, why?

RICHIE TOZIER: The drinks are good, but the food... it's good that you already ate.

Eddie fussed with his hair one last time in the hotel mirror. It just... wouldn't sit right, even though it looked exactly like it always did. And his clothes, all he had was what he’d brought for business meetings and casual dress, nothing like what he’d normally wear on a date. He checked his watch again. He had given himself fifteen minutes to get there, even though the concierge at the hotel told him it’d take maybe ten, if traffic was bad, and since it was a Wednesday it probably wouldn't be.

To say Eddie hadn't been on a date in awhile would be an understatement. He hadn't been on a first date in seven months. He hadn't been on a second date in a year and a half. He hadn't been on a third date in three years. And as for his last real relationship... well, Eddie had never been in a real relationship. Not that he could remember, anyway. In college, there had been a four-month thing with a girl, but that was mostly just to please his mother. He and the girl (Rosa was her name) had been good friends, and still were, but their whole relationship had been something of a friendship with a few awkward makeout sessions thrown in for good measure. The fact that he didn't like women was probably a factor in his disastrous relationships, both with women and with his mother, but she had been dead for three years this October and he was finally living the way he had always meant to. He just... hadn't gotten around to it when she was still alive.

He took one last look in the mirror. He wasn't satisfied, but then, when was he ever? It was a warm early summer night, so he thought he'd walk. Or maybe he shouldn't. There would surely be people smoking outside, and with his asthma...

Similarly, Richie was trying on his third outfit. He had tried just the Hawaiian shirt, then just a T-shirt and leather jacket, and then all three simultaneously. Funnily enough, the multi-layered look was his favorite.

"You got this, Richie." He looked himself in the eyes (through the mirror, not any kind of crazy witchcraft shit), and cracked a grin. "Except that you're talking to yourself. Fuckin' weirdo." But he grew sober, and his fingers tapped nervously against the side of his leg.

Richie didn't date, per se, but he went out a lot, and then went home, usually with a different guy, although he had been known to call up an old flame from time to time. He had dated, and he wasn't necessarily opposed to the idea, but he was, not to toot his own horn, famous. And usually, famous guys, especially ones that weren't classically hot, didn't get dates. They got laid.

His Mustang was parked in the driveway, and even before he started it the wind off the ocean whipped his hair into a frenzy. As he sped off into the Santa Monica sunset, the butterflies in his stomach began to dissipate. This was going to be different. He could feel it.

Eddie had been waiting outside the bar for almost ten minutes. It was his fault, of course, for getting there so early, but the pacing outside the front door did nothing to calm his nerves. Nor did the gentle roar of the cherry-red Mustang that pulled up next to the curb, nor did the profoundly familiar face that got out of it. Richie Tozier walked two paces towards him and stopped in his tracks, his eyes even wider behind his fishbowl glasses than usual. Eddie spoke first, his vocal cords hardly functional.

"Holy-"

"-shit," Richie finished. All of a sudden, everything clicked into place. Why the name had sounded so familiar, and the face had been even more so. Why he had been so nervous in the first place. Eddie fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a gray piece of plastic. His inhaler. He took two quick puffs of it and shook his head, as if in a stupor. Richie, who had screeched to a halt upon seeing his childhood friend (and first love, but that was another story), started again, and hugged Eddie with a force he didn't know he had in him. Eddie hugged him back, just as tightly.

"Holy shit, man," Eddie repeated.

"Yeah." They finally released each other and Richie took a step back, looking Eddie up and down. "Damn, Eds. You're looking good."

"So are you." Richie shook his head.

"I feel like such a fucking moron, but... I didn't even realize it was you until I saw you just now. You're going by Edward now?"

"Not... not really. And to tell you the truth, I only thought I recognized you because I saw one of your shows when you were in New York last winter." Richie laughed, deep and warm.

"Shit. Was it any good? Wait, don't answer that."

"It was great."

"Well, um... since we're here..." Richie gestured at the bar's frosted glass doors. "Want to get a drink?" Eddie smiled, and his dimples were craters in his cheeks.

"Yeah. I really do."

#reddie #it chapter ii #it stephen king #stephen king #it chapter 2 #it chap 2 #it 2 #it 2 movie #eddie x richie #richie x eddie #richie tozier #bill hader #finn wolfhard #seth green #eddie kaspbrak #james ransone #pj ransone #jack grazer #jack dylan grazer #dennis christopher #fanfic #reddie fic #fic #fanfiction

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

Gonna write my scatterbrained Spicy Hot Takes on Agartha before the news is stale and I delete this annoying and boring chapter from my mental landscape, so bear with me:

I think Agartha’s main issue was just straight up poor writing. The Japanese direct translations being as downright offensive as they were is one thing - but overall, the chapter is just one plot contrivance after another. It tries so, so hard to go for a certain tone but can’t seem to stick to any one thing or idea. Disregarding themes about sexuality probably would have been the very best way to go about this chapter, since I think the most interesting part was the theme about storytelling and in-authenticity - we all know that That Line was annoying af in a game like FGO, but it CAN work in a series like Fate as a whole. I had a helluva long day at work so allow me to explain in the least scatter-brained way I can manage right now:

Here’s what I’m thinking: Scheherazade, whose name I guarantee I will spell wrong/differently every time I write it even though I’ve been able to pronounce it properly since I was thirteen (I was in a speaking competition and told some of the Thousand and One Nights using her framework as the opening monologue, long story short ANYWAY -) is traumatized by her ordeal with the king. This is a really good and interesting thing to explore! Fitting it in with the theme of storytelling - Scheherazade is deeply afraid of dying and will do whatever it takes to live, so she makes a fantasy world and fills it with legends, and feeds their energy to a Holy Grail. With this, and the power of a Demon God at her side, she plans to reveal magic to the human world in the most destructive fashion possible, allowing the fantastic to become ordinary, and destroying the Throne of Heroes itself in the process. Fate is a series were stories have power - but Scheherazade survived basically by telling the most fantastical, interesting tales she could and never finishing them. She always would pause in the middle, and say, “That’s all for tonight.” I think this is the kind of thing we can run with in terms of setting.

Dahut is the weirdest example because it’s the one story in the chapter that I know next to nothing about. At one point it’s mentioned that Dahut is impossible to summon as a Servant, and so Drake was “forced” into the role of the Pirate Princess. Ys is probably the weakest part of the chapter for that, but I did like the idea of her being “Drake Alter,” where Drake vibrantly pursues her goals and desires but takes nothing for granted; Dahut gives into her every whim and takes absolutely everything for granted. The conflict between “Drake” and “Dahut” should have been emphasized more instead of having the player/Da Vinci dismiss her as “Oh, it’s not Drake, except when she conveniently comes back to delivery us the MacGuffins Ex Machina in the eleventh hour.” Dahut has little connection to Drake - it’s not her story, but a role she was forced into because Scheherazade was building a very specific kind of world. Therefore it is inauthentic. Perhaps that’s all it needs to be in this context. 

This can also work with the Amazons. Scheherazade never told stories of the Amazons, but she has access to basically all stories in the world through her Noble Phantasm - she learns that they are a society of warrior women who live without men, and so decides that they will be a society which oppresses men due to her fear/bitterness towards men after the ordeal she suffered through. The “oppressing men” plotline was honestly dumb all around but using the Amazons as a mechanism to explore Scheherazade's trauma would’ve been more interesting than just having them be the Big Bad before the Big Bad Columbus Reveal: Scheherazade doesn’t like fighting, but wishes that she had been strong enough to protect herself. Because she views herself as a coward and her ordeal with the king has complicated her view of sexuality - “I’m better suited to a bedchamber than a battlefield” - she uses the Amazons of Agartha as a mechanism to cope. 

This brings us to Wu, whose design I’m still not happy about even though I think the in-story justification is somewhat fair. (Let Helena and Wu be gray-haired grannies together or so help me!) Wu was absolutely an authoritarian ruler who did, in fact, invade and conquer several nations and institute a terrifying network of secret police. In her later life, she was given to decadence - but her tenure on the throne showed her to be a highly competent administrator. Notably, she ruled over an era of religious tension and balanced matters quite well, and though she was accused of undoing meritocracy to put her supporters into power, many of the men she appointed held positions in government long after she’d died because they were actually good at their jobs. Wu has been heavily mythologized over the years - later Tang emperors and Neo-Confucian scholars wrote her off (Wu founded her own dynasty under her own name, so they kind of had to legitimize it somehow), she became associated the nine-tailed fox spirit thanks to a few popular novels and poems, etc., etc., etc. The crazy thing is that Wu actually left very few records of herself behind, apart from some poems. Even the inscription on her tomb is blank! People can say whatever they want about her - it’s extremely difficult to know the full truth of the matter without any objective observers in the field (and without Wu’s own words to give context/another story), especially if you don’t read any Chinese. 

BTW - the first thing I learned history class is that when you’re dealing with primary sources, you must always remember that translators have agendas. Every word is a deliberate choice, and it changes the meaning from the original text. When dealing with historical documents, this is not always a good thing. 

Scheherazade reads some, but not all of these stories, and integrates Wu into her world as the sadist empress with an iron grip on her decadent mythical city. 

Do you see what I’m getting at here? It’s a lot, but I’m not done. Now we have to deal with Columbus - there’s “In Defense of Columbus” video is floating around in the Agartha tag, but I haven’t watched it in full and haven’t done like, any intensive research on Columbus in particular, so I’m going to apologize right now for any historical inaccuracies/misconceptions that I’m about to write. The point I want to make here mainly is that Columbus, like Wu, has been heavily, heavily mythologized for both good and evil at various points. The thing about Columbus that is also interesting is that the authenticity of his journals is or was apparently a subject of debate. The man who published most of them actually happened to be Bartolomew de las Casas - one of the founders/first vocal supporters of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. The reason de la Casas supported this is because he believed that using African labor would be an improvement over enslaving the native populations of the New World. Soon after, he had a change of heart and devoted the rest of his life to fighting against slavery in all forms. De la Casas went on to be named a saint, and was possibly the first person in history to propose the idea of universal human rights - which is how I had heard of him until literally just this afternoon; I had no idea he’d ever supported the slave trade until I was looking up basic info about Columbus’s writings so I could write this long-ass post. History is full of complicated people. 

But as I mentioned in Wu’s bit, it’s very important to note that in many ways, Columbus is literally just whatever people decide he is. Like, he never even set foot in any land that would become the United States, and yet he’s a huge symbol here! Along these lines, his amnesia would fit the theme of inauthentic storytelling, choosing what to read and what to believe in. Columbus regaining his memories was an understated moment, which is actually fucking fantastic because it could be used to really emphasize the choice that is being made here. He’s a Heroic Spirit who can choose to be whatever he wants. He can choose to be the simple hero-explorer that schoolchildren sing about, or he can choose to be the Big Bad, the first and perhaps most infamous conquistador. And he chooses to be the bad guy. That is so fuckin’ fantastic, y’all! I honest to God love that not only did FGO portray Columbus as a villain of history but that the bad reputation is something he chooses to maintain! I can write a list of Servants who were less than stellar people and got a makeover for Fate. Nero is probably one of the worst examples but like - Ozymandias absolutely owned slaves in his life as a pharaoh. Hercules and Medea murdered their own children. Asterios literally ate humans as the Minotaur. Gilles de Rais exists as a playable character. Jack the Ripper is your daughter. Hell, Nobunaga burned temples with the monks still inside - but she feels bad about it now! Enough digressing but I a hundred percent get why Japanese fans found Columbus “refreshing” at his introduction. He owns his cruelty, his desire to exploit others - he challenges the narrative that everyone is redeemable because he doesn’t even want to be redeemed, he just wants to get rich and famous, and he doesn’t give a shit who he steps over in the process! Like, Columbus said, “I’m just doing what comes naturally,” at one point when he still had amnesia, so when he got his memory back and turned on the player, I really would’ve liked for him to say is something like, “You’ve already decided that I’m the bad guy, right? You know my story, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

These kinds of questions/debates could have been used to emphasize the themes of Agartha. Legends are what people decide they are. People make choices and history decides whether they were good or evil or important retroactively. Can you know what someone is like by reading a translation of their poetry? Can you judge a king’s reign by the words of their successors or their rivals? Does the context of a story matter? This all could have been super interesting to explore!

Like I said, the main theme of Agartha being “inauthentic storytelling” could have been hella, hella good considering that this is a world created by Scheherazade’s fears and trauma feeding into her escapist desires. But Minase’s incompetence as a writer made everything so hamfisted and awkward that everything just suffered under his desire to insert his fetishes at every moment. It was so obvious that he didn’t read any material for old Fate characters - like Astolfo you poor sweet thing, you deserved so much better! - and even the new characters that he clearly did research on, like Columbus, fell flat because he couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say beyond mildly-to-extra offensive sex jokes.

#i'm tired so i may not reply to any responses but i had to get this out of my system because it's been nagging at me #like... it could've been good #it could've been at least decent if minase just... knew how to deal with a theme and read up on some fate character materials #but he didn't do that and so now we have This Mess #fate grand order #agartha nonsense #also disclaimer i did the baaaare minimum of research for parts and didn't even dig up my Empress Wu Research Paper docs #but like now that i've got this off my chest i'm gonna be done wasting time thinking about agartha since it was just so.... #not even like that it was especially bad it was just... lifeless and insipid #thank goodness holmes told us it wasn't even canon lmao

[96percentdone]

Anon if you’re wondering why I’m doing it like this it’s because I don’t want this showing up in the shi//rog//ane searches. I am going to rail very hard on her character. If you like her, you were warned.

To be quite frank I think literally anyone would have made a more interesting ringleader. Okay, that’s a lie. Except for Ouma and Harumaki and Yonaga, I think anyone else would have made a better ringleader. I’m gonna explain why, first starting briefly with why I think Ouma and Harumaki would have made worse ringleaders.

Ouma is quite simple: his entire character gimmick is “pretending to be an obvious mastermind only to end up NOT being the mastermind and is fundamentally against the killing game to begin with.” This is is just too good to ruin. Harukawa’s is less complicated in that she’s an assassin, so making her the ringleader would be boring and obvious. Like yeah okay of course the surprise assassin was the organiser of the killing game big fuckin whoop. And finally Yonaga, and the big reason for that is her character gimmick is “scary exotic foreigner” and cults and it’s a lot of racist shit and tbh I think even if you took a lot of that out, making the one foreign coded character (in a Japanese environment) your ringleader is asking for trouble. Don’t do that. 

The biggest reason I think shi//ro//gane fails not only as a DR mastermind, but as a character, is because she’s boring as shit and has no personality. It’s not even an accident she has no personality. in v3 characters tend to revolve around a gimmick, and her gimmick is literally being a non-entity. She constantly talks about being plain, and for most of the game her big thing each chapter is just...going with the gimmick of the chapter. That and she makes anime references that feel kind of forced and personally not how people tend to make references. And then in her big chapter, where she was the revealed to be the mastermind, she spends most of it pretending to be other pre-existing characters with more personality. 

Some people think the center of her personality is on fandom, and it’s a commentary on it, and on passion. To which I say: fucking where. Okay, I understand exactly where that potential lies, and in her free time events there’s definitely more of that. But I personally think that if I need to read the free time events (which are entirely optional you could play v3 without ever doing a fte, nevermind specifically hers) to feel like a character has a personality, then you didn’t write a well written character. 

What is there in the main story to suggest this? She makes constant poorly done anime references, and there’s one forced fanservice consplay scene. I’m blown away by this. It never feels like this is important to her, because it’s always played as like a joke or an event where her talent is just the excuse for fanservice in the ch1 scene. What else is there? Does she talk about her love for fandom and cosplay? Is she looking for excuses to dress people up in her various cosplays in the main story? No! Fuck I mean we even unlock her room and the mandatory conversation you have with her with that weird ass cg is about her bar life, not her fandom life. Like they go out of the way to not talk about it meaningfully in the one place it would be more than apt to do so. Seriously?

Chapter 6 is better at making her fandom commentary. You could argue that her constantly shifting into previous characters and rambling on and on about her love of dangan ronpa is fandom commentary. And yeah I guess it is. But it’s weak as fuck. It’s backed by like jack shit from the earlier chapters, and she has to talk about this because this is the big plan for ch6. It’s the ch6 gimmick! And then ch6 is an inconsistent mess of lies and contradictions that canon can’t explain, and she says some things (like the cosplaycat killer line) that imply she faked all that too so like. More following the chapter’s gimmick? would you believe? I would!

That’s the big problem with Shi//ro//ga//ne. Her gimmick is her entire personality, and that gimmick is not having one. That’s why she just does the big thing of every chapter, that’s why she’s so forgettable and doesn’t stand out and is “plain”, that’s why she constantly cosplays as other dr characters, and that’s why at the end of the chapter she goes “haha I pulled another great trick” without elaborating. Her thing is having no existing personality. Just being whatever the story needs. And maybe someone out there will be like “but that just shows her passion for DR and--” no. No what it is is just cheap and lazy writing, and again possibly not even true. 

And this has bad effects on writing a meaningful mastermind, particularly since we spent the entire game with her. She does nothing the entire time and doesn’t stand out, and particularly with v3′s writing where characters generally only become important in the chapter they die, by the time you get to ch6 it’s so obvious she’s going to be the ringleader. Harukawa’s had an arc (albeit a shitty one), Yumeno had an arc, Saihara is your protag for realsies who had an arc (albeit half-assed and not focused on what would have made it strong), and Kiibo is clearly having his big moment right now, so that leaves Shir//o//gane being saved up for something huge. Like the ringleader. She becomes obvious because she’s nothing. And then her reveal means nothing because she had no personality to get invested in because her gimmick was having no personality. And also they do nothing with her and chapter six is a poorly written garbage fest that makes no fucking sense.

She’s a bad mastermind because she’s a bad character, and she’s a bad character because her personality is a nonexistent thing that’s entirely up for grabs since she’s faked it all and her gimmick is just not being an interesting person. 

And this makes effectively anyone else a better ringleader, because anyone else in the game has more to their personality than she does. I’ll even explain why everyone excluding the previously mentioned three will make better antagonists before getting to my main ideal pick. In order of deaths!

Amami: he’s a mystery man right? that kinda seems to point against him but like play up the he died first trying to stop the killing game angle and it turns out he faked it or something just to get it started. He could take or leave killing Akamatsu off, but she chose trial, so she had to go. revise his videos a little so he looks a little sketchy, but even more like a victim trying to do good.

Akamatsu: if you just take out the fuckin “she has a twin bit” in ch6 and have it turn out she faked like her entire execution just so she looks like she’s entirely uninvolved, only to turn out she did kill Amami but with entirely different means, would that be cool or what? like it’d be the triple Akamatsu twist whammy. also wouldn’t waste her as a character cause she wouldn’t die for manpain to be your wife.

Hoshi: so yeah he’s kinda got the “I’m depressed because i’ve killed” shit working against him but you can easily rework that into a big old lie (hey look it’s the themes of the game some more wild). he’s still depressed in real life but his outlet for that was violence, so killing game.

Toujou: literally she gets power hungry and sick of constantly having to tend to the whims of everyone around her. her loving serving people was the big lie. she’s more interested in serving herself and the audience. Simple. Effective. Subverts her character in a meaningful but still relevant way.

Chabashira: she’s super honest and open about her emotions right? To an almost childlike way? fuck yeah you could make that ringleader shit. She wants to bring out the best in people emotionally, except she actually thinks the best way to do that is trauma. But she doesn’t really actually care about your emotional wellbeing, and that becomes apparent throughout the trial. her big fuckin lie. amazing.

Shinguuji: see this is tough and i’m tempted to put him in the not-mastermindable category because of chapter 3 which was. eugh. But okay see we’re just gonna take out all the weird incest serial killer shit. shinguuji’s gimmick anyway is that he’s detached and more interested in observing the people around him like an onlooker than he is partaking. smart but doesn’t give much a shit. this is easily played up to ringleader levels just. “I wanted to put humans in a society I made myself to play god and observe them to my heats content” simple. not as thematic, but hey it’s consistent.

Iruma: okay so canonically. Iruma is kinda a bitch. I mean this positively she’s kinda funny even if the sex jokes gross me out. She’s paranoid and kinda narcissistic and super weak to criticism and bites people in an attempt to make them not bite her. So what if it turns out like that’s just...fake. she’s actually just rude mean and crude not as some kinda backwards defense mechanism (we’re taking out the kink) it’s just because she likes being mean and crude. She seems so weak willed as a person but it turns out she orchestrated and “invented” the killing games just to keep attention on her and put people through hell. I’m not totally confident in this one I’m sure others can come up with better but fuck I mean it’s not shi//ro//ga//ne.

Gokuhara: this is easy he’s not actually a gentleman at all! it’s a big lie! a ploy to make him sympathetic and likeable! He went along with Ouma’s shit just because he thought it was amusing! The world at large decided he couldn’t be a gentleman, so he decided to be the biggest brute you can find and run killing game where he makes himself look good in comparison to everyone else. you’d have to rewrite ch6 a lot but it’d be better than canon anyway lmfao

Momota: now Momota’s my second favourite ringleader choice not gonna lie. This is just because the narrative plays him up as your shsl best friend and you get very invested in him (despite his uh....glaring toxic masculinity problems which we’re taking out because they add nothing to his character). His big thing is being a supportive believer. a shounen protag. but it’s all bullshit! Have the real Momota be the audition tape asshole. Or he doesn’t even have to be that it’s just his big thing will be that huge punch of betrayal that won’t compare except for with my #1 pick. But we’ll get to them very soon.

Kiibo: Y’know those posts that talk about how AIs are actually going to be very pure with their best interest in being serving humanity? I want that for Kiibo, but in a super warped and twisted way. Kiibo in his desire to be seen as a human and respected by them, starts feeding the twisted desires of the masses with the torture porn they crave in the form of a killing game, because this will make him be accepted as one of them. But he still ends up being a kind of subservient AI who never escapes that role, so now the killing game runs partially on hate, and partially on the thin remains of hope he has. I think this is kinda fun.

Yumeno: Yumeno is great because she has that whole arc where she learns to be open with her feelings and honest with herself right? Well we’re gonna make that just. a big old lie. She just doesn’t give a shit, so fuck it she’ll do this killing game shit too.

And finally, top pick: Saihara. Saihara would be the literal best option. Keep the protagonist switch. Akamatsu dies, we take Saihara as protagonist now. He gets played out basically the same. We play thinking we’re playing an insecure detective with some issues with the truth (and some issues with lies that aren’t capitalised on as well but hey that’s not actually entirely necessary for this scenario). We think Saihara is trying to carry on Akamatsu’s wish, because he says he would, and he solves all the cases and seems to be interested in saving everyone.

But...it’s a lie. Like in chapter 1 we were playing with an unreliable narrator the whole game. Saihara’s focus on the mystery versus trying to guarantee their lives in the game now gets played for “of course he’s focused on those this is his show. It’s what he lives for.” Saihara created a killing game to have an endless set of murder mysteries to solve, and he doesn’t really care about the people, but their potential in creating a good story. Maybe he’s even the pre-game fanboy too if we’re keeping that trick. And the narrative insisting on framing him as good through the use of the cast becomes a clever trick to hide his motivations.It’d be another unreliable narrator, and the best way to capitalize on the themes of the game. More lies. 

Not to mention it would make the Akamatsu thing especially brutal, because you play as him to frame her for a crime it will turn out she did not actually commit. The replay value of the game at LARGE would be through the roof, all because of this trick. It’d be fucking fascinating, and it would just destroy dangan ronpa formula. We’ll have not only a murder protagonist, but a mastermind protagonist. Listen. LISTEN. This is the best possible ringleader selection. I will fight you. dkgjrngdjkn

Okay I went on long enough we’re gonna call it a day. I hope this more than answered your questions!

#hope.txt #dangan ronpa #ndrv3 #saihara // #my meta

[emodeer666]

i fucked up bad. a fucky-wucky of severe proportions

like i dont blame anyone but myself. even tho any rational person would probs look at what happened and say “no this is def not ur fault ur a victim in this situation its not on u its all on him” i shouldve been smarter idfc. he literally admitted to being a liar and to overpacking the bowls. admitted to intentionally getting me higher than i was comfortable being. and i still. still fuckin went along with the dab he made for me. he assured me over and over again that it wasnt a big hit, i wouldnt get that high, that it was the tiniest possible hit i could take and i knew all of that was bullshit. i knew it was gonna fuck me up bad i knew i was gonna feel terrible. totally helpless at the whim of this man that i didnt trust. i downright hate him. and i took the dab anyway, after he told me he was a liar after he told me he tried to get me higher than i wanted on purpose. so yeah that makes it my fucking fault. my fault for thinking he could even be the slightest bit decent. i took the L

and like he was arguing with someone over snapchat. being super aggressive. kept calling her a bitch and cussing and being loud. this was all right after i’d helped him move out of the house he’d been staying in with a buddy and his mom. he told me some absolute bullshit story about why he was kicked out, i work with the guy he lived with so im gonna get the truth soon. but anyway he was already being an ass about all that on top of the argument he was having w/ the snapchat girl. so i asked him to calm down, if we could talk about something good. he said he’d stop. said smth else, i dont remember what it was i couldnt focus on what he said i was already so fucked up. he kept talking about it anyway, why would he stop. i couldnt do anything. i was just fucking-- sitting there and shivering. i shake a lot when i get too high. just thinking to myself, over and over, its ok. im gonna get thru this. im gonna get thru tonight. im gonna get out of this dirty ass room and im gonna go home and im gonna see my cat and my dad. im gonna be fine. he didnt ever try to put his hands on me. but he fucking couldve. i couldntve stopped him. i was fucking useless.

like, i get it, i was high so i was paranoid. i genuinely feared for my life. i thought about calling the cops. im still a minor by law and i had weed in my car and i’d get in so much trouble if i did but i really just felt that unsafe.

after like 30 or so minutes of me sitting there and saying nothing he finally just went “alright” and walked me out. house rules, he lives in an apartment complex and guests cant walk around by themselves. he started saying creepy and gross shit to me, bullshit lies about how “our boss told me she thought we were fucking when we first started hanging out hahah” completely out of nowhere, nothing i said or did to prompt this. he walked me to my car and went back inside. i kept locking my doors. over and over again. i pulled up one of those panic attack breathing gifs on my phone. i left the tab bc i wanted to see it the next morning. i wanted to remind myself of how badly i’d fucked up. this is never gonna happen again. i’ll never do this to myself again. never again ever

#steppe vents #minors dni #drug tw #the funniest fuckin part abt it all tho like #i walked into his room and my first thought was. huh #it smells like trauma in here #it smells like horrible experiences in here #but i still sat with there in him. still hung out with him #my fault!! my own fucking fault all of it! #man imagine if i had someone i trusted that i could tell this to #instead of making a post available to a bunch of strangers on the internet that no ones gonna read

[monochrome-dust]

9 with Beltza, Erri, and Korone if thats not too much to ask :3c

Oh boy buckle up, friends, it’s a wordy one (even without the bonus question we discussed oops):

9: Their theme

For all three of them, I’ve tried to use the stories they’re based off of to inform their themes (with Erri’s as a bit of cheat as I’ll describe below).

BELTZA

I knew from the beginning that every member of BKBD would be inspired by stories involving corvids, and for Bel, I absolutely knew he was going to be a raven faunus who would have wings, and then those wings would be taken away. Basically he was always going to be a sad raven boy.

Now I’m sure the story I used for him (Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven) has been used thousands of times for OCs, but I think it ended up fitting him really well. Specifically, I drew from the following lines: “And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / Shall be lifted - nevermore,” which can be seen quite literally in the state of his Semblance upon joining Beacon (shadow-based, forms into hands and used mainly for hindering targets).

It’s also in line with this general feeling he has that he’s hit a really low point in his life and he thinks he’s never going to get out of it. But of course he does because I want him to, even though I do have a Bad End for him that I like to think about sometimes (read: a lot). So if I had to give him a sort of theme, it would be “The bird will fly again” because, ironies aside, dammit if no one else is on my side of things at least Bel is going to be happy.

ERRI

I call Erri’s inspiration a bit of a cheat because I’m using The Raven King, a story I have absolutely made up, as his basis. I actually wrote a version of it for a French writing assignment, so one day I’ll post a more polished and relevant iteration. But it’s basically a commentary on how its first tellers felt monarchs should rule and on the social issues they wanted to draw attention to disguised as a children’s story. Of course, over the years numerous versions of the story have sprung up (sometimes the Raven King is an actual raven, other times the king is a person, etc.), but the way Erri tells it (and I’m sure many before him), the theme is “A king will protect their people” and this I would say fits him nicely as well. 

He perhaps embodies this sometimes in a more underhanded way than most would like, but it’s clear in the measures he’s taken to protect his family that he will do whatever is necessary to make sure they aren’t hurt, and he extends this to anyone he comes to call his own. He takes them under his wing and says to the world, If you hurt them, you will deal with me. I think some might attribute this to arrogance (the audacity to think that he could threaten them), and maybe he is walking that thin line between arrogant and not. But considering his winning streak in fights and as someone who went against a Wendigo Grimm alone and did a real fuckin’ good number on it, he has a certain confidence in himself for good reason. I think he understands he isn’t all powerful, and he isn’t this way because he thinks he’s above anyone. It’s more of an understanding that, Hey, I’m actually pretty strong and I feel good about that.

Even though he doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a king, or kingly, or even noble, he takes the protection of his own so seriously and it just devastates him when he fails (see anguish at being unable to stop Bel from being poisoned, see anguish at being unable to prevent his kingdom from being taken over which I may have not yet talked about in detail in Royalty AU, see anguish at being unable to protect his followers or to stop Feu’s death in Deity AU).

I think there’s also a downside in that, because he’s already decided to take on the burden of being this “king,” he’s reluctant to express his worries and fears to certain people (especially to Beltza). And it’s not that he thinks there’s anything wrong with expressing these things, it’s just that—he thinks that by only presenting his confidence, what have you, he shows those around him that yes, he is someone they can rely on, yes, he can and will protect them, and he wants to be that for them. And this is interesting to me because when people see Erri, they see this confident, fearless man, but he actually isn’t without his own fears and insecurities. I think that it stresses him out when he doesn’t talk about them for long enough, and every now and then it really gets to him. When it does, he doesn’t necessarily handle it all that well when left to his own devices. 

This is also really interesting to me when thinking about it in the context of Erri’s relationship with Bel growing up because Erri made sure Bel knew it was okay to cry, to feel sad all while never crying (in front of Bel) himself; it was okay to be afraid of things, while never showing Bel his own fears; it was okay to ask for help, etc. And I think this actually really skewed what Beltza thought “being okay” meant and what strength was. Bel of course will realize that these things are different for everybody, but I think for a time he struggled with wishing he was more like this idealized image of Erri that he (and probably many others) had.

TL;DR: Erri is an irl rogue-ish Raven King (in the context of this universe), and he isn’t without his flaws. Let us all hope he doesn’t meet a tragic end (I say, as the one with the power to make it so he doesn’t meet a tragic end).

KORONE

For Korone, I’m using the story of Coronis, a lover of Apollo who had an affair with Ischys. Specifically, I’ve taken inspiration from the white crow Apollo tasked with guarding Coronis, who was cursed by the god in a fit of rage because the crow, having learned of her affair decided to inform Apollo first instead of gouging Ischys’s eyes out immediately. The curse was so strong that it burned the crow’s feathers black. As a note, I’ve seen some versions refer to the bird as a raven instead of crow, so I’m not quite sure how interchangeable the words for crow and raven are in this context (or if there’s a differentiation in the original language in the first place, I haven’t researched much).

In line with this whole idea of curses, her theme is probably “A curse can be overcome.” I still haven’t talked much about her backstory yet, and honestly I don’t know if/when I ever will because it makes me think of some Bad Things, but there were things that happened that resulted in her having this general idea of, I am a blemish upon the world. This additionally goes along with something I set from the beginning that every member of BKBD has gone through misfortune while at the same time are seen as bringing misfortune to others (whether that be they did bring, are bringing, or will bring). 

So far I’ve only hinted at this theme (partially because I just haven’t talked about my quiet crow very much) in her Semblance and some design choices. When she overexerts her Aura, her hair starts to turn white (and her Aura, which is typically black, might do the same, I haven’t decided). Whenever in the timeline she gets this outfit (which I want to update), her hair is completely white. And I honestly don’t have a logical explanation of why this happens right now, but I like the symbolism because it means Korone is healing, too. It means that she is overcoming this “curse” by her own power. 

BONUS for Erri from the other one: 9. Humiliating memories

I’m going to focus on one memory in particular here, because I think it captures this very interesting image of Erri, of all people, feeling humiliated really well. I feel like Erri’s the type of person who is shamed by little. He’s confident in his body, his abilities, his existence in general and he wouldn’t be adverse to showing either of them off (he doesn’t do it to be flashy, per se, but if the opportunity presents itself, he’ll certainly take it). And while he may act flippant, he conducts himself with dignity. And I think this is what humiliates him most, to have his dignity trampled on. Erri does not kneel for anyone. If he does, it is coming from a place of complete reverence and adoration. He is at their feet, at their mercy because he believes them worthy of that privilege.

So I think this is where the memory starts: He relishes in the power he was born with, in having autonomy and being able to move of his own volition. But after the Wendigo Grimm, after having his body stitched back together and taken to recover by a certain individual, he loses a lot of this independence.

At first it’s because he just cannot move—it comes with having limbs severed and having nerves and veins and muscle and bone forcibly being held together by another’s Aura. It’s excruciating (though over time, as his body adapts, it turns into more of a constant, dull soreness), but he knows, god he knows he should be dead, so the pain is something he can deal with. What he can’t is when someone constantly and purposely reminds him who saved him, the limitations now placed on him, and what that means for Erri’s abilities to accomplish his own goals.

To explain (and I may have discussed this in a previous post, I can’t recall), Erri’s fight with the Wendigo Grimm was…terrible. I posted a scar guide a bit ago, and basically where those magenta stitches are indicates the worst of his injuries. These are the injuries that would have never healed on their own, and frankly, they still aren’t healing even after he’s put back together. One day I’m going to make a proper post on how this Semblance works (maybe after I actually design the character oops), but for now I’ll say that these stitches can be taken out at the whim of the one who made them, or they’ll start to fade if Erri is too far away from the source (though, again as he adapts, he’s able to go farther and farther away without this consequence). What this means is Erri will fall apart. The pain starts first, then the bleeding, then he starts breaking into pieces—his hand falls off, an arm, his leg, etc. in whatever order. And this is what’s used against him, to get Erri to listen, I have your life in my hands and you will do what I say. And usually Erri complies because he knows that the missions given to him will, in the long run, help keep his brother safe. But this is where the disconnect comes in: Erri’s primary motivations are to keep Bel safe, while the motivations of his savior (though he hates to call them that) and the organization behind them are to, in a sense, maintain a certain balance. 

And I think this memory was the first time Erri tried to defy them, the first time he said, No, I will accomplish my own goals first. Maybe it’s something that involves Bel, maybe Erri just wants to be in someone else’s company for a bit. I haven’t fully fleshed out this scene, but I imagine Erri is about to leave whatever base of operations these two have set up. He makes one final check on his knives, a small supply of Dust, and is halfway to the door when a voice behind him asks, And where are you going? 

The figure is long and ghostly (certainly taller than Erri), voice not necessarily quiet, but with a soft quality and a lilt suggesting either amusement or thinly veiled annoyance. Erri knows what could happen here, but he doesn’t care. He’s very, very tired of following orders right now. And so he says, tacitly, Out. He knows immediately this is the wrong answer but hell, he’s in the mood to fight and he wants to know how far this bastard will go.

That’s not an explanation, Erri. They say it with a smile, one that’s curved and unsettling. It’s not impish like Erri’s, but there’s an implied threat to it, and it’s clear that they are displeased.

You didn’t ask for one, darling. He says the term sarcastically, darling, fully aware of the strange state of cohabitation by necessity he’s found himself in.

Sit down. The smile stays, but the voice gets a little quieter, a lot sharper, to which Erri replies, Thank you, but no.

Sit.I will not.Then you will kneel.

It all happens so quickly. The pain, the bleeding, and then—then his leg is the first to go. He’s forced to one knee, with almost the entirety of his other leg dangling by threads. He braces himself with an arm, they let that arm fall as well. It jolts Erri forward, forcing him to bow his head. And the figure knows, they know that this is what Erri will hate. He will hate being so conspicuously reminded of what he can and cannot do and he will hate being reminded that, in the end, he has no power here, and that is exactly why they made him do it. 

And Erri does hate it, so much that his face burns, so much that something vengeful claws inside him. He hates having his will taken away, he hates that he can’t even attempt to fight this. He is in so much pain, but he doesn’t scream or swear. He only lifts his head as much as he can and glares up at them to say, I will remember this.

#mono answers #teamnova #beltza erroi #erregaliz erroi #korone vrochi

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

A Double Black, Please

A soukoku fic that was based on a pun, posted on my AO3

Summary: Chuuya works at a bar in order to pay for his extra expenses on wine, and has been for a while. However, he can't help but be reminded of the one person that left him. He drinks a coffee, and of course, it's his luck that makes /him/ come into his life again.

Amazingly enough, despite the Port Mafia's expenses, the job didn't pay all that well. At least, for someone like Chuuya, who needed to have his therapy moment of enjoying the 'finer things in life'. Those things being wine. He wouldn't exactly call himself an alcoholic, but he noticed that ever since Dazai left him, he's been drinking more. Or perhaps it was the same amount the whole time, when one gets that delightful buzz in their head and blurry eyes it really is hard to tell.

However, such things made getting few, well admittedly more than a few bottles of wine difficult. Which is why, fittingly enough, Chuuya's behind the bar stand on this very night, polishing some glasses. Also throwing out the less than occasional drunkard is really another one of life's delights. With a sad eye he looked over at the cellar, his hat pegged on a rack and his hair tied up. Such a uniform really was illogical, what kind of idiot thinks that wearing an uncovered white top at a bar is a good idea?

Thankfully enough, no one seemed to recognise him. He chose this bar purely because of the fact that to his knowledge, none of the other of the Port Mafia went there. It wasn't a huge concern for Chuuya, even if they did. Even with another job, it was a chance where Chuuya could feel a semblance of what he considered to be 'free'. A place where he felt just as sane and just as deserving of a drink as anyone, where he (for the most part) didn't need to follow whims of higher-ups.

There was no baggage. Yes, that's what it was. Nothing compelled to remember, no painful reminders or loathing for even thinking about such a weakness. As much as Chuuya hated to admit it, it was the latter more than anything, because he simply couldn't forget or forgive-

"That pieceeee of shit." A low drawl came from a man who fell off the stool. "But I don't give nothin' to him no more, I don't give a shit." Thankfully, there weren't any glasses that were falling or smashed, as Chuuya leaned over, with great difficulty. Nope. Too high. For fuck's sake...He went around, scooping up the guy who was now just saying gibberish with coherent, "Done, fuck, shit"'s being thrown in between sentences. He set him on the chair, smoothing aside any drinks that would be beyond the alcoholic's reach.

"Yeah? People can be unforgivable sometimes." Chuuya nodded, 'The customer is always right, unless their brain has left', the motto of the bar. "You know, we were best buds me an' him." Chuuya rolled his eyes, if he hadn't this one a million times. "Even better buds than ol' Buddy Wiser over here...speaking of which, gimme." His hand lolled out, stretching to the bottle. "Rather not, sir." Chuuya swept up the bottle, considering to take a sip. No, it was just beer. He was better than that, at least, for now. He put it back in the shelves, causing a sigh.

"Y'all are the same. Unforgivable. You stay on my side when you feel it, then you switch em up and toss me aside for another...ah fuck, I don't know." His reaching arm slammed onto the bar. "Your car's probably getting towed outside, you've been here for four hours." Chuuya looked down at him, well, metaphorically. "You know what son?" "I'm not your son." "You an' me, got a lotta in common." He was staggering out the door, not able to push it open. 'Like hell we do.', is what Chuuya normally would say, but the guy seemed down on his luck. He got betrayed by his partner, and anyone who's getting paid and has experienced that can sympathise. "I do have to ask something, what did the bastard do?" Chuuya opened the door, looking out into the street, eyes catching a piece of paper on a smashed up car. "He swiped my fuckin' liquor from my house, that's why the hell I'm here in the first place." The ability to relate could only take Chuuya so far, and his expectation, as well as his faith in humanity caused him to literally, kick the guy out, slamming the door with a huff.

His fault for trying to find meaning. Chuuya sighed, retreating back to his post. It was a late night, and it was going to be a long one. He walked over to the coffee machine, which he thought was normally a shitty investment, considering people came here to get off their face and sleep, not stay awake. But for now, it was a welcome object (that is to say, he couldn't trust himself not to get drunk on the job, at least right now. One of the drawbacks of being a lightweight.)

He retied his hair as he waited for the soft hiss of the pot, eyes going askance at the door. Perhaps there's a little 'unnamed drunkard' in everyone. Perhaps Chuuya took pity at the familiar loss of thought at losing someone he thought he could...trust wasn't the right word. Chuuya felt a lot of things about it, but he never felt he could trust /him/, for better or for worse, who was to say.

'No. This was different, you're just coming up with excuses to think about it again.' The sentence rang in Chuuya's mind, as he took a sip, the warm burn of coffee not all that different to that of wine. It was enveloping, soft on the outside yet sharp on the inside- like leaning onto someone after you got injured in a knifefight. Each sip was another confirmation into reality. 'You're not an alcoholic, you're not a petty fuckwit, you don't have a smashed up car, and you have dignity. This isn't you, and you aren't falling apart over anyone, no matter how petty or important they were to you.' Chuuya looked down, a stained white of a cup staring back at him. With a stupid realisation, he realised that the cup was probably empty by halfway through the third thought.

He retreated to wash the cup, considering the bar was much more lulled than usual, the beginning a slew of people, and the end the common but few ones that needed to be picked away. Besides, if someone needed him they could just "Ding ding ding!" The noise rang sharply through his ears, unrelenting on any break. He set the glass aside, hearing the bell ring more and more. It was a measured ring, not the usual irregularity of someone trying to press for more alcohol. Chuuya walked over, before stopping immediately.

Because any training could prepare him for literally any other possibility. It could've been assassin or any stereotypical bad customer. However as this person could be possibly all of those, it was who the man before him that shook him more than anything. If it wasn't the bandages enveloping his arms, it was lilted voice, all too frustratedly detached from concern. "Doesn't anyone work here anymore?" Chuuya felt shaken up, telling himself mentally to just suck it up, go home and just drink until this seems like it never happened.

"Someone does work here, sir." Perhaps it was an attempt to hide himself despite being in plain sight, but even Chuuya found himself hissing slightly on the words. Dazai seemed to take no notice, either acting like he didn't recognise him, or if he did- giving no indication that the man before him was his partner that he ditched all those painful years ago.

"So, what booze are you having?" Chuuya asked, again a reminding himself. If Dazai was here, it would only be to get booze, there's no way he figured to actually do this shit to taunt him. "None, thank you. Just a coffee." Chuuya fought back the urge to glare at him. "The machine's there, right?" An obvious statement, taunting Chuuya's hesitation, still trying to grasp at the possibility of Dazai not figuratively fucking with him. "How do you like your coffee?" 'You piece of shit', is what he would like to add.

"Two shots of espresso, no milk and one sugar." Dazai smirks at him. A normal order...

"You know, you can just say it's a..." Chuuya stops himself, eyes widening.

"Double black?" And out of all the times that Chuuya wanted to beat up Dazai, this was at least in the top twenty.

"I honestly can't believe you." He settled with saying that, but not before grabbing the other's shirt collar. "You give me all this shit-"

"I'd love to talk about that, but I actually would like a coffee right now." Dazai beams, as Chuuya reluctantly lets his grip go, before making him the beverage.

****

"This...is actually pretty good." Dazai glances up over his sip, looking at Chuuya making sure that he paid the right amount. "Do you really not trust me that much?"

Chuuya shoves the money into the register. "Give me one good reason why I should."

"I gave you the right amount, didn't I?" Chuuya scowls back at the response. "You also gave me a right amount of ditching me, a few lovely years."

"I can't tell whether that's you missing me or you being glad I never saw you again."

"Both, neither, shut up." Chuuya avoids any further response, feeling a pained groan emerge from him at Dazai stretching his arms and adjusting his bandages, a surefire indicator that it would be a long night.

"I said I'd love to talk about that, though." Dazai glances at Chuuya, settling a hand on the other's.

"Pay for a therapist."

"But the reason I came here was for you." He hummed, pouting slightly.

"The reason you came here was for that pun."

"...I will neither confirm nor deny that-" "Dazai." "Okay, it was admittedly a prominent factor."

Seeing the look on Chuuya's face Dazai added, "Come on, I didn't come here just purely for the sake of the pun, and the coffee."

"Then spit it out." "No! It's the best coffee I ever had!"

"The reason, dammit!" Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Of course. My own fucking fault for playing along with your games." "Chuuya, it's not tha-" Chuuya cut him off, "No. You don't get to decide how bad it was for me. You don't get to say anything about the fucking hell I have been through."

Dazai took a sip, before exhaling softly. "You're right, I don't." He decided to take the plunge. "...How is everyone over there?"

"You don't care about them, so why are you asking."

"Fine, how were you?" He raises an eyebrow, and Chuuya can't fight the smirk off his own face. "Mori's been killing me with paperwork. To think, he just tosses Akutagawa around and barely even uses me aside from infiltration, damn ridiculous..."

"Is that why you took up this lovely establishment?" Dazai asked, trying not to let his eyes flit to the aspects of the building that would state that the place is anything but lovely.

"You gotta pay before you can drink." Chuuya shrugs. "Besides he thinks I'm too..."

"Risky?"

"He said a glass canon loaded with gunpowder and fireworks, but let's go with that."

They looked at each other, with a knowing glance. Ever since Dazai left, Chuuya couldn't use Corruption. Well, of course he could. If he wanted to... "I would've just tried to kill him, shoot him with that loaded fire."

"Well, as good as the wine is in hell, I do have other... things to live for." Chuuya sighed, "Even if we're rotten, things get better with time."

"Did you just compare our relationship to wine?" Dazai laughed, "I didn't figure you cared about me that much."

"I'm not wrong am I?" Chuuya brushed off the teasing attempt, smirking at the other's retracted expression.

"Quite the opposite, actually." Dazai sighed, "I can't believe it, but you're actually right."

"Are you satisfied?" A blunt statement, one that held...way too many implications. "You got what you and every mafia man dreams, 'freedom'."

"Ah you think so?" Dazai's expression falters for but a moment, "And you? What's it like being free?"

"I throw out drunk bastards so I can spoil myself the luxury of expensive wine because killing people isn't enough, you tell me if that's freedom." Chuuya scoffs. "But yes, I am rather enjoying this job nonetheless."

"I wonder if you're saying that because of customer obligation or because you know better than anyone that you love throwing people around and acting like you have authority." Dazai muses, taking a sip.

"Both, really." Chuuya exhales, a half-smile ebbing onto his face. "You're a lot more tolerable when you're honest, you know that?"

"But I wouldn't be myself if I wasn't an intolerable liar, now would I?" Dazai glances up.

"See? It's not that hard." Chuuya pats the other's shoulder, before looking down. He retracted his hand, too close for comfort.

"Just like old-" "Shut up." Chuuya brushes it off, hands robotically reaching for some wine before he even realises it.

"Hey, don't get drunk on the job- I've had my fair share of carrying you around." Chuuya pours himself a glass, downing it and just getting more frustrated. Didn't even appreciate it. He didn't even appreciate any of this.

"Well, you aren't my partner, so you don't get to tell me."

"Ah, but isn't the customer always right?"

"Unless they're being an intolerable shit-" Chuuya reaches forward feeling the bandages against Dazai's arm.

"Careful, Chuuya- you might start backing away again."

"The fuck I will."

"Why, because you missed me?" Chuuya's eyes widened, his grip tightening. "You're the one that told me I should be more honest."

"I'm not going to let go of you."

"Not like you ever did." Dazai smiles at Chuuya's anger- an expected reaction. However, out of everything, Chuuya didn't expect this sentence. "Neither did I, I guess."

"What's it like being free?" The words fall on Chuuya's lips again, heart too shaky to ask anything else.

"You get a choice of all the drinks in the world...but the coffee, alcohol and everything else are bland, and you have to make it all yourself." Dazai's eyes flicker for a moment at the the glass on the table. "Why did you think I ordered a double shot? Word association aside, of course."

"Knowing you, you have at least five ulterior motives to why you do anything." Chuuya rolls his eyes.

"Oh? And what five would be the reason I came to see you?"

"The pun, you actually wanted a coffee, you're a little shit and you wanted to fuck around with me..." Chuuya shrugs. "I wouldn't know the last one, it has been...years since you've bothered to show up again without either of us trying to put a bullet in each other's heads."

"Well, I came here to change that. How about I visit this time every week, order some-"

"Fuck that. I'm tired of waiting, and I know what the reason is." Chuuya sighed, before tugging Dazai closer, feeling the other's lips on his own, before pulling away- smirking at Dazai's dazed face.

"Another double black?"

"...I'd like that."

#soukoku #bsd #chuuya #dazai #my writing

[julystorms]

🔥 the X-files (I realize I forgot to include a topic last time so sorry about that)

{send me a 🔥 for some salt!} include a topic if you can!

The attitude within The X-Files fandom that codependency is romantic as fuck and super duper healthy is honestly revolting in its persistence and its omnipresence. It is literally everywhere.

It’s incredibly interesting to think and write about, absolutely, but it is one of the reasons I ended up gravitating toward focusing my shipping goggles on Doggett and Reyes, instead. There are some issues in their relationship, too, don’t get me wrong...but at least I don’t have to deal with tens of thousands of fanfics glorifying and romanticizing “they only have one another to depend on.” I’m sure I would have if the series had continued for another few seasons, but luckily it ended ha ha S10? it never happened and so the pairing was able to avoid the bulk of that.

I mean, this is just my personal beef with the series, but I really wanted Doggett and Reyes’s presence to dispel the whole “Mulder and Scully can only trust each other” shebang. Season 8 was starting to move toward that, with Scully telling Mulder that Doggett was a good person who was worth his time, but everything kind of went downhill from there. It could have been a great defining moment for the series to have Mulder and Scully struggling to trust and believe in Doggett, and through him, Reyes as well. 

But nah. The series catapulted itself off a cliff at the end of S9, and S10 which definitely never happened made it worse. (I am so bitter about Reyes being turned into an idiot villain character. So. Bitter.)

It really just set us right back to the middle of the series again, where Mulder and Scully can’t trust anyone in the world but themselves. And like, everyone romanticizes the shit out of it, but can you imagine being either one of these characters? Their only romantic option is the other because they’ll never be able to tell the truth or communicate fully with a human being who exists outside of the tiny world they both inhabit.

Don’t get me wrong; I certainly wasn’t shipping Doggett with Scully or Reyes with Mulder. What I wanted from Reyes and Doggett’s presence on the show was honesty and trust between Mulder & Scully and other people, proof that they were not alone/the only people in the world willing to do The Right Thing, and proof that they would still choose one another if there were others who inhabited the same headspace they did.

What we got from later seasons of TXF was a sad desperate attempt for a connection between Mulder and Scully, but what we should have had was MORE than that. I wanted to see Mulder and Scully being afraid to drag other people into their bullshit world. Scully doesn’t trust Doggett at all, but we never really get to see an internal struggle where she’s like: “I need to get rid of him because he deserves better than the kind of life I’ve resigned myself to.” This kind of attitude is never really leveled at Reyes, either, but for the love of God, it should have been!! She gets dragged into some serious bullshit at the whims of others and neither she nor Doggett are ever informed of the price they’ll have to pay until it’s too late.

Look, the way the series revolves around Mulder has always pissed me off, but the end of S9 was the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever seen in my entire life. We’re supposed to believe that Doggett and Reyes are going to put their lives and careers on the line for Mulder...? Bitch, please. If TXF wasn’t so busy sucking Mulder’s dick all of the time, maybe we could have seen some process there--how these characters who barely know Mulder come to the decision that breaking him out of prison when he’s on death row is a great fuckin’ idea. I MEAN A LOT IS AT STAKE WHEN YOU BREAK INTO A MILITARY PRISON LMAO. This isn’t something you do on a whim--and Doggett, especially, isn’t impulsive.

It’d be one thing if Scully was in there breaking Mulder out with them, but no, she wasn’t. Doggett goes into the prison with Skinner to break him out, risks his life and his career and his freedom to do this shit for someone who...we’ve barely seen him interact with?

Granted, I’m a writer so I can extrapolate a helluva lot and determine for myself why Doggett would risk everything for Mulder of all people, but hell, I shouldn’t have to do that.

(Bonus unpopular opinion: I bought into Kersh helping out in the “This is the Right Thing To Be Doing” sense.)

Anyway, the fans love that mid-series “the characters can’t trust or rely on anyone but each other” vibe, because they think it’s romantic.

The reality, though, is that it’s depressing and terrifying.

It’s awful to only be able to trust one person with everything; to have no other friends and no other serious relationships aside from this person you work with is scary??? I can’t even begin to describe how terrible Scully must feel sometimes, having lost a lot of good relationships over her inability to communicate honestly with her own family--all of whom love and care about her (yes, even Bill)!! But fandom in general is too busy being wrapped up in how “romantic” the whole “it’s you and me vs. the world” thing is to care. They conveniently only explore the romantic concepts instead of, you know, the shitty horrible aspects of it.

But you can’t have one without the other.

I mean, Mulder and Scully have been through hell together in the years they’ve known each other, but it’d be cool if their trauma wasn’t consistently used as romantic shipping fodder we’re supposed to ‘ooh’ and ‘aww’ over. Especially when the series showed us that Mulder and Scully aren’t the only people in the entire world who are willing to risk themselves to do the right thing. 

#I'M STOPPING NOW I'LL GO ON FOREVER #i hated all the mytharc that surrounded reyes and doggett being on the show #but i wanted mulder and scully to become friends with them #and find that they aren't 100% alone #and i wanted scully to have a female friend #and i wanted scully and mulder to have to worry about other people being dragged #into their bullshit messes which are terrifying #and i wanted a frank discussion of that shit #between mulder/scully/reyes/doggett #because they should know what they're up against?? #what price it is they're going to pay for getting involved?? #but nah txf was always too busy sucking mulder's dick #xfiles #meme responses #long post #poolsidescientist #replies to friends