Tumgik
#he's so edgy i need bandaids
nejiverse · 2 years
Note
Heyy can you write how it would look when y/n met port mafia members by accident bc she burst into meeting room bc she didn’t know they had meeting in that moment (bc Mori didn’t told her he forgot)and y/n is Moris wife? She met Black lizard squad, Koyo, Chuya, Akutagawa and Higuchi. If you need something with Y/n ability her ability have something with singing.
AN ACCIDENTAL INTRUSION
Ougai Mori
a/n: of course! love this idea and i hope this is okay!! fem! reader
cw: kissing, that’s it
Tumblr media
700 ish words
"Ougai~", you sang as you trudged down the vast halls of the Port Mafia base.
After healing some mafioso's with your singing ability, you'd searched almost every room but you just couldn't find him. You hadn't seen him all day.
"Not in here either..", you sighed with a saddened look.
You continued your search for your husband, remembering a few rooms you hadn't checked yet.
You were about to pass yet another room with no signs of him, but you put your ear to the door, hearing Mori's voice. You couldn't make out what he was saying but you were assuming he was talking to Elise.
"Surprise!! Hope you didn't miss me too—", your voice was caught in your throat when you felt a sharp knife at your throat.
It was Gin's instincts. She didn't recognise you so she saw you as a threat.
"Stand down Gin!!", Mori waved his hands frantically around so Gin wouldn't...y'know, kill his wife.
Once she received these orders, she took a step back and you were finally able to breathe again.
"What's a woman like you doing here?", Koyo raised a brown while Chuuya huffed with his arms folded.
"Who gives a damn? Can we wrap up this meeting?", he tapped foot against the floor impatiently.
"You haven't told them, love?", you inquired as you approached Mori and snaked your arms around his neck from behind, planting a kiss on his cheek.
Chuuya blinked a few times and let your words sink in. "LOVE?!", he shouted.
"Yes. This is my wife...so please try not to kill her, I can't do anything right without her by my side", he sweat dropped as Gin had an apologetic look on her face.
"I forgive you. You were only trying to protect my fool of a husband who can't seem to protect himself", you sent a smile Gin's way and she nodded in acknowledgment.
"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh on me dear?", Mori frowned.
"No, not really", you responded as you approached Chuuya.
"Wow, you're really as short as they say huh", as you put a hand on your chin and leaned close to him, he let out a 'tsk' and turned his face away from you.
"I'm still growing!", he retorted. Seems you struck a nerve..
"That's what every short person says!", you laughed and patted his shoulder. It was relatively true, most short people tend to say that even when they’ve reached the end of puberty..
"Hey why's there a bandaid on your nose?", you asked Tachihara.
"Well uh—".
Comically sliding over to Hirotsu, you put out your hand for him to shake. "Name's Y/n! Nice to meet you", he obliged, saying it was nice to meet you too and shook your hand.
"Edgy, I like it", she smiled at Akutagawa. Said man just sat there like 👩‍🦲
"Woah!! You're so elegant", your eyes sparkled as you took Koyo's hands in yours. "Your hair, kimono, everything!!".
Koyo felt a confidence boost as she thanked you.
"You too!", you looked at Higuchi and she blushed. She didn't get compliments like that often. It really made her day.
You made your way back to your husband and sat sideways in his lap, cupping his cheeks.
"And you, you're my favourite one of all, absolutely breathtaking", you giggled as Mori held the hand you had on his cheek.
"How do you manage to make me fall in love with you all over again every single time?, he placed a kiss on your lips, both of you smiling into the kiss.
Chuuya patently gagged. “Eugh, cut that shit out”.
You faced the mafioso's around the table, eyes glaring at Chuuya.
"You have quite the tongue for someone so short”, you huffed with narrow eyes. Chuuya was a pretty snarky man.
“What did you just call me?—”, he was about to stand up but Koyo sent a warning look to him so he decided against it and folded his arms like a child.
“Anyway…let the meeting commence!”.
"Actually, we were just wrapping things up before you came", Mori responded.
"Oh. Then this meeting has come to a close!".
masterlist :)
374 notes · View notes
Text
A Ramble on Beg (and to a lesser extent, Prisoner)
These comics actually mean quite a bit to me in very unique ways. I'll talk about what I can below and what themes I have/may be covering. There might be mild (and unintentional) spoilers- and if so, I'd appreciate it if none of what I write below the cut is carried out into the open and mentioned in the comments of future pages.
I'm gonna get a touch real, so please don't feel obligated to read further.
Let’s rip the bandaid off and say the big thing first.
I’m a bit of a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’ve been the victim of emotional abuse growing up, including and not limited to Gaslighting and Manipulation. For a very long time, I’ve been unable to trust myself or my memories. Still don’t, tbh.
I want to stress - I’m in a far better mind space NOW, compared to what I was a few years ago. I’m still healing, but I’m better. And I will continue to get better.
The comic BEG serves as an outlet… or at least as a canvas to describe some of these emotions. A huge running theme is Guilt.
Luigi feeling guilty for things that were always out of his control.
Peach feeling guilty for things that were in her control.
Bowser feeling guilty for a mixture of both.
Mario feeling guilty for making choices that seemed right at the time, but it actually only made things worse. In fact - maybe things would’ve been better if he had never involved himself at all. 
The idea is that you never actually know what is going on in your life or how your actions may affect others. How, at any moment, your entire life could implode. (Or someone else's)
Prisoner covers the need for retribution. When someone does a bad thing - there needs to be justice for it. Right? But who calls those shots? What defines a proper punishment? How do you cope with your actions or the actions of others?
…I feel like I have to stress that I don’t see any of these characters as ‘me’. But they’ve all been given roles that best represent what I’m trying to express here. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense haha… 
End of the day, it’s just an edgy story. Both of them. But I’m using tools most familiar to me to help make it feel like a good story. It’s exciting and a little scary. But like, in a good way.
28 notes · View notes
mgs3dickeater · 1 year
Note
oc ask game for RYAN only can i get, 5, 8, 11, 22, 23, 38, 42, and a picture of his coque et baulls pls thx
hi gwen.
5 - biggest fear?
being alone. most of his nights are spent with people he hardly even knows because he doesnt want to spend them alone. its not exactly what he genuinely wants, but its enough of a bandaid over the issue to satiate him.
8 - biggest insecurity?
woe is me im a horrible person so terrible so irredeemable everyone hates me wah wah please dont criticize me or ill cry !!!!!!! he wants people to view him as a villain but is insecure about looking like the villain.
11 - most embarrassing memory?
hm definitely not part of your humiliation fetish gwen. anyways. theres definitely soso many that i havent even thought of. his twin sister has definitely walked in on some horrible situations. he hardly has ever even had shame towards his sexuality in the first place, though. so im not sure if that counts.
22 - special interests?
photography, filmography, scifi, and theatre. shocking. i feel like the only one i need to expand upon is scifi. hes a huge trekkie. has so much star trek merch. wants to fuck kirk soso bad. hes a loser.
23 - favourite part of their body?
he may not have abs. he may not have sexy shoulder muscles. but you know what he does have? a tight butthole.
38 - guilty pleasure?
scifi, as previously mentioned, and i suppose shitty queer shows intended for teenagers. yknow, glee, euphoria, etc.
42 - most distinctive features?
definitely his hooked nose and edgy edgy emo demeanor. i see any dark haired man with a large nose and eyebags i go ahaha ryan!
and finally:
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
bugs-in-computer · 3 months
Text
WORLDS WORST BAD BATCH LIVEBLOG - EPISODE 1
-- DISCLAIMER: this liveblog fucking sucks and to understand my thought process you need to either read it while watching the bad batch or you need to have every episodes events completely memorised -- the droids are silly
this caleb guy looks about 12 whys his voice so deep
holy shit is that the bad batch from bad batch theyre here in bad batcj
omg crosshair is there
wrecker is just heavy tf2 ?? <- guy who has never played tf2
NEEEEERD (affectionate) (directed at tech obviously)
i like this woman i like how she talks she sounds like kanaya from homestuck ? like how ive seen her portrayed. the way she says 'do what they do' as if shes saying it in quotation marks i like tgat
WHAT THE FUCK H.ES. THE GREEN GUY HE'S THEYRE KILLINGTHE WOMSN WHST THE FUCK hply shit she did a flip WHAT THE FUCK SHES DEAD WHAT THE HELL
hunter (i think ?) did a little slide in the snow that was cool
crosshair why are you shooting this kid
HOLY SHIT HE JUST KICKED CROSSHAIR IN THE BOOOOOBS
crosshair is stereotypical-queercoded-villain-core listen to him talking
why os it raining is this pathetic fallacy
OMEGA IS THERE
ADOLESCENT HUMAN FEMALE
longass alien lady hi
the guys aer arguing
'you WANT to sit with us? that's never happened before' they're just like me fr
WAR WAR WAR FOOD FIGHGT GO GO GO
echo is fucking died
gonna go to the hairdressers and ask for the hunter bad batcg cut
this fellas got goofy pants hes observing them in the lasertag arena
this is like ultrakill thats like the drones from ultrakill
THEY FUCKING KILED WRECJER NOO someon get him a bandaid STAT
i like the sparks frkm the guns
is there a guide somewhere to interpreting these hand signals i wanna do that
GET REPROGRAMMED BITCH
HE SHOT THE KNIGE INTO ITS FACELIKE THE ULTRAKILL COUNS THATEAD FUVKUBG SICK AWESOME SO COOL holy shit
i like how Sharp goofy pants mans design is
omega: let mecome with youuuuu hunter: you are literally 12 fuck off
how is omegas head thingy attached how does that work
Creature Noises ?!
tech shut UP about his programming
there's guys ???????? like a little village
i like how you can see techs eyes it makes him look less hostile which makes sense because hes a NEEEEEEEERD
crosshair is monarchist scum sorry ✌️
BNUUY THING LOCATED
bad batch ipad theyer like bts to her /j
WHAT THE FUCK HE SHOT THE LITTLE ROBOT GUY THAT WAS SO MEAN
i hope this doesn't make me start talking in an australian accent oh god
Oh there's a guy there Oh theres many guys
oh they're naked (NO armour)
omwgas in JAIL
crosshair stop being all edgy you little bitch. 'good soldiers follow orders' youve been propaganda'd so hard boy. you are not immune to propaganda garfield image
'youre angry' NO SHIT OMEGA ok he basically just said that
is omega their tgerapist now
bruuuuh they took crosshai
homeboys being Analysed
don't intensify his programming !!!!! bitchass
this is so unethical all of it
theres so much good textures on this sjow
their BOOOBS are VISIBLE
soery i will nevr shut up about boobies
PUNCH THAT WALL BOY !!
'try it again. a little harder.' THATS WHAT SHE SAIIIIID
YEAAAA WOOOOO GET THEIR ASSES
oh my god its 2am. fucking hell i need to get to snoozin
ok i will finish the remaining 10 minutes tomorrow morning. (i did not do that, i stayed up to finish it)
they done poked around in his brain !!
oh my god the textures on this. im going insane
ah hell no he sjot wrecker in the boob
OMEGAS GOT A GUN
did they just like. abandon crosshair. i mean fair enough ig itd be pretty dangerous to try to un-fuckup his brain or what ever
omega was forced to eat cement when she was 6
oh they know a guy
--EPISODE 1 DONE--
1 note · View note
crowfootwrites · 3 years
Text
Los Guardianes | Part I [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]
I've been sitting on this for a while because I really like the story and want to make sure I do it justice. This is going to be a multi-part series. I hope y'all like it!
Warnings: references to playground injury | Words: 1,527
Also, oops, totally forgot to include my taglist 🤦🏼‍♀️: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie
Tumblr media
In the chaos that accompanied the start of the first day of school, you missed the shiny black Escalade that was pulling up out front of New River Preschool Academy. Your pre-K classroom was already noisy, the sounds of children chattering and laughing intermingled with the sounds of tearful farewells as parents prepared to leave for the day. A few children sobbed hysterically at their parents’ departures and you motioned for your classroom aide to attend to them while you answered questions from a couple of helicopter parents about naptime and the quality of the provided snacks.
You didn’t miss when a very severe looking man with long black braids and yellow aviator sunglasses appeared at the classroom door with a young boy in tow. It was almost comical, the juxtaposition of such an intimidating looking man, dressed in all black and sporting a neck tattoo, standing on your gaudy counting carpet. Your eyes flickered towards him as he tried to assess which of the adults in the classroom was in charge. You watched as the young boy tugged on his hand and pointed eagerly towards the bins of toy cars along your bright blue bookshelf. You politely extricated yourself from the claws of the two mothers demanding their children only receive brand name juice and made your way towards the door, navigating easily around crawling children and spilled blocks.
The man looked up at your approach and you swore there was a flash of relief in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by the serious, acute gaze you had witnessed at his arrival.
“Good morning,” you addressed the duo cheerfully. “I’m Ms. (Y/L/N). Who do we have here?” you asked, crouching down to greet the boy. He stared at his shoes shyly, shuffling closer to his guardian’s leg. You noticed the tightening of his little fingers around the man’s hand, and you stood with a smile.
“Cristóbal. Galindo,” the man offered quietly. “He’s a little nervous.”
“I see,” you replied with a grin. “Well, hopefully we can pull him out of his shell a little today. I promise, he’ll be used to us in no time, Mr. Galindo.”
The man’s stern expression lifted for a moment as he smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m – I’m not Mr. Galindo,” he clarified. “I’m Nestor. I’m the Galindos’ head of security.”
“Oh, I'm sorry! Little man gets his own security detail?” You hoped your teasing was well-received; Nestor didn’t look like the kind of person you wanted to upset.
But Nestor smiled at you. It was small, but it was there, and the tension in your chest relaxed just a bit. “Something like that,” he replied. He studied you for a moment before you felt a tugging on the hem of your shirt and tore your gaze away from Nestor’s to glance down at the tiny culprit: a little boy with cornrows was motioning to Cristóbal and holding up a toy Batmobile.
You chuckled. “Use your words, Marco,” you said gently. “You can ask him if he wants to play with you.”
Marco turned to Cristóbal, who was staring at him in bewilderment. But the moment Marco offered the Batmobile, Cristóbal was smiling, and the two boys scampered over to an empty spot on the carpet. You looked back up to see Nestor still staring at you, a strange look on his face. He seemed to snap out of it after a moment, and he fumbled to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. He handed you a business card.
“I think Mr. Galindo’s information is on the school paperwork, but if you have any issues and you can’t get a hold of him, I always answer,” he supplied.
You nodded and gave him a wry smile. “Thank you, I’ll remember that.”
With a quick nod, he was gone.
Your mornings went something like that for the next few weeks. As the kids settled into a routine and became more familiar with your classroom, drop-offs started going more smoothly. Every morning, Nestor dropped Cristóbal off, and picked him up every afternoon. Sometimes, you had the opportunity to chat with him, other times, he greeted you with a nod and then was on his way.
Cristóbal seemed to be thriving. He played well with others and followed directions. He was very inquisitive, which you found endearing. You knew, generally speaking, who the Galindos were, and you would have expected, coming from such a wealthy family, for Cristóbal to be very spoiled. But you were pleasantly surprised by his gentle and respectful demeanor.
On one otherwise uneventful Tuesday, Cristóbal fell on the playground and split his upper lip. When you attempted to call Mr. Galindo, per his information in Cristóbal’s file, he didn’t pick up. You remembered Nestor’s card in the top drawer of your desk and dug around to find it while you pulled Cristóbal onto your hip and he clung to your shirt, his little body shuddering as he sobbed.
You quickly dialed the number and put it on speaker, setting your cell on your desk while you dug out your antiseptic wipes for the boy’s lip.
“Nestor.” His voice was clipped and edgy.
“Hi, Nestor,” you rushed, not wanting to take up too much of his time, “this is Ms. (Y/L/N) from Cristóbal’s school. I’m so sorry to bother you, but Cris had a little accident on the playground today. I don’t think it’s anything too serious, but he split his lip and he’s pretty upset. I tried to call Mr. Galindo, but he didn’t answer.” You knew he could hear Cristóbal wailing from your hip.
The second you stopped speaking he was telling you he’d be there in twenty minutes. He sounded gentler by then, and you breathed a sigh of relief. In that moment, handling a cartel kid seemed way over your pay grade.
Nestor arrived exactly twenty minutes later. It was nap time in your classroom, so you had Cristóbal sitting next to you on a bench in the hallway leading to your room. The bleeding had stopped, and he held an ice pack to his face to help with the swelling. His feet were kicking gently, not reaching the ground, and you realized one of his shoes was untied. As you knelt in front of him to re-lace his red sneaker, you talked to him quietly, telling him about the last time you hurt yourself: tripping over your best friend’s dog at the park and scraping your knee. You told the story so animatedly that he was giggling behind his ice pack. Facing Cristóbal, you didn’t see or hear Nestor approach and when you happened to glance over your shoulder, you jumped to find him standing behind you. He grinned down at you, obviously trying not to laugh alongside his ward.
You rose quickly to your feet as Cristóbal cried, “Nes!” and hopped off the bench.
You could have melted into a giant puddle on the floor witnessing the tenderness with which Nestor interacted with Cristóbal. He knelt down on one knee, gently pulling the ice pack away from the boy’s face to assess the damage. His eyes were puffy from crying, his lip was swollen, and there was a robot bandage over the cut, but he looked ok otherwise.
“How does your lip feel, bud?” Nestor asked him quietly, his voice low and calm.
“It hurts a little,” Cristóbal replied, “but Ms. (Y/L/N) made it stop bleeding and said I was brave.”
You watched as Nestor tried to hide his smile.
“You are brave, chaparrito (shorty),” Nestor responded with a nod, ruffling his hair. “Is it ok if I take him home for the day?” he asked you.
“Yeah, of course, I – ”
“Hey, now I look tough like you do when you get hurt, Nes!” Cristóbal interjected as Nestor stood up, a grimace passing over his expression. You raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you.
He offered a rueful smile and shrugged. “Hazards of the job.”
“Thank you,” he offered appreciatively. “For taking care of him.”
“Of course. Happy to.” You took in his dark eyes and the set of his jaw. He looked more drained than he had that morning and you wondered fleetingly what he had been up to when you called.
Cristóbal grabbed Nestor’s hand and began towing him down the hall when Nestor paused. He glanced back over his shoulder at you. “Maybe the next time I need fixing up, I could come see you for robot bandaid?” he asked, his gaze sober and almost apprehensive.
Your mind raced, trying to come up with a suitably clever reply as your lips curled into a grin. “Yeah,” you managed, “I’ll make sure to stock enough for all your work hazards. I also have dinosaurs, if you’re interested.”
A small smile crept onto his face and he gave you a firm nod. “Very interested.”
Cristóbal tugged his arm and he let the boy lead the way out. Your breath caught in your chest, the stillness a distinct contrast to the thunderous beating of your heart behind your ribcage. Very interested.
Part II of Los Guardianes
289 notes · View notes
Text
Consequence of Our Love, Ch. 2: The Rooftop Where We Always Meet
Tumblr media
She looked powerful. She looked intense. As Chat Noir stood by her side, he became acutely aware that this Ladybug was no longer the girl he remembered. Chat Noir clenched his fists. Did she hate him for what he did?
She must. He did.
--
Consequence of Our Love is a pre-reveal, post-Hawk Moth AU exploring Marinette and Adrien’s lives as adults. | Read from the Beginning | Read on AO3
Rating: Mature
Chapter Warnings (Overall in the tags): None
--
She was already waiting for him when he arrived at the rooftop where they always met. Ladybug stood at the edge, staring out at the fading twilight sky. Her arms were crossed.
Chat Noir was struck by the intensity he felt upon seeing her. He approached her slowly.
Her super suit had changed. The once all-red spotted suit was now broken up with edgy swathes of black. Instead of pigtails, her hair was pulled into a straight ponytail, trailed with two long red ribbons. She looked powerful. She looked intense. As Chat Noir stood by her side, he became acutely aware that this Ladybug was no longer the girl he remembered.
Chat Noir clenched his fists. Did she hate him for what he did?
She must. He did.
He had never been able to return to Paris after what happened seven years ago. When Nathalie confessed to Ladybug and Chat Noir about Hawkmoth’s identity, and Chat Noir realized everything that bastard has done, he was filled with rage. He couldn’t justify his father’s actions any longer. Even now, when he thinks about how his father had forced his mother to stay alive, how he terrorized Paris for years trying to fix a mistake he could have avoided in the first place, how he tried to kill Ladybug-!
Chat Noir had known what he was doing, that day of the final battle. He had known that he might need to kill his father, and he was ready. He was so sure that he could do it. All that mattered to him was ending all of the pain.
But when it actually happened… When Chat Noir set his hand upon his father’s chest and watched as his body decayed and disintegrated into nothing…
He remembered the quiet afterwards. Bunnyx had told him later that it wasn’t quiet at all. His Cataclysm had spread like a virus throughout the whole Agreste mansion, shattering it from the inside out, and the massive, birdlike akuma Hawkmoth had made out of his mother’s body was screaming and throwing itself into the walls as its connection to its master was severed.
Bunnyx rescued them before the mansion could crush them. She let Ladybug out first, then turned towards Chat Noir, who stood in the middle of the burrow. Numb.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” He had asked her. She bowed her head.
“I’m sorry, Kitty Noir.” She hugged him tightly. He couldn’t muster the strength to hug her back. It was then that he realized what kind of life awaited him on the other side of that portal - a life where he was an orphan whose father was a mass terrorist.
“Bunnyx,” he had said. “I need to go away.”
“I know.” Bunnyx closed the portal Ladybug had gone through and opened up another one. When he looked through it, he saw it was the Startrain bathroom. He stepped towards it, then looked back at Bunnyx.
“Will you tell her I’m sorry? For all the pain my family has caused her?” He asked.
“No, Chat Noir. I won’t.” It was a bandaid on a stab wound.
He bowed his head and stepped through the portal.
Yes, he had known what he was doing, that day of the final battle. He was prepared to sacrifice himself for the safety of all of those he cared about, and that’s what he did. He had understood that stepping through the portal meant abandoning everything he and Ladybug stood for. It meant abandoning Paris. It meant abandoning his friends. It meant abandoning Ladybug.
But at least he was able to save them all. He wished he could have stayed with them after, to help them recover from the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s cruelty, but killing his father cost him everything.
He was broken. Alive, yes, but broken.
Chat Noir looked at Ladybug, cast in the harsh shadows from the city lights. Even seven years later, she still looked more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before. Guilt racked his chest as he thought about what he put her through. Whatever she needed to say to him, he would take it.
“You’re back.” Ladybug’s voice broke the silence, and he swallowed.
“Ladybug, I’m-“ he began, but she cut him off.
“It’s okay, Chat Noir. You don’t have to say anything.” She sounded soft and gentle. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
“M’lady-?“
“Look, I know... I know killing Hawkmoth must have been incredibly difficult for you.” She turned towards him, rubbing her arms. She didn’t meet his eye. “I know you feel responsible for ruining that boy’s life by killing his family. I understand why you would want to run away from that.”
Chat Noir stood speechless. He had expected fury, after all that he had done. But kindness? Empathy?
“I thought you would be angry,” he said. Ladybug laughed darkly and stared straight at him. He flinched. Were her eyes always so intense?
“Don’t get me wrong. I can understand how you feel and still be angry.” She walked towards him, and he stiffened. She drew back and crossed her arms.
“I just wanted to say that it’s okay if you don’t want to come back,” she said.
She doesn’t want me, he realized. Ladybug thought he was trying to come back, and she was letting him down gently.
Chat Noir looked down at his boots. He had considered coming back to Paris many, many times before. He had even bought train tickets on more than a few occasions. He deeply missed his friends, and he especially missed Ladybug. There was so much he wanted to say to her.
But as soon as Adrien would arrive at the train platform to leave for Paris, the memory of his father would stab at his body over and over again until he was forced back to his apartment, breathing so hard it felt like he was trapped in tumbling dryer.
Even now, he felt the anxiety jabbing at his chest, threatening to reclaim him.
Chat Noir clenched his fists. “I’m sorry for leaving, Ladybug. After everything that happened, it was the only thing I could do.”
“I understood why you killed him, Chat.” Ladybug argued softly. “You saved my life! It was clearly self-defense. I would have done the same thing if it was you in his grasp.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Chat shook his head. “You create with your powers. You bring something new into this world with every fight. I’m the one who’s supposed to take away what shouldn’t be.”
“What you did was necessary.” Ladybug reached out and touched his arm.
“I know.” He made no move to reciprocate her touch. She took her hand away.
“You could’ve stayed. I would’ve taken care of you. I would’ve made things better.”
Chat Noir grimaced. There was only one way Ladybug could have made things better, and that meant changing the entire fabric of reality to take away all of his scars and give him a family again. Chat knew what lay at the end of that road.
“I appreciate that, Ladybug, but even you couldn’t fix me.”
Ladybug shook her head and crossed her arms.
“You could… You could still stay. I can help you through whatever you’re going through,” Ladybug murmured.
Chat Noir looked at her in surprise. “You wouldn’t want me.”
“Of course, I want you.”
She… wanted him? Even after everything? He had abandoned her. How could she still expect him to be her partner?
Chat Noir tightened his jaw. He couldn’t accept that. Ladybug couldn’t want him. Maybe she’s saying she did now, but that’s only because she didn’t realize how broken he really was. He can’t even fight anymore. Eventually she’d realize that he could only bring more pain into her life.
“I can’t, Ladybug. I’m not coming back.” Chat looked straight into her eyes.
“Are you sure?” She said softly.
He nodded.
“Alright then.” The disappointment in her voice weighed heavy. She turned her back and exhaled deeply. When she faced him again, her fists and jaw were set in determination.
“Then I need the Black Cat Miraculous back.”
Chat’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“If you won’t be my partner, I need to find someone else who will be.”
“No, no, no, no, no, Ladybug, this is MY Miraculous!”
“It is NOT your Miraculous, and you know it!” She hissed. She inhaled deeply, trying to appear calm and rational. “The Miraculous belongs to the good of the world. They are not a toy to be wasted by someone who won’t even try to use its power to help others-“
Anger shot through Chat Noir. Won’t even try? She had no idea how much he has tried! He bared his teeth.
“Ladybug, I only came back to do what I should’ve done a long time ago, and tell you that I’m not coming back to Paris,” he said darkly. “I’m not about to give up the most important thing in my life because you want to keep playing hero.”
Her nostrils flared. “I need that Miraculous, Chat Noir. This isn’t a game - when the next threat to our world comes, it’ll need both the Ladybug and the Black Cat.”
“Hawkmoth is gone, Ladybug. It’s done, it’s over. We won. I made sure of that.” Chat held his hand over his chest and spat.
“There is no winning, Chat! As long as there is this power in the world, somebody will try to misuse it! People are going to get hurt, unless we’re there to stop it from happening!”
“The world is doing just fine. You’ve been doing just fine, Ladybug! We should be enjoying life right now, not preparing for a war that doesn’t even exist yet.”
“Maybe you can ignore the responsibility that comes with the ring you wear, but I refuse to let down the people who depend on me!” She hissed.
Chat let out a cry of anger. “You have a dozen Kwamis at your beckoning! Any one of them could be your new partner!”
“None of them would be you!” Ladybug shouted.
Chat stared at her in shock. She caught herself.
“N-None of them would be the Black Cat.” She continued on, looking at the ground. Her face grew red.  “Look, Chat Noir. I’m not asking for the Miraculous now. I know you need time to say goodbye to Plagg.”
“Before you take him away from me?” Chat Noir spat.
“Plagg has been alive for far longer than you’ve had him, and he’ll have hundreds of owners long past you. You’d always have to give him up eventually.”
“But I have him now.” He clenched his jaw and waved his hand. “Could you really give up Tikki?”
Ladybug flinched, then set her jaw. “The Ladybug Miraculous is crucial to the safety of the world. If I needed to give up Tikki for the good of the world, I would.”
The good of the world. Chat huffed in disgust as she used her know-it-all voice, as if he didn’t know what it meant to sacrifice for the good of the world.
“I can’t give up Plagg. He is all I have.” Chat said darkly.
“Then stay with me Chat!” Ladybug grasped his hand. “I can help you with whatever you’re going through. We can figure things out together! We can be partners again!”
“I can’t!” Chat shoved her hand away.
“YES, you can!” Ladybug grabbed hold again. “You didn’t even let me try! Let me try!”
Her voiced cracked, and Chat realized she was crying. Tears and snot ran down her face as she clutched his hand to her chest.
Without thinking, without understanding why or how he felt, he grasped Ladybug tightly in his arms. As she sobbed into his chest, he stared out at the city below.
Could it be possible..? To be fixed..?
Ladybug pushed herself away from him.
“When do you leave?” She asked as she wiped her nose with her arm.
“Monday.” He looked at her numbly, mouth slightly open.
“Then meet me Sunday night at midnight, right here. You have until then to decide if you want to give up the Miraculous, or if you want to try to be better.”
He didn’t respond. She pushed forth.
“I promise, if you stick with me, we can figure this out. You just gotta stick with me!”
Still, he didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll be here, Chat. Three days, okay? I’ll be here.” She assured him. “Please. Don’t make me take it from you.”
He nodded, mouth still agape. After a moment, he turned around and began to walk away. After another moment, he began to run.
Chat Noir raced to his hotel, transforming back into Adrien in the alleyway outside before returning to his room. The floor and bed were covered in legal papers and forms.
“Shit, Plagg,” Adrien said, slumping down to the floor. The Black Cat Kwami slinked out of Adrien’s shirt pocket and onto the floor next to him.
“I told you we shouldn’t have talked to her,” Plagg complained.
“I know, I know.” Adrien sighed and placed his head in his hand. “But I needed to face her. I owed her that much.”
“She certainly had her own ideas about what you owe her,” Plagg grumbled.
That she definitely did. Adrien sighed.
“Maybe Ladybug is right,” Adrien said as he twisted his ring. “Maybe it is time to come back. It hasn’t been that bad being here…”
“Are you sure you could handle that?”
“No, but what’s the alternative? I give you up?” After a moment’s pause, he hesitantly added, “Is that what you want?”
“Hey, I’m with you until the end, kid. Where else would I find a rich brat with a heart and wallet of gold who can fund my expensive cheese needs?” Adrien laughed and affectionately pet Plagg under his chin.
“You know, Adrien, Ladybug isn’t always right,” Plagg continued.
“Doubting her has only gotten me into a lot of avoidable trouble in the past,” Adrien argued.
“I mean, yeah, she’s right about most stuff,” Plagg conceded. “But she’s also laser-focused on what she thinks to be the noble, just thing to do.”
“Isn’t that kind of a good thing?” Adrien retorted. Plagg rolled his eyes.
“What I mean, Adrien, is that ‘right’ is a fluid concept. Everything you do or don’t do has consequences. It’s up to you and what you value that decides what’s ‘right’ for you.”
It took a moment before he realized what Plagg was getting at.
“You’re talking about leaving, without giving up the Miraculous.”
“It’s like you said. The world is doing just fine right now! Why should we force ourselves to keep sacrificing when we don’t even need to yet?”
Adrien took this in without a word.
“I mean, come on,” Plagg continued. “I don’t want to go back to the Miracle Box, and you don’t want to be back here-“ Adrien looked away and rubbed the back of his head. Plagg must have noticed his hesitation.
“Do you… want to come back here?” Plagg asked.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing. I mean, I made it here, in Paris! I thought I’d die if I ever came back, yet here I am.” Adrien said. “Maybe it’s not too much of a stretch to think I could eventually be a superhero again.”
“You remember what happened before when you’ve tried to be a superhero again,” Plagg warned.
Adrien did remember. Not long after he had left Paris, Chat Noir had interrupted a thief in the middle of his stealing, but just as Chat was about to land the blow that would incapacitate the thief, he couldn’t bring himself to strike. The thief escaped, and Chat was left overwhelmed by memories in a filthy alleyway. It was the first time Adrien realized just how much killing his father had broken him.
“Maybe this time will be different,” Adrien said.
Plagg looked hesitant, and uncertainty filled Adrien. Would it be different?
“I trust you, Adrien,” Plagg finally said. “I know you have it in you, and if you want to explore that, go ahead. But don’t feel like you have to just because Ladybug’s making you!”
“I want to try, Plagg.” Adrien said with a weak smile. Plagg gave a smile in return and rubbed his head against Adrien’s hand.
Adrien sat back against the bed and began twiddling his ring. Plagg settled down on the comforter above him.
“I wonder if Marinette is still up,” Adrien pondered. He sighed. “No, I shouldn’t bother her until tomorrow.”
“Right, let’s talk about your one-night stand idea.”
“It’s not a one-night stand. Just a friendly date.”
“And a stellar example of how the most powerful artifact in the universe should be used for the ‘good of the world’,” Plagg said mischievously.
Adrien stuck his tongue out at him. “Whose side are you even on?”
“The less boring one.” Adrien swatted at him.
“I need all of the distractions I can find to get me through this mess,” he said, grabbing another clump of papers. “Besides, I owe Marinette something. I feel so rotten for leaving her all alone. She was even angrier than Ladybug! She deserves a proper apology.”
And she makes me feel like everything’s alright, he thought.
Even though it’s not. He looked around at the piles of paper scattered about, threatening to overwhelm him.
“How are you doing with all of this?” Plagg asked gently.
“Not great.”
Scattered across his hotel room was the reason he came back. He picked up the closest paper to him. It was part of a series to submit the request for his mother’s official death certificate.
It takes seven years for a missing person to be declared legally dead. Had he never known about his mother’s kidnapping, he would have been able to declare her dead when he was 21 - but unsurprisingly, the story of Gabriel Agreste keeping his wife on life support in the basement of his secret villain lair made headlines. Everyone knew she was alive. When they couldn’t find her body amidst the rubble of the mansion, and when investigators found suspicious activity on her bank account a few weeks after her supposed death, there was enough doubt that she was alive that her missing status got reset. Thus his mother’s case was forced into the limbo of the legal system for seven more years.
Adrien had to come back to finalize the process. He hadn’t want to. He didn’t particularly care about whether the country of France declared Emilie Agreste dead or not. He knew she was dead. There was no changing that.
But persistent family on his mother’s side wanted to know what was in her will, and they wanted her many entrapped possessions and assets back in the Graham de Vanily family. He was ready to tell them all to go to hell, but Nathalie sat him down and gently explained that this was the proper thing to do for Emilie, so her name could be cleared and she could finally rest in peace.
Adrien thoroughly searched for ways to do the process remotely, but no matter how he diced it, it was far easier to maneuver the bureaucracy and lawyers in person.
Maybe it’s finally time, he had conceded. Maybe this time will be different.
So he called up his old bodyguard, rented a car with black out windows, grabbed all of the blankets from his room, and sat huddled up in the backseat with music blaring from his headphones until they arrived at the hotel in Paris.
As he stood in his hotel room, staring at the Eiffel Tower outside his window, Adrien had been filled with an unbearably confusing mix of ecstasy and terror. He was here. He was here.
Impulse control abandoned him, replaced by a deep, familiar desire for freedom. He had transformed into Chat Noir and leapt out into the city in broad daylight, something he had always strictly avoided. Before he knew it, he had attracted an adoring following, and the return of Chat Noir was trending on social media. His excitement was almost manic - at least until he realized that Ladybug would find out he was back.
Luckily, Chat Noir had known where he could find comfort in an old friend.
“I need to make this date amazing,” Adrien said. “Something she’s never experienced before.”
“You could have dinner on the top of the Eiffel Tower.” Plagg suggested.
“Too cliche, Plagg. And very windy. Besides, this night needs to encapsulate a whole relationship, not just one cheesy date.”
“I like cheesy dates,” Plagg grumbled. “Well, what’s a perfect relationship for you? Maybe try shoving that into a day somehow.”
Adrien tapped his foot and thought aloud. “It would be… comfortable. Exciting. Honest. Whenever I’d be with them, it’d be the most natural thing in the world. I could trust them with everything. No matter what we faced, I’d always know we’d be alright, because we were together.” He trailed off, lost in a daydream. Plagg tapped his owner’s head impatiently.
“Well? Does that spark any ideas?” He asked. Adrien smiled.
“I think I have one. Or a few.” Adrien pulled out his phone and began making calls. He was going to make this the most brilliant date Marinette has ever been on.
It was a nice reprieve from the impossible weight he felt hovering over his chest.
--
Read Ch. 3: Just Enjoy >>
Read the Full Story >>
3 notes · View notes
hyunsracha · 5 years
Text
alone with you — bang chan
word count: 1.8k
summary: unfortunately, you were a bit of a living cliche.
Tumblr media
you weren’t a fan of classic romance tropes
star-crossed lovers, bad and good kids, enemies to lovers, etc.
you thought they were stupid and cheesy and- who even falls in love with their enemy?
unfortunately, you were a bit of a living cliche
you weren’t exactly a good kid, you just didn’t like getting bad grades
being at the top of your class didn’t make you a good kid, okay? you..you were edgy!
right,,,,anyway!
since you were a good kid, you were obviously head over heels for….
that’s right! a bad boy
and he was your best friend! even better!
you met chris when you were in 6th grade, after he punched a kid in the nose for calling you ugly
“i just felt like punching someone and he has a punchable face...i didn’t do it for you...WHY are you smiling at me like that???”
you’ve been thick as thieves for the past 6 years
but were you close with the rest of his friends? not really
he had 8 others he kept in his inner circle, and they were all like him
leather jackets under white t-shirts, black jeans and black high tops, you get it!
some of them even sucked on lollipops during school, they liked being That stereotypical
i’m looking at u jisung
jeongin had suggested that they smoke to seem cool and edgy but he got a whack on the head from woojin so that didn’t happen
chris’s friends liked to call you a square as an insult, like you lived in the fucking 40s or something
but! you couldn’t get rid of them!
they fucking followed chris everywhere like little puppies!
“what are you guys doing here -___-”
“well chris is here so we’re here too!!”
“can you leave?”
“why would we do that?”
it was kind of exhausting
as much as you Liked chris, you just wanted to hang out with him as a friend :((
and you tried! many times! to ask him to hang out, just the two of you :(
but his boys always showed up and made it 10
like one time, you guys were at a cafe by your school, just drinking hot chocolates and talking
you guys had a seat by the window...you had said it was because you wanted to feel the sun on you
but you actually just liked how pretty chris’s eyes looked when the sun hit them :(
then you heard knocking on the window
“goddamn- what do you guys want?”
“CHRIS MY MAN!! HOW'S IT GOING :DDD” jisung had yelled through the window
changbin pulled on his arm, dragging him towards the front door where everyone else was heading
you had sighed
of course they had to come and ruin things :(
but chris didn’t seem to mind, so it was whatever ://
you actually didn’t mind his friends that much, it was just that you couldn’t get rid of them
chris would walk you to your classes, and the rest of his lil gang would follow behind
even jeongin. who was like two grades below and his classes were on the top floor
one night, you were watching tv in the living room
it was disney channel
moana was on! were you just gonna ignore the opportunity to watch moana?
no!
your parents were out at one of their fancy business dinners or whatever, you weren’t really listening
so you were alone
and it was fine, you were alone all the time at home, but this time … something felt off?
like it was a friday night, and you were watching movies with snacks and blankets and everything was so soft and warm
what was missing?
your parents? no, you were fine without them
but it was Someone...you just felt like you needed Someone
you were lonely
of course you wanted chris, but you would’ve taken anybody who wanted to hang out with you
and behold, there was a knock on your door!
you leaped up, basically sprinting to the door
it could’ve been your 50 something year old neighbor, but if it was someone to talk to 
then !!!!!
you flung the door open, your eyes widening at the sight
your best friend, mr chris bang, his head hung low, his hands clasped behind his back
“hi channie...what’s up? where are the others?”
he just walked in, heading to your bathroom
d-did he just show up at your house to pee?
he left the door open CHRIS CLOSE THE DOOR WHEN U-
“where’s your first aid kit?”
“what?”
“first aid kit. y’know, bandaids and shit?”
“why?”
“i need some fucking first aid, y/n, why else would i ask? for funsies?”
“ok dickhead.” you walked into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink
then you got a look at his hands and his face
his knuckles were cut up and covered in blood
and he had a cut on his lip, and a few on his cheek
...how was he still so pretty?
wrong time y/n, but ur thoughts are valid!
“christopher.”
“my name isn’t christo-”
“chan.”
“it’s literally just chr-”
“chanstopher.”
“what the fuck”
“what happened to you?”
“i…i fell down the stairs?”
“chris,” you pushed his shoulder down, pushing him to sit on the toilet seat, “i thought you said you wouldn’t fight anymore.”
“i haven’t been fighting, i swear it! this guy just annoyed me.”
“what did he say?”
“just shit about my mom.”
you nodded.
you knew from years of friendship that chris really loved his mom.
his dad split when he was little, and it really messed his mom up.
she was still working on making herself better again, so chris basically raised his little sister by himself.
you sighed, pulling out a cotton pad and wiping away some of the blood on his hands
“babe, you didn’t need to fight him. i mean yeah, he was being a dick but, you didn’t need to get hurt over it.”
“what did you just call me?”
your face flushed
“babe! like . the pig?”
“did you just call me a pig...babe?”
“ALRIGHT let’s get you cleaned up hahaha!”
you cleaned up his wounds, listening to chris hum
it was probably a song that he was working on with changbin and jisung
you always thought that chris was super talented, and that he could have a career in music
but he didn’t want that
whenever you asked about his plans for the future, he would just smile
“i’ll go wherever you go.”
“i mean like...for a job.”
“i’ll figure it out.”
you wrapped up his hands, your fingers bumping along his burning skin
chris was very affectionate, so you were no stranger to his skin
but every time you two touched, you still burned
you don’t really remember when you started liking chris
maybe it was when he punched that kid for calling you ugly
or maybe it was in 8th grade when he nervously asked you if you wanted to dance at your first school dance
or maybe it was in 9th grade when he showed up at your house to take you to homecoming.
you still remember the look on his face when he saw you all dressed up
“you- you’re so pretty.”
“what was that?”
“i said you look okay. let’s go, doofus.”
you stood from your crouching position, extending a hand for him to take
“i think moana’s still on...do you wanna stay for a little bit?”
you would never get over his brilliant smile
you two wrapped yourselves up on the couch, your legs draped over his lap
his hand rested on your thigh, absentmindedly tracing shapes into your skin, making you shiver
“so…,” you started after a while, “why aren’t the others here?”
“oh...i told them to fuck off.” his cheeks were red as he kept his eyes on the tv, refusing to look at you
“what? why?”
he didn’t respond, choosing instead to mumble about how he wanted to watch mulan after moana was over
“channie?”
he sighed, rolling his head back, “you’re the only person i wanna see right now. i don’t wanna deal with the guys or my mom or even my sister. only you.”
“was that supposed to be nice? i’m the only person you can Deal With.” you kicked at his leg
“hey! i Am being nice!”
“no! be actually nice to me for once!”
“i punch guys for you ALL THE TIME”
“that’s not nice you idiot”
“they say creepy things about you!”
“my hero.” you kicked his leg again, unable to keep the smile off your face
chris kind of had that effect on you
“okay fine. want me to be actually nice to you?”
“yes please”
“okay. you have the prettiest smile i’ve ever seen.”
“o-okay t-thank-”
“and the prettiest eyes. and the prettiest hair. and the prettiest everything. you’re so fucking pretty, you know that? i’ve always thought that. your heart is pretty, too. you’re so nice and genuine and you cleaned up my stupid cuts at god knows what time it is.”
“y-you’ve been nice enough now-”
“you’re everything to me. i don’t know where i would be if it wasn’t for you and your pretty eyes and pretty voice telling me that i’m better than this. god i….y/n i think i’m in love with you.”
a moment of silence
“no, i don’t think. i know.”
your heart was caught in your throat and you couldn’t breathe
“a-are you drunk?”
your voice cracked
smooth
“i drove here.”
“so?”
he slapped your thigh
“dick. do you think that lowly of me?”
there he was, looking at you, all pouty eyes and pouty lips, just telling you he was in love with you and then acting like nothing happened!
well, here’s your chance, y/n
take it
you took a deep breath, gathering all the courage you could from the air around you before slowly leaning into him
his eyes widened when he realized what you were doing, but then he closed his eyes and followed your lead.
you would never get over how you felt once his lips touched yours; fire.
the same heat you felt when he touched you, just on the inside
your insides were burning in the most painfully enjoyable way.
you pulled away first.
“okay, christopher.”
“that’s still not-”
“chan.”
“just call me-”
“chanstopher.”
“i don’t even know where that came from.”
“if you wanna be with me-”
“i do.”
“let me talk. if you wanna be with me, no more fights, okay? i don’t care if they’re talking bad about your mom, or your sister, or your boys. no asshole is worth you getting hurt like this, yeah?” you grabbed his hands, running your thumbs over his bandages
“what if they’re talking about you?”
“not worth it. no asshole is worth your pain, chris.”
“fine. i won’t fight anymore.”
“and tell your friends to fuck off more often. i like being alone with you.”
chris chuckled, a sound that make your heart scream.
“can do, babe.”
1K notes · View notes
envish · 5 years
Text
hey boy, you make me want to write a song
Also available on ao3
-
It’s been literally six years since I posted a fanfic, and I've always wanted to be writer so we might as well START.
DISCLAIMER!!: The song that Derek “writes” in his head is actually a Thomas Rhett song that I modified the pronouns on bc I was too lazy to write an original song plz don’t hate me or sue me Mr. Rhett. In this AU Thomas Rhett doesn’t exist lmao.
-
He doesn’t want to be here. After an eight hour work day at the pool Derek is tired, still grimy even after a hasty shower, and just wants to sleep until he has to work again tomorrow. But, after bailing on their previous outing, his friends had successfully guilted him into coming out to what looks like an impromptu bonfire beach party.
He scoops up his grocery bag (case of cider, a three-quarters full bottle of vodka, a bag of chips), and pumps himself up for at least a few hours of social interaction before exiting his car. 
“Derek!” Shielding his eyes against the glare of the setting sun, just starting to dip below the lake’s horizon, Derek spots Erica waving frantically at him. He heads in the direction of the fire and scattered blankets, sand already between his toes and under his heels. “You came!” As soon as he’s within distance, Erica flings her arms around him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes good naturally, but hugs her back. His friends are pushy in just the right ways, and Derek loves them all fiercely. “Don’t chirp me about it or I’m leaving.”
“I’ll hug your legs if you try,” she threatens. “Try me, loser.”
Isaac comes up behind him, ducking under Erica’s reaching arms to take the bag from Derek. “Hey Der, nice to see you - Erica, watch it - lemme put these in the cooler.” After Erica has finished thoroughly annoying him, Derek extricates himself, grinning despite himself, and wanders over to where Boyd is lounging on a frayed serape blanket
“Hey man.” Boyd presses a wet can into his hand. “Still alive, I see.”
“Despite Erica’s attempts at smothering me.” He pops the can open, chugging the cheap, bitter beer. He grimaces, wishing he had had the forethought to refrigerate his cider beforehand.
“You love me.” Erica plops down into Boyd’s laugh and he wraps one arm around her waist while keeping his beer from spilling. He blows a raspberry into the back of her neck and she giggles, squirming away from him.
His chest swells with a bloom of affection as he watches the two of them tussel, expertly moving his beer around their flailing limbs. He takes another sip of beer and holds back a gag. “Ugh. Isaac, can you pass me a cider? You can have the rest of my beer.”
Isaac snorts. “Sure, man. The cider’s still room temperature though.”
“Anything is better than this. I’m literally begging you.”
Isaac snickers, but fetches a can out of the cooler. “Here, you big baby.” The cider is barely anything colder than when he brought it from home, but at least he won’t gag after every sip. Beer is nasty and no one will ever convince him otherwise. “Scott just texted me. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”
 Derek is well into his second can of cider, loose limbed enough that he is slumped comfortably into Boyd’s side, when Scott and the others show up in a beat-up blue jeep and an old red convertible. They spill out, laughing and waving at them from the parking lot. It’s almost too dark to distinguish their figures from the darkness of the night settling around them.
As they approach, Derek recognizes almost everyone in the group, except for one broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped lanky boy with amber eyes, a ski-tipped nose, and a smattering of beauty marks. Although there is something vaguely familiar about his eyes, Derek is sure he hasn’t met him before. He would have remembered.
Feeling suddenly too warm and too big for his skin, Derek stumbles to his feet. It’s nearing the end of August, so the air is still heavy and thick as it settles around him. Derek rolls his shoulders, the fabric sticking slightly to his back.
The group of them finally reach the bonfire, and Derek waits for the introductions, stupidly. They’re a bunch of teenagers and twenty-somethings - no one does introductions, you either know someone or you fumble your way into knowing someone. The amber-eyed boy meets his gaze for a short moment before his eyes skitter away. Derek swallows, hard.
“-erek. Derek?” His head snaps up guiltily. Kira is wiggling her fingers in front of his face.
“Yes? Sorry, I zoned out for a second.” He has to physically stop his head from turning to follow the figure walking at the peripheral of his vision. 
Kira narrows her eyes, considering. “Hm. Distracted by something?”
He dangles his can of cider in front of her. “I am drunk ma’am.” He tilts the can up, frowning when nothing comes out. “And I am out of alcohol. Please excuse me.” He attempts to bow, and judging from her giggle, looks ridiculous for it. 
Also, the boy is by the cooler and Derek desperately needs to know his name. He tosses his can into the garbage bag, pinned into the sand with several large rocks, and heads toward the cooler. Scott is there, one tanned arm slung around the boy as they stand directly in his way. Derek would be annoyed if he wasn’t so smitten. 
“Hey.” Does his voice sound normal? Oh, God, he hopes he sounds cool. “Uh, could I get in there -?” He gestures to the two of them, hoping for the boy to slip in his name.
“Oh!” The amber-eyed boy jumps a little, shuffling away from Scott guiltily. “Sorry about that!”
Derek flashes a smile. “No worries.” He waits for a few beats, then turns to rifle through the mess of half melted ice. When he turns around with a wet can in his hand, the amber-eyed boy is digging his elbow into Scott’s stomach.
“Derek, this is Stiles!” Scott exclaims, suddenly and a bit too loudly. The other boy, Stiles, elbows him again, but turns to face Derek. “Uh, I realize you probably hadn’t met him. And, uh. Yeah.”
Pulse racing, Derek nods at Stiles in a hopefully-cool way. “Cool. Yeah, I don’t think we’ve met before? I’m Derek.”
Stiles smiles, a bit shyly. “I’m just here for the summer. Scott and I have been friends forever so he’s showing me around.” His fingers, wrapped around the neck of a brown bottle, are distracting. 
“Oh?” He shuffles closer, belatedly realizing that Scott is heading away from the two of them. “Where are you from?”
“Not far from here - I live over in the next county, but I lived here in Beacon Hills until I was, uh, ten. And then we moved.” He scratches the back of his neck, his face tight with what looks like discomfort. “But Scott and I stayed really good friends.”
Derek has a sudden, vivid flashback of a thin, waif-like child wearing a hoodie down to his knees with a bandaid across the bridge of his nose. Sitting in a hospital waiting room across from him. “I -  I think I remember you?” Stiles’ eyes widen. “Did you have a Mets sweatshirt when you were a kid?”
“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Stiles says quietly.
Dirty white sneakers, knobby knees, a packet of - “- Reese cups?” When Stiles smiles, his eyes crinkle. “I hadn’t thought about it in years. I think I forgot about it because - well.” Derek cuts himself off before he can put a complete damper on the conversation. “I just forgot, I guess.”
Stiles smiles, a little bit sadly and a lot in understanding. “You seemed so cool to ten year old me. I think you had a walkman and I was so jealous of you.”
Derek snorts, grasping at the new conversation thread in relief. “I was probably listening to Green Day or something equally ‘edgy’.”
“Definitely cooler than me, then.”
They’re interrupted by someone yelling “Derek!” He sighs, turning to see who’s yelling at him this time. It’s Isaac, brandishing - his guitar? Derek had left it in the backseat of his car, but clearly he had forgotten to lock it. “Come play some tunes, man!” Everyone by the fire turns to look at him, expectant.
Stiles makes a noise beside him. “You can play guitar?” Stiles asks. Then, under his breath, “of course you do.”
Derek shrugs, the back of his neck prickling with the sudden attention. “I’m alright, I guess. You coming?” He jerks his head over to the fire and Stiles nods frantically.
“Abso-lutely.”
He settles once he’s sitting down with the guitar under his hands, fingers lazily sweeping over the strings as he tunes the old thing. The guitar is old, gifted to him by his mother, but it’s well-made and will last Derek many, many more years.
“Any requests?” Derek asks, strumming a few chords. He starts to play Wonderwall with a shit-eating grin, Isaac flips him off, and Boyd gets up and starts dramatically walking away from the fire.
Kira snickers and offers “Van Morrison?”
“Brown-eyed girl it is,” he confirms, strumming a G chord, and then they’re in it. Derek might hate being the center of attention, but it’s different when he’s playing like this. With the flow of music under his fingertips, the singing voices cresting on either side of him, he feels a part of something. He’d never ever perform, but this? This warmth, sitting in a circle of familiar and not-yet-familiar faces, all of them suspended in this moment, together? He could do this forever.
Derek cycles through the usual fireside songs - Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, John Denver, Eagles, Tracy Chapman, Howie Day, Gavin DeGraw. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Derek catches Stiles’ gaze across the flames, his eyes luminous with the reflection of fire in them, and very nearly forgets to keep playing. And then Derek has to fight against the urge to start strumming an entirely different song, one about whiskey and smoke and stars and falling to his knees.
His fingers fumble on the fret and he hastily looks away, focusing on something safe - the fire, which reminds him of how it had looked reflected in Stiles’ eyes, so he looks at the sand instead. Dark blue in the shadow of the night sky, except for where the fire cuts across it in swaths of glowing orange.
After what feels like hours of playing, the energy of the circle has dipped and levelled out to something mellow and relaxed. Derek’s playing has mostly become background music to a number of side conversations, and at least one makeout session, so he starts strumming Closing Time before he puts his guitar away.
Someone snickers from beside him; Stiles has moved from across the fire to beside him. He was concentrating so hard on not staring at him that he somehow missed Stiles moving from his spot. “Very subtle,” Stiles says.
Derek grins over at him. Stiles is staring at his fretboard, his lashes dark against his cheek. “I’m glad someone appreciates my very subtle song choices.” Derek carefully packs his guitar up, considers leaving it on one of the unoccupied blankets, but decides to keep it on him. 
The night is so clear that the moon’s path is reflected on the rippling surface of the lake. The sky is dripping in stars and Derek desperately wants to walk along the shore of this moonlit lake, wants to hold Stiles hand while he does it because he is, apparently, the world’s sappiest twenty year old guy.
“You want to go for a walk?” Stiles asks. He’s already slipping out of his flip flops, chucking them carelessly over to the side, so he misses Derek’s (probably besotted) look in his direction.
“You read my mind.” Derek digs his toes past the warm sand into the cooler layer underneath. Stiles whoops and races for the shoreline, splashing into ankle-deep water. He is bathed in silver, splashing liquid moonlight everywhere. He looks like some kind of carefree, fae-like god, frolicking along the edges of a sea of stars.
Derek needs to stop writing song lyrics in his head and actually talk to the boy.
Guitar in tow, Derek follows suit and wades into the cold water. “Shit,” he swears, darting back out of the water. “It’s fucking freezing.” Stiles laughs at him as he sticks one toe back in the water.
“Didn’t you grow up here? Shouldn’t you be used to this?”
“I am a warm-blooded creature, thank you very much.” Derek gestures down the stretch of empty beach. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”
“Ooh, are you leading me to a secret hideout?” Stiles asks, excitedly.
“Well - no. But, it’s a close second.” This answer does nothing to deter Stiles’ enthusiasm as they splash along the quiet shore. After a few minutes, they come across Derek’s something - a small, hidden rocky cove out of sight of the rest of the beach. Most of the boulders here are wide and flat, perfect for lounging or sitting on. Derek leads them to a collection of rocks a little ways down, carefully setting his guitar case down and hopping up onto the rock next to it.
“Wow,” Stiles breathes, settling down next to him. “This is gorgeous, Derek.”
Derek is a cliche because he very nearly sighs out “yes,” in response while blatantly staring at Stiles. Instead, he forces himself to look at the scenery, which pales in comparison to the way the moonlight turns Stiles’ skin luminous and otherworldly. His skin is like the inverse of the sky stretched out above them; a pale, glowing canvas pricked with dark constellations.
“What song is that? I haven’t heard it before.”
Derek pauses mid-hum; he hadn’t realized he was humming anything. And then he realizes he’s humming the song that ‘s been writing itself in his head ever since he laid eyes on Stiles. Shit. “It’s original.”
Stiles raises his brows in appreciation. “You a songwriter as well?”
Derek shrugs, but can’t help the pleased grin that sneaks out. “I guess. It’s kinda unavoidable for me. Sometimes I just see someone - something, I mean - and I start mentally writing lyrics.”
Stiles hums, leaning back onto his hands. His legs, constant pendulums, keep shifting so that their knees knock together. Stiles pauses, letting his leg rest against Derek’s. “Will you sing me one?”
His guitar is in his lap before he’s even said the word “yes” out loud. He places his fingers against the fretboard, imagines places his fingers the same way against a set of ribs, a white throat, and begins to sing. He keeps his voice as low as possible, quiet and husky in the fragile not-quite-silence on this secluded strip of beach,
Hey boy, you make me wanna write a song
Sit you down, sing it to you all night long
I've had a melody in my head since you walked in here and knocked me dead
Yeah boy, you make me wanna write a song
And it goes like ooh, what I wouldn't do
To write my name on your heart, get you wrapped in my arms baby all around you
And it goes like hey, boy I'm blown away
Yeah it starts with a smile and it ends with an all night long slow kiss
Yeah it goes like this
Stiles’ eyes have gone a dark, molten amber; either due to being away from the campfire or something else, Derek doesn’t know. His hands are remarkably steady as he plays, despite his heart beating so hard it feels like it’s trying to leap out of his chest, directly into Stiles’ hands. Stiles has nice hands - long-fingered and strong-boned - and Derek thinks tt wouldn’t be so bad, probably, if that were to happen.
His thigh is burning through denim where Stiles is pressed close, no longer subtly brushing their knees together. When he’s finished strumming the last notes of the song, letting them fade into the sound of rolling waves, he decides it’s now or never. Gently setting the guitar aside, Derek leans forward to almost-whisper into Stiles’ ear.
“Hey, Stiles,” Derek whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you now?”
Stiles’ scrunches his nose up into a shy smile and he nods, swaying toward Derek.
Derek catches him behind the neck, thumb in front of one blushing ear, and rushes to meet him halfway in a bruising kiss. He’s just drunk enough that he feels loose and floaty, but not clumsy and sloppy. He’s clear-headed enough to feel the nerves and butterflies inside him roll into a low buzz of excitement as he leans into the kiss.
Stiles runs his tongue over Derek’s bottom lip, one hand sliding up into Derek’s hair and the other is warm on Derek’s thigh. He tugs gently, pulling Derek closer, and he moves into it. Kissing Stiles is like the waves sliding up on the shore, tugged by the moon’s gravity, except Derek is the water and Stiles is his moon.
When they separate to breathe and calm their racing hearts down, Derek keeps Stiles close with an arm settled around his waist. He looks breathtaking in the moonlight, with his hair unruly and his lips reddened, so Derek tells him. Stiles flushes, squirming a little, but beams at him. “Derek Hale, are you a romantic?” he teases.
“Only around you,” Derek replies honestly.
“Oh, you’re so unfair.” Stiles ducks his head down so blow a raspberry against Dereks’ throat in apparent retaliation. He kisses the same spot right after and Derek shivers.
“What?” Derek’s lost the thread of the conversation somehow.
“S’not fair that you’re hot and romantic and ernest about it,” Stiles explains. “You’re going to kill me.”
Oh. Derek smiles at him helplessly, shrugging his shoulders. He can’t think of anything funny to say back; his mind is writing lyrics again and he can’t focus on anything else. But before he let’s it run rampant, he has something very important to ask Stiles. He takes Stiles hand in his.
“Stiles, will you go out with me?”
That seems to startle a laugh out of Stiles, who appeases Derek’s offended look immediately. “Wait, wait, I’m not laughing at you, I just. You had your tongue down my throat five minutes ago and now you’re asking me out like a gentleman.”
“Well, I wanted to be clear that I, y’know, like you. Like in a date-you way not just in a this”, Derek motions between them, “way.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit. He always messes things up somehow. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not!” Stiles holds their clasped hands up to his chest, speaking fiercely. “It’s really sweet, Derek. No one’s ever said that to me before, I was just caught off guard.” Any trace of the earlier teasing is gone, replaced by a very serious looking Stiles. “That was - you’re something else, Derek Hale. I mean that in the best way possible.”
“Oh.” Derek doesn’t know what else to do, so he just sits there while his cheeks heat up.
“And yes, by the way. I would love to go on a date with you.” Stiles smiles at him so softly that Derek wants to sing about sunlight and spring buds and early mornings. He doesn’t realize he’s started humming again, until Stiles asks him if he’s writing another song in his head. 
“Dammit,” he swears. “I can’t seem to help myself around you.”
Stiles looks impossibly fond and just kisses the corner of his mouth, asking, “will you play me another song?”
And Derek says, “always,” and he means it.
30 notes · View notes
pr-writingdump · 4 years
Text
“  Edge wanted him to…deal with the spider. Like, what, like a mafia hit? Take it out with the tommy gun, blam blam blam? “
Another Drabble 2, Chapter 7 by keelywolfe
Edge stalks into the rickety shack on Half-Moon Bay. He never likes coming to this place. It always sends chills down his spine, whether it’s the fog rolling off the bay or damp smell of rot that permeated the shack, he didn’t know. All he knows is that he hates that shack. He hated the moss that eats away at the ceiling and floor. Sadly, he’s as soft as the wood as far as the skeleton on the rocking chair is concerned. His lanky slender body sported a slick tailor suit. The dark blue coat allowed him to blend into his dimly lit corner but his bright orange tie lit him up like a traffic cone. That was stylistic choice that Edge would never understand.
He wearily strolls through the doorway, careful to avoid the weakest of floor boards. “Stretch.” Perspiration fumed between his teeth as he hissed the skeleton’s name.
A lazy grin spread across the lanky skeleton’s face, “you called, lover?”
Edge feels magic swelling in his cheeks but he manages to quell it. He is here for a reason, a very one at that. “I have a job for you.”
Stretch leaned forward, “you do?” He tips his hat to get a better look. “and what might it be? thought the Gambinos flew the coup.”
Edge dismisses it with a flick of his hand, glancing out the pane-less window. Out of his periphery, Edge notices a deep mirth spread as Stretch smiled wider, like he already knows but Edge asks anyway.
“There’s a colony of spiders.”
"oh, yeah?” Stretch says languidly. He wasn’t about to throw Edge a lifeline, Edge would have to spell it out word for word.
Edge keeps his eyes trained on the misty bay. “Yes.”
“The one that runs a speakeasy?” Stretch offers.
(Oh, for Asgore’s sake!)
Edge needed to rip this bandaid off before he throws a femur at this asshole. Stretch already knew. “No, the small kind.” Edge murmurs.
“one of--”
Edge snaps, “There is a infestation of Daddy Long legs in my bathroom! Will you help me get rid of them or not?” Edge huffs.
“maybe.” Stretch shrugs, “on one condition.” He strolls over so he’s only an inch away from Edge.
Edge steps back instinctively, wearily grasping at his magic. “What?”
“A kiss,” Stretch grins goofily.
Edge deadpans puts a hand in Stretch’s face. He can’t stand when Stretch made that stupid love sick puppy face. Stretch is supposed to be the strongest contract killer and pest inspector around, not a mf-ing romantic!
“C’mon, Edgy!” Stretch whines. “Just one?’
At that, Edge pulls Stretch in for a quick kiss. Stretch’s eyelights are blown wide and fuzzy, a drunken grin plastered on his face as he finally gives Edge some space. 
“now.. where’s da spiders?” Stretch cocks his tommy gun. “those spiders don’t stand a chance.”
Edge nods. He knew he had made the level-headed decision indicative of the Great and Terrible Edge. 
1 note · View note
dark-and-kawaii · 5 years
Text
Shinsou x Reader
“Shinsou with an edgy punky fem reader kiwi”
I accidentally deleted this ;-; sorry!!!
Art by Keiid!!
Tumblr media
There you were, sitting at your desk listening to Rancid like always. Your black vans tapping to the beat of the music while your head bounces up and down. You were so chill all the time, you never really focused on anyone except yourself and one other girl in class. Shinsou couldn’t help himself but to watch you out of the corner of his eyes.
Your dyed hair, fashion, personality, everything about you was unique actually. You kinda reminded him of himself, the only difference was the class didn’t see your quirk as evil, they saw it being cool. You’re a female though, so of course everyone wouldn’t think anything bad.
He wanted to say something to you, compliment you, tell you how he likes the way your nose ring looks, or how he likes your finger tattoo, something, anything, but all he does is sit and watch.
When you had first arrived Shinsou didn’t think much of you, he thought your appearance was interesting but that was about it. In his mind you were just like everyone else.
It wasn’t until some guy asked you out and you turned them down when he started to find her truly interesting. As the male classmates asked you out you were very straight forward, “I would let you down politely but i don’t want to waste my time, No. You’re not my type and truth be told i find you really annoying, not to mention you smell all the time. Go away.” Pulling out your perfume you sprayed the male whom just asked you out, your friend giggling as you did so. Shinsou smirking at his desk as he watched you spray the guy with your perfume.
Yup, Shinsou was head over heels for you.
It wasn’t until one day he was finally able to talk to you, and sadly it didn’t happen like how he had imagined it in his head. A group of guys surrounded him outside of school, they were teasing Shinsou about his quirk and how he should just give up on being a hero, that he’s just wasting his time. “You’d make a good Villain! You don’t even have the looks to be a hero! Just leave U.A!”
You were standing in front of a shop as you witnessed the scene take place, sipping on your cold coffee you wanted nothing to do with it, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to help Shinsou. As one of the guys shoved Shinsou you went ballistic.
Not even thinking you did what you did best. Throwing your iced coffee at the guy who just shoved Shinsou you start running up to the group with your skateboard in hand. “Hey! Asshole!” When the male turned around you nailed him right in the face with your skateboard.
Shinsou couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed, no really… HE COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. The girl he liked just ran up to the guy who shoved him….and she smacked the guy… in the face… with a skateboard.
The rest of the group started to crack their fist, they were ready to fight you after you just did that, but when you lifted up your skateboard hollering, “You want some too!!! Come on!!! Plenty more board to go around!” They backed off, picking up their unconscious friend from the ground they left in a hurry before you could smack anyone else in the face with that thing.
Huffing you threw down your skateboard, irritated that you just wasted your iced coffee, “awh man… seriously?… Why did i throw my coffee…” but you were glad Shinsou was okay.
Shinsou took note that you were looking down at your spilled coffee, “Can i buy you another?”
“Uhm, sure. That would be cool, thanks.”
As he opened the cafe’s door for you he noticed that you had a large blackcraft cult jersey on, rocking it with your black vans and some fishnet socks, on your knee was a bandaid and on you other knee there were a few scratches. He loved it. You weren’t like the other females in school.
Shinsou told you to go sit and he would get you your coffee but you insisted to stand in line with him. It was quiet. Neither of you spoke which was killing you, “Ya know. You don’t have to be so quiet around me. I’m not scared of your brainwashing quirk. I actually think it’s pretty cool, just imagine how many villains you’d be able to capture.”
He was taken aback, what? You liked his quirk?
“You’re just saying that to be nice since i’m buying you a new coffee.” He wasn’t buying it.
A vein popped up on your forehead, “I wouldn’t have just hit a guy in the face with my skateboard if i didn’t like you!! Ya idiot!”
Shit.
“Wh-what.” Shinsou stepped back a little, surprised at what you just said. Did he take it the wrong way?
You were calm and relaxed, minus your one eye that was twitching because you didn’t mean to blurt that last bit out, “I mean, your hair is cool too, it’s all purple and stuff… and messy like mine… I mean ya know.” You shrugged. “Ugh fine! Yeah, I think you’re handsome and i like ya! Happy? Ever since i transfered to U.A.. I always thought you were interesting, Shinsou. I hate how people pick on you, makes me want to hit them in the face.”
He couldn’t believe it, the girl he was interested in… was interested in him. “I like you too, ____.” Shinsou was rubbing the back of his neck. “When you transfered i didn’t think much of you, but as time went on you reminded me of myself… And you were different from everyone else, you don’t follow the cool trend.” He smiled a little, thinking about how you always got in trouble for wearing black fishnets under your skirt.
“That’s because i’m following my own path and joining my own trend!” you told him with a big grin on your face, “we only have one life, might as well live it how we want right?” You messed his hair up a little, “You’ll be able to become a great hero if you keep following your own path! Just don’t worry about anyone else and what they say.”
You were right, and Shinsou appreciated your words and he would hold on to them forever.
As you both left the coffee shop with your new coffee Shinsou carried your skateboard so you could enjoy you drink.
“So you like me huh?” Shinsou was smirking as he walked next to you. He wanted to use his quirk on you right now, he wanted to feel your lips on his.
You nodded peeking up at him, you saw his devilish smile. Your eyebrow arched knowing fully well what he wanted to do but his smirk fell. He stopped himself from thinking like that.
You both were at a park near your house, talking, laughing, explaining unique features about yourselves. It was getting late and you needed to get home though, so it was time to say goodbye till tomorrow.
“Shinsou, if you like me and i like you… Don’t you think we should do something about that?” You stepped closer to him, your head tilting up. Shinsou backed into a tree, he was nervous. No one ever got this close to him and he wasn’t sure what to do, even though he was thinking a big earlier.
Your hands rested on his chest, tilting your head you leaned in placing a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips were smooth, and your hands could feel his heartbeat increase speed. Pulling back you looked him in the eyes before leaving, “Next time you want to use your quirk on me, don’t hesitate. I wouldn’t mind too much, and i told you. It isn’t a bad quirk. I like it just as much as i like you. So please don’t be afraid to use it on the girl you like.” You winked at him before picking up your skateboard. “See ya tomorrow Shinsou!” You waved goodbye and headed off on your board.
Sliding down the tree, Shinsou fell to his ass. Looking up at into the dark sky, Shinsou smiled to himself. He never knew what it felt like to actually be liked by someone, it felt good, and he didn’t want the feeling to disappear. Not when it involved you.
~ Love Kiwi xoxo
360 notes · View notes
uas-fics · 5 years
Text
Part 2 of The Goth and The Vampire, a fic inspired by @bybasily ‘s stutters piece
Part 1 .
~~~
He didn’t get used to it.
Five months had passed, and being fed on was just as gross and uncomfortable as ever.
Raven rested his lower back against the top of the concrete barrier. The far end of the baseball field, behind the dugout, was a lonely place, tucked near the tree line, which made it perfect for smoking and the feeding in peace.
With one hand clamped against his shoulder, Butters gripped tighter to Raven’s front, his fingers balling around the fabric of his shirt. A rumbling came from his throat.
Rolling his eyes, Raven held his cigarette between his teeth, then reached up and flicked Butters in the nose.
“Stop it.” Raven snapped without looking back.
Butters took his teeth from Raven's neck, then rocked back on his toes until his back rested against the chain link fence.
He pouted while wiping the stray blood drops from his chin.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.” Butters ran his hand down from Raven’s shoulder to his mid-back. He let it rest there a moment before pulling it between his knees with his other hand.
“You can help moaning when you’re literally drinking my blood.” Raven took a drag, then purposely blew the smoke at Butters’ face.
He hated when Butters did that. It made his entire circulatory system ache every time. It also didn't help that it was just plain weird. Raven wasn't a particularly tasty slice of cake. There was no need to moan.
No matter how much Butters claimed to the contrary.
“But you taste real good, Raven!” Butters chirped, waving the smoke away. He rocked forward to wrap his arms back around his middle, but Raven took a step out of his reach.
Pulling from his pocket a large bandaid, Raven doctored up the bite mark. Butters looked away from Raven over his shoulder, lip out in a childish pout, at the trees. Usually Raven gave Butters twenty minutes to drink as much as he needed to get by. After breaking the no moaning rule this time, he’d only had eight.
It would be enough until Saturday. In the months since this all started, Raven had figured out how much  Butters had to take to get by. He had it down to a science at this point. The full twenty minutes was just Raven being nice and letting Butters take a break every few minutes to jabber on about whatever was on his mind.
Raven pressed the bandaid to the bite with a wince before beginning to readjust his shirt. He’d have to wear his jacket zipped all the way up again. How many times had he told Butters to bite lower down on his shoulder? It might have been farther from the artery in his throat, but it was so much easier to hide.
“I’m only good because I’m all you have,” Raven muttered.
Butters hummed to himself. “Nah, that ain't it. You just taste good, better than some of the other people I’ve had.”
“You’ve had, like, two other people, one of which was Eric Cartman. It’s not much competition.” Raven stole a step back to slide down the side of the concrete barrier to the ground.
Apparently, when Butters was first turned, he tried to ignore his hunger, but it grew too strong for him and started to cloud his mind. Seeing Cartman through an unlocked window, he acted out of instinct instead of thought.
Somehow Cartman being one of Butters ‘victims’ seemed fitting to Raven. Cartman had always been pushing Butters around, bullying and tricking him. Raven figured sooner or later Butters would snap and somehow get revenge on his bully. Honestly, Raven wasn't sure how Butters hadn't gone out of his way to get back at all the people who were mean to him in elementary school. He had the power to do it, but his good heart must have held him back.
Butters stuck out his tongue. “Eric tasted like lard — lard, rot, whip cream, and cheesy poofs. It was icky.”
“What about your ex-friend?” Raven took a drag. “How’d he taste?”
He hadn’t gotten Butters to spill whom the friend he had a falling out with was. He had, however, narrowed it down to either being Kyle Broflovski or Kenny McCormick. They were both old friends with Butters and, as far as Raven could remember, good enough people who would be willing to help Butters out — for a preppy know it all and a dirty pervert, anyway.
“Oh, he was interesting.” Butters looked up at the dreary sky. “Tasted like cherry, not real cherry, though, the fake kind they put in Poptarts, and something else. The something else was good, really good, but icky at the same time. Like...” He screwed up his face in thought, "grill steak and burnt bread.”
Raven tried to imagine that taste, but couldn’t get all the flavors to cross. He nearly asked what he tasted like, but the school bell cut him off before he could open his mouth.
Butters jumped to his feet. “Math class time!” He said in a sing-song voice.
Raven rolled his eyes. Butters, the vampire dork, who lived for math class that was his friend. Butters was an A-plus student in hall his math courses, though.
Raven heard somewhere that vampires had a tendency to count out everything. In days long past, that was how scared villagers would keep vampires in their graves: filling the grave up with tiny seeds that the vampires would have to count before they could leave. He’d wondered if Butters’ vampiric nature made his mind better at math or if he was already good at it before. Maybe it was both.
“I’ll consider heading to class when my eyes aren’t freakish,” Raven made a point to jab a finger towards his eyeballs. A side effect of being a vampire’s blood bag, his irises were tinged red for at least fifteen minutes after every feeding.
As Goth as it looked, it was a pain in the ass to explain away. Besides, if he had to deal with those emo brats gawking over his eyes being so ‘edgy’ and ‘cool’, he was going to vomit. At least being a Vamp Kid, Butters could pretend his weird red eyes were fancy contact lenses or something.
Butters smiled apologetically then leaped off the barrier. He landed on his toes with more grace than a normal human could ever muster. Butters took two steps, then stopped, spun back around and retraced his steps.
After digging in his pockets, he crouched down. “I only gotta ten today.” He slipped the bill into Raven’s hand. His fingers were warm, almost unnaturally so, against his palm.
Raven shrugged, then slipped his cigarette behind his ear. After running his tongue across his lips, he set a hand on Butters cheek, then leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips.
This part of their private time started as a joke. A month in, Raven commented he should start charging for his services. A moment after he had said that, Butters asked him how much would he charge for something like a kiss or a hug.
Thinking Butters was playing along, Raven jokingly replied, “Five for a hug, ten for a kiss, twenty-five for frenching, fifty for a handjob, and for a hundred, I’m yours for the night.”
He’d never expected Butters to take him seriously, but the very next Wednesday, Butters showed up with fifteen dollars that he blushingly pushed into Raven’s hands for one kiss on the cheek and a bear hug
Sometimes, Raven worried Butters would actually show up with twenty-five or more, but that had ever been the case. The closest he came was showing up with two tens to get four hugs. Raven wasn’t sure if his restraint came from respect or the fact he always spent his allowance the moment he got it. Either way, Raven was almost guaranteed at least five dollars four times a week just for showing Butters a little physical affection.
Butters giggled, his face pleasantly flushed. “Thank you for that!”
Raven grunted. “Whatever. Head to class. Can’t be a cog of society’s death machine if you can’t do arithmetic.”
Butters bobbed his head. “Right!” He exclaimed, a little too happily, as he jumped back to his feet.
“See you at the graveyard on Saturday,” Raven raised his cigarette towards him.
Butters paused a moment then offered, “If you want, we can have a sleepover at my house on Saturday. We could stay up all night playing games and then you could sleep in on Sunday, instead of going to church.”
“I’ll think about it,” Raven stated as if he hadn’t replied that exact same way every Friday when Butters asked him. Butters beamed then finally spun around to head back to class.
Raven ground his cigarette against the earth before reaching to pull another out of his pack.
In truth, Raven was not completely against the idea of a sleepover, but at the same time, the thought made his stomach churn.
He didn’t want to risk putting a name to their relationship.
Raven wasn't sure where he and Butters stood at this point. It wasn't that they weren't friends. On the contrary, Raven didn't think it was possible to have another man's lips on your neck willingly every other day for five months without some positive emotions turning up.
He just wasn't sure if his affections went as far as “crush” or “romantic love”, but they definitely were growing less and less platonic with every passing day. Sometimes, Raven wondered if they were platonic at all anymore.
At first, he chalked the positive emotions up to pity. He felt bad that someone who, really, wasn't all that terrible, was stuck spending his time with those douchebags, pseudo prep, Gothic subclass losers.
Since Raven started paying attention to Butters, he'd noticed that Butters just barely sat on the fringe of the Vamp Kids anyway. He rarely talked to them, and they rarely talked to him.
To Raven, it seemed that Butters just hung around with them so he wouldn't have to be physically alone.
But as time passed, Raven found his pity answer having less and less truth in it. He really did just enjoy Butters company, just like he had all those years ago. Even dyed in all black, Butters was a breath of fresh air from the heavy mausoleum air that hung around himself and the other Goths.
He put his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled.
If only he could piece together how Butters felt about the situation.
To Butters, were the butterfly kisses and hugs just a fill-in to actual romantic love? Was that why he never brought enough cash to go any farther? Was he too scared to risk his secret by getting close to anyone else? Was he using Raven as a stand-in for the girlfriend he wished he had?
No, Raven refused to spend an entire night alone with Butters. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found out he was just a substitute for something Butters couldn’t have.
~~~~
His mom's car wasn't in the driveway, but his dad's car was.
Raven cringed. Instead of walking into the house, he made his way to the garage.
The kittens had long since been adopted out to good homes, so there was no greetings of mewls this time.  As Raven sat down on a box, he couldn't help but smile to himself.
Butters wanted to “apologize” to the kittens for murdering their mother, so every night for a week straight he came in and left them little gifts of food in an attempt to gain their forgiveness.
It never worked. The kittens still hissed at and hid from him when he came by every time until they were adopted out.
It was almost as funny to watch as the time when Pete and Henrietta attempted to paint the kittens' claws black.
Raven dropped his bag beside him then began to tap against his phone. At least one of his friends had to answer. If he had an excuse, he could just pop into the house, dump his shit, then head out — the less time with his dad, the better.
He already knew Henrietta was a no-go. Her little brother was coming from out of town to visit, and she had to stay home. Firkle was probably still sick with whatever flu or cold was going around the elementary, so he didn't bother texting him either. That left Pete and Michael. He texted Michael first since Michael lived closer.
A few moments later, he answered, “sorry. babysitting. kill me now.”
Raven replied with a frowning face and four pistol emoji. He sent Pete a text next, asking what his plans for the night were. Pete’s trailer might be farther away, but Raven wasn’t above walking there in the cold.
He pressed himself against the corner made by the wall and a shelf, waiting for Pete to reply back when the door to the house opened.
His dad peeked in, looking around until his eyes landed on Raven. Raven tried to stand so he could make a quick escape, but his dad was faster this time and made it over to him first, leaving Raven boxed in.
“Hey, son, how’s it hanging?” His dad asked in that tone he used when he wanted to talk about something uncomfortable.
“Just waiting for death, like always,” Raven muttered deadpan, praying Pete would text back soon.
“Oh.” His dad took a breath, then let it out in a low whistle. “You know, Raven, I think we need to have a talk.”
Raven flinched back. “About what?”
His dad looked everywhere else but him as he said, “You know, stuff.”
Raven wanted to die. He didn’t want to talk about ‘stuff’; he wanted to be left alone. His dad had his opportunity to make a deep bond with Raven years ago, and he squandered it with snide remarks about adding color to Raven’s outfit and wishing his Goth ‘phase’ would hurry up and go away so he could 'have his son back’.
His dad heaved a sigh. “Look, Raven, I just want to make sure you're being safe, ok?”
“Safe? Safe with what?” Raven set his jaw. Did he mean his knife? Or how he walked home in the dark? His dad never cared before, not until his mom flipped out on him about it after the night with the cat, anyway. Was that why he was doing this? Had his mom made him? Seemed a little late to be trying to be a good parent.
“Safe with, uh, well, you know, safe.” His dad scratched the back of his neck.
“If you’re not going to be clear about it, then just go.” Raven looked pointedly down at his phone, trying to urge Pete’s text to come.
His dad groaned. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and held out a thin, foil square.
Raven's eyes grew wide at the offered condom.
“I’ve seen the hickeys on your neck, son. I just want to make sure you and your little girlfriend aren’t doing anything that you two might regret.”
Raven’s mouth gaped open, his face going completely red. “I, I don’t — it’s not like that!” He pulled up his jacket collar until it touched his chin. “I don’t have a girlfriend, Dad.”
Realization flashed across his dad’s face. “Oooooh.” He nodded. “Well, if you and your boyfriend are doing stuff, you still need to be safe. STDs don't discriminate, Raven.”
Raven sputtered, but couldn’t for the life of him make a coherent sentence.
With a soft smile, his dad crouched down beside him then slung his arm over his shoulder.
“You know, it’s ok if you’re gay, son,” He promised. “I love you, either way. I just want you to be happy, and if being with a boy makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”
For the first time in a long time, something warm towards his dad welled up in Raven’s chest. When was the last time his dad had been this supportive of anything in Raven's life?
He might not have been completely right about it, as Raven still liked more than just boys, but it was a step in the right direction.
“I’d rather you be decked out in rainbows than all black, anyway.”
And then he took forty steps back.
With a cry of frustration, Raven shouldered his dad’s arm off him and stomped to his feet.
“Why do you always have to make it about you!?” Raven screamed. He stormed past him out of the garage.
“Stan, get back here!” His dad shouted after him.
Raven spun around and yelled back, “It’s Raven, you selfish fuck!” Without another word, Raven turned on his heels and ran.
~~~~~
It was dark, the wind was freezing, his phone was dead, and his eyes stung from crying.
What a way to spend a Friday night.
Raven pulled his knees to his chest then leaned against the plastic half sphere. He looked the eight feet down to the softwood chips that covered the ground around the playsets.
Another sob tried to force itself out of his throat, and he swallowed it down.
He could use a cup of coffee right now. That Tweak place was near the playground, wasn’t it?
He considered heading there but decided against it. He wanted to be warm but refused to go into such an ungoth place.
Or, that's what he tried to convince himself.
In truth, he just didn't want to risk running into anyone who knew him there. The Tweak's son was in his class, and all Tweek's friends hung around there on Fridays. The last thing he needed was a bunch of people hovering around him asking why he was upset.
No, he’d rather just suffer in the cold. Maybe he’d freeze overnight.
He curled into a tighter ball, burying his face in his arms.
Why couldn’t his dad just understand this was who he was? He didn’t want to play sports anymore or be the homecoming king. He was happy as a Goth, as paradoxical as that seemed.
His mom understood. His sister understood. Why can’t his dad?
A biting wind cut through his jacket. A few snowflakes slapped against his red cheeks.
Raven shuddered. He really was going to freeze if he stayed out here. Standing up, Raven looked towards the rest of the town. Henrietta’s place was closest, but the lights were all out at her house. She was still out with her family.
He turned, straining fruitlessly to try and see through the trees towards Michael's.
Even if Michael was home, Raven didn’t want to deal with Michael's siblings gawking over him and trying to rope him into playing with them. Firkle was sick, and Pete lived across town.
Setting his lips into a line, he let his eyes move to another house, just a few down from his own.
He took a breath and began to crawl off the playset.
~~~~~
Raven rubbed his arms as he stood in front of Butters’ front door. The snow started to fall down in thick heavy sheets on the walk over. The covering of white made it easy to sneak past his house but at the cost of freezing his extremities.
He reached up and knocked. It only took a few moments before the door opened.
“Raven?” Butters’ face burst out into a wide smile. “Well, howdy! What brings you here?”
“Sleepover.” Raven shivered. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”
“Oh, yeah! Come in! Get warmed up! I’ll get you some cocoa.” Butters ushered Raven inside. His hand lingered a moment too long on his arm before he pulled it away.
Butters rushed towards the kitchen, leaving Raven standing awkwardly in his living room.
Butters’ mother sat on the couch, an infomercial playing as she fiddled on her phone. His father was seated at the table reading over a newspaper. Raven didn't remember much of Butters' parents from when they were eight, though some far off recollection he couldn't fully grasp left a sour taste in his mouth. They weren't the nicest, he remember that much, at least.
When neither of them looked up or greeted Raven, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd taken. Something about them seemed off, but Raven couldn’t put his finger on how. Thought if it meant he didn't need to talk to them he was fine with letting the oddness slide. He would rather spend that time trying to blood flow back to his fingers anyway.
Just as the feeling returned to Raven's digits, Butters came back with a steaming mug in his hand. He pressed it into Raven’s grasp.
“Follow me,” He waved him towards the stairs. Halfway up, Butters leaned over the railing to call, “Raven is staying for a while. Maybe the whole night. We’ll be good though, so don’t worry.”
For the first time, Butters parents turned and looked at Raven. There was a subtle red haze around their eyes. Raven wasn't sure if they were really seeing him though or just acknowledging what their son had told them.
“Oh, welcome, Raven,” Mr. Stotch greeted. He sounded like prerecorded message. “You two have fun.”
Butters agreed, “We will, Dad.” He looked to Raven to ask, “Are you hungry? Mom can bring us some snacks if we ask.”
Raven nearly declined, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch hours ago. Instead, he just nodded. Butters then turned and called to his mother to bring something up for them to eat a little later. She said she would, then Butters led Raven up the stairs to his room.
He spun around as Raven entered.
“Well, what do you think of my ‘crypt’?” His eyes searched his face for positive affirmation of his decor choices.
Raven looked around. It was just a normal room, a bed, a dresser, a desk, a shelf, posters on the walls, and toys scattered about. Nothing really stood out as abnormal. save for some rubber bats hanging from the fishing wire by the windows, anyway. Sometimes Raven forgot Butters was suppose to be a dorky Vamp Kid until little bits of their subculture poked through like this.
Instead of commenting on the extreme dorkness of the bats, Raven walked around, pausing to look at all the knick-knacks and pictures on the shelf. When he passed the dresser, he stopped to peer into the cage settled there. Attached with clothespins, a note card with glitter and stickers on it labeled the creatures within as 'Evil Minion 1’ and 'Evil Minion 2’ and 'Miss Alice Cullen.’
A small brown and white hamster poked its head out from under a fake log. It eyed Raven for a moment then crawled back under after deeming him uninteresting. The other hamsters didn't even bother to come out from hiding to examine him.
“You can take a seat on the bed if you want, or the desk chair,” Butters offered when Raven stepped away from the cage.
Raven took a seat on the bed, sipping his cocoa. It was watery but hot, so he didn’t complain.
“Thanks, Butters.” Raven leaned scooted until his back rested against the wall. His arm brushed against the thick blackout curtains that covered the window. Butters claimed that, while direct sunlight didn’t hurt him, it made him itchy and tired.
“So, whatcha doing out in weather like this?” Butters hopped down on the bed. “The weather report said it was gonna be a snowstorm.”
Raven stared down into his drink a moment before muttering, “Got into a fight with my dad. I don’t want to head home, and didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Butters made a small sound of surprise before scooching to Raven’s side. He set a hand on his knee and offered a small, reassuring smile. Raven eyed his face a beat, then smiled back.
They stayed in silence. Raven greatly appreciated this. If it had been the other Goths, they would be biting at the bit to hear what happened, then proceed to bash his dad and his actions.
Any other time, Raven would be fine with that and feel validated, but not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to sit and warm up in the quiet of his thoughts.
The silence was broken sometime later when someone knocked on the door.
Mrs. Stotch peeked in.
“I made you boys some popcorn.” She pushed open the door. In her hands was a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn. Mrs. Stotch set the bowl on Butters’ desk then asked, “Do you want anything else? Have you have dinner yet, Raven?”
Her voice sounded a little too automated for Raven to reply with more than a shake of the head.
“I’ll cook you up something,” She said, then left.
As Butters went to retrieve the popcorn, Raven asked, “Ok, what is, like, up with your parents?”
Butters shrugged. “They’re being good parents. Caring, loving, respecting.” He turned back and his good eye flashed red. “Like I told them to be.”
He set the bowl in Raven’s lap before taking his seat again. Raven took a hand full and greedily shoved it into his mouth. He really had been hungry. No amount of angst and anger could cover that.
Around the popcorn, he said, “Oh, right. That persuade thing. I forget you can do that. You never do it around me, and you seem a little too nice to make someone do something they wouldn't want to anyway."
Butters pulled his legs up to cross them. He looked to the left like he was embarrassed. “Yeah, I don't like to use it. It's tiring and makes me feel kind of like a mean old bully if I use it on nice people. That's why Mom and Dad are the only ones I use that power on.” He smiled solemnly down at his hands. “It took becoming an unholy, blood-drinking monster to finally get my parents to respect me and treat me right. Kind of ironic, huh?”
There was a touch of sorrow in his laughter. Raven didn’t point it out. Of course Butters wouldn't use his power on normal, good people. His heart was too kind for that.
That sour taste filled his mouth again. A few more memories of Butters parents yelling and scolding their son in front of everyone rose up from the depths of Raven's mind,  Butters wouldn't use his power on good people, but his parents weren't good people. They never had been.
“You’re not a monster, Butters,” Raven told him after swallowing down the taste. “You’re just different.”
Butters’ cheeks went pink, and he looked away. “Ah, shucks, Raven. It’s ok. I know I’m a monster. I accepted that a long time ago. Besides,” he grinned, “if I wasn’t, I wouldn't have become best friends with you again.”
Raven’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly remembered why he’d never taken Butters up on any of his sleepover offers.
Butters’ brow knit together.
“Raven, you ok? Your heart is beating like crazy. Is it because I called us ‘best friends’? I'm sorry if I offended you about it, but you are. You're my very favorite person.” He beamed at Raven and made Raven's heart beat even faster.
Raven felt his throat clench as he looked at Butters' soft, round face smiling right at him. Any solely platonic feelings he held evaporated away with the heat of his blush.
Butters, the kind, sweet, chatty ray of sunlight, thought Raven was his best friend, his very favorite person.
Did that mean Butters liked him back then? Could this be the foundation of something so much more?
Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Raven made a snap decision.
“Do you have a quarter?” He blurted out. His volume took them both by surprise.
“Um, yes? I think so.” Butters rolled over to his bedside table and began to search the drawers. As he did, Raven swallowed down the rest of his cocoa then set the cup and bowl of popcorn carefully on the window sill.
The snow came down just as thickly as before, maybe even more so. It covered the road to the point it was impossible to tell where the sidewalk ended and the street began.
“Got one!” Butters announced as he held up the coin. Raven held his hand flat to take the quarter. Butters dropped it in his hand.
“Alright, just for tonight, I’m giving you a deal,” Raven said as he closed his fist around the coin. “Ninety-percent off the original price.”
Butters cocked his head to the side. Raven watched him do the calculations in his head for a few heartbeats before Raven’s offer clicked. His eyes grew wide.
“Raven, you...” His voice puttered out. He took a shaking breath, looking away, “Ha-ha, um, not to be rude, but a quarter wouldn't be ninety-nine off of fifteen.”
"It's not off of fifteen. It's off twenty-five."
Butters mouth opened into a large o-shape before he laughed again. "I don't think that's quite right either, math-mathemat...tical...ly...errr." His knuckles bumped against each other in front of him. He didn't turn his gaze up at Raven. He didn't look upset, only flustered.
“Either way, that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Raven pocketed his payment. He didn’t plan on giving it back, no matter what he chose.
“Take it! I take it!” Butters lunged forward, planting his hands on either side of Raven. Their faces were inches apart. From the end of his nose to the tips of his ears, every part of Butters' face was red. Raven's face wasn't much better.
As Butters moved in to press their lips together, Raven raised his hand and put it between them.
“I have one question.” He took a breath. “No matter what you say, we can still make out or whatever, I don’t care, but I have to know.”
“What is it?” Butters asked, falling to his knees.
“Do you like me? Like, not as a friend. Is that why you keep paying me for hugs and kisses? Or is it because I’m your only option?” He braced himself for the impending disappointment.
Butters’ lips twitched up before he snickered into his hand. “Well, of course, I like you more than a friend! I wouldn't pay for kisses if I didn’t. I just wasn't sure if you liked me back, you know? I mean, golly, Raven, you’re really handsome and down to earth, and you're the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, even to a nasty, old, cat killer like me. What isn’t there to like?”
A weight Raven hadn’t realized he was carrying fell from his shoulders. He lowered his hand a few inches, before slipping it around Butters’ head and pulling him close.
The kiss was different from every other they shared.  This wasn’t a peck on the lips where they both held back their feelings. This had emotion behind their lips and Raven loved it. Butters lips were warm and soft and he never pushed himself too hard onto Raven. In fact, it was Raven who kept pulling him closer.
He found himself almost wanting to risk blacking out from loss of oxygen rather than end their deep, if somewhat clumsy, kissing.
Finally, he pushed Butters back by the shoulder, panting. In the end, his lungs won and he had to breathe again.
Butters seemed unaffected by the lack of air. His eyes sparkled and a goofy grin spread across his face. He wiped the saliva off his chin as Raven reached up to do the same to his own.
“Can we do that again? I have another quarter.” He started to twist around, but Raven shook his head.
“You don’t have to pay any more,” Raven told him.
“I don’t?” Butters practically shook with excitement. “That’s so great! So we can do that again, right? Can we kiss outside of my room? Like at school, or are we going to pretend we don’t know each other still?”
Raven thought on that a moment. A vamp kid like Butters and a hardcore Goth like Raven dating would cause a real stir amongst both their social circles. With any luck, he might be able to convince his friends that Butters was at least softcore Goth enough to be worthy of joining them.
As for what the vamp kids would say about it, well, Raven didn’t care. They can get along with drinking their Clamato juice and writing their Twilight fanfiction without Butters around.
“It’s whatever.” Raven raised a shoulder. “I don't care, and if I ask them, my friends — ” He winced, suddenly remembering his phone was dead. Now that he thought about it, his mom was probably worried too, and his dad was probably feeding her lies how Raven was overreacting and his dad wasn't being a complete ass.
“Butters, can I borrow a charger?” Raven pulled his phone out of his pocket. “My mom doesn’t know where I am. I don’t want her calling the police.”
Butters nodded, handing Raven his own phone, then took Raven’s from his hand. As Butters searched off the side of the bed for the charging cord, Raven dialed his mom’s number. It rang twice before she answered.
“Hey, Mom,” Raven said before she could speak.
“Raven! Oh, thank God, you’re ok!”
“Yeah, I’m at Butters’, um, the Stotch’s.” Raven crossed his legs. “It started snowing really hard, and Butters invited me in.” He caught Butters’ attention with a wave, making sure he knew the lie they were sticking to.
“So you’re alright? You’re not hurt?”
“No, Mom.” He took a breath. “Physically, I’m fine.”
From the other end of the line, Raven heard his mom shout the news. He heard his sister call him a ‘turd,’ but there was affection behind the muffled insult. He heard a few other voices he knew, like his Uncle Jimbo and Ned, but he didn't, however, hear his dad's through the din.
“Hey, is Dad there?” Raven asked.
“He is, in the living room, calling your friends. Do you want to talk to him?”
Raven wrinkled his nose up in disgust. “Hell no. I wanted to see if you could hold off telling him I’m safe. He deserves to feel horrible after all his bullshit.”
A heartbeat of silence then his mom questioned, “What did he do?”
Raven scoffed, “Same as always. He was a selfish prick.”
An exasperated sigh came through the phone. His mom knew how her husband acted all too well and didn’t need an elaboration more than that.
“I’ll talk to him,” She promised, though Raven knew nothing would change. “The storm is getting worse outside. Are the Stotches ok with you staying over tonight? Let me talk to an adult.”
Raven covered the phone with his hand. Butters simply nodded. He could hear the whole conversation as it happened. After shuffling off the bed, he darted to the door.
“Mooooooom,” He called, “can you come up here? Mrs. Marsh wants to talk to you on the phone.”
A few moments later, Mrs. Stotch stood in the door, Butters’ phone to her ear.
“Really, Sharon, it’s no trouble. No trouble at all,” She assured. “Raven can stay as long as he wants. I’m happy that Butters is spending time with a sweet boy like your son.”
“Ah, Mom,” Butters muttered, more to himself than to her. Raven wasn’t sure he would call ‘embarrassing your son’ good parenting. Maybe that was what Butters thought parenting entailed. Or maybe his powers didn’t go as far as Raven had thought.
Once their moms came to an agreement that Raven would stay until tomorrow when the storm was over, Mrs. Stotch passed the phone back to Raven. His own mom told him to behave, be safe, and that she loved him.
He told her he loved her too, refusing to meet Butters eyes as he did so, then hung up.
Mrs. Stotch clasped her hands in front of her. “I need to get back to the kitchen.” She began to leave, only to pause and look over her shoulder. The haze that hung in her eyes faded for just a moment, and in the most human, and authoritative, voice Raven had heard from her, she ordered, “You two keep your hands to yourselves, young men.”
With that, she left.
Butters actually looked surprised. “Huh.” He said. “She actually did some good parenting on her own. That’s unusual.” Butters pressed his side against Raven's, kissing under his ear.  “Too bad I ain’t gonna listen.”
He paused, lips still pressed against Raven’s skin, before nervously asking, “If you’re alright with that.”
Raven turned his head then gave Butters a peck on the forehead. He wrapped an arm around his waist before resting his cheek against his hair.
Of course, this was all right with him. Might as well give his dad some real hickeys to flip shit over anyway.
~~~~
When Raven turned his phone back on a few hours later, he was bombarded with message after message, demanding to know where he was, if he was alive, and threatening him with violence if he was dead.
Ignoring the ones from his family, and flat out deleting those from his dad, Raven went to the Goth group chat.
“I’m alive. Fucking Dad was being an asshole and I left and my phone died. Sorry for worrying you.”
He didn’t think the last apology was all that Goth, but it seemed appropriate nonetheless.
Firkle was the first to reply.
“I’m getting you that replacement knife and stabbing you in the still beating heart.” His text held no emoji or indication he was joking. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t.
Michael and Henrietta’s messages came at the same time.
“what did ur dad do this time?” Asked Michael’s.
“Where are you now?” Was Henrietta’s.
Leaning against Butters, Raven replied, “He was a being a dick, as usual. And I’m at,” here, Raven paused in his typing to look at Butters. Butters was playing some point and click game with a cheerful anthropomorphic frog waving its arms in the corner. The game didn’t seem particularly hard, and Butters looked like he was enjoying himself.
“my boyfriend’s,” he finished, then sent the message.
That is what they were now. They both agreed on it a half hour ago. Raven Marsh and Butters Stotch were boyfriends. It still felt a little weird to wrap his head around, but he couldn't say he was displeased with this label on them.
At this point Pete joined the chat, being the first to see the message.
“Gross,” He sent, and Raven felt his heart sink until his second message came, “Who would want to date your sorry, flat ass? lmao”
Raven chuckled, earning a sideways look from Butters.
“Butters, you show up in selfies, right?” Raven asked.
Butters nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Yup!”
“Good.” Raven slipped his arm around Butters’ shoulders then held the phone at an angle above them. Butters flashed a smile while Raven’s lips turned up just a fraction.
“Are you gonna put fun filters on it? I know a site you can put a sparkly filter that makes everyone look like an anime character,” Butters suggested brightly.
Raven sent the selfie. Never breaking eye contact with Butters as he did so. Sparkly filters weren’t Goth, and a sparkle filter on a Vamp Kid would be a little too on the nose.
Everyone’s reply to the selfie came all at once, talking over each other as much as they could in a text-based conversation.
“WTF”
“You have fucking weird tastes, Rav.”
“is that a VAMP kid?”
“is he paying you?”
“Dude of all the people”
“That’s my brother’s friend”
“Why a douchy vampire wannabe?”
“who played that hello kitty game.”
Raven rested his head on Butters’ shoulders. “Butters isn’t that bad once you get to know him. I like him. He's cute and very nice. You'll like him too.”
He hoped his friends took the hint. He would be bringing Butters around regardless. Butters deserved better than those weirdos he hung around with now. At least his friends would talk to him and include him in their conversations. Raven would make sure that happened himself.
 “Is this going to be a Romeo and Juliet thing? Are you two going to die at the end? I’ll supply the poison.”  Henrietta sent.
“Can I stab Rav then?” Pete asked.
“i think hes supposed to stab himself,” Michael commented
“Do I die in this?” came Firkle’s reply. "Hope so.”
Raven relaxed. If they were wholly against the idea of Butters joining them, they weren’t going to make their feelings known in the chat.
“Butters, do you want to start sitting with me and my friends at lunch?” He asked offhandedly.
Butters looked up in surprise. “Golly, would they be ok with that? I don’t think they like me much...” His expression held more discontent than disappointment. Considering The Goths — Raven included — had often mocked both Butters and the Vamp Kids, Raven couldn’t say he found that too shocking.
“They’ll like you. I can see you have a Goth side in you. We just need to scrape off the bats and vampire shit.”
“You can’t get all of it, but you can sure try,” Butters said with a smile and laugh. He then added, “And, if you think they’ll like me there, sure! I’d love to sit with you! We can hold hands in the lunch line, and I can carry your tray for you!” His eyes sparkled.
Raven almost burst his bubble that, no, Butters would not be carrying his tray, when Butters continued with, “It’ll sure be swell to sit with people who actually want to talk to me for once.”
Raven let out a suppressed sigh through his nose, before nodding. Maybe having your boyfriend carry your tray for you was more of a preppy relationship mood than a Goth one, but he supposed he could allow it. He would just need to remember to bring a large book or something with him so it looked like his hands were too full to carry it himself.
More than satisfied, Butters when back to his game and Raven adjusted himself against his shoulder.
At least his worries were put to rest, for a few hours. Once he had to go home, his life would be a nightmare. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He didn’t want to admit he had a boyfriend to his whole family and answer all the questions that would bring. He really didn’t want to have his Dad mutter forced apologies that to he was expected to return. He would so much rather stay at Butters, doing nothing and enjoying each others company.
Instead of dwelling on that, Raven sent a message to the Goth chat that he would be going to bed then idly watched Butters play on his laptop.
The frog in this mini-game was playing a swamp themed version of Pong, and Butters was beating it with ease. Raven's eyes wandered down to Butters’ hands as they zipped lightning fast across the keyboard.
“You’re good at this,” Raven commented.
“Thanks!” Butters chirped. “You can try next if you want.”
He declined, “No, I’m actually tired. Today was...a day.”  
All of a sudden, he realized just how exhausted he actually was. His whole body felt heavy and a haze of sleep clouded his thoughts. His eyelids started to droop.
Seeing this, Butters jumped into action. He closed his laptop then scooched over, careful to make sure Raven didn’t fall down. With a smile, Butters proudly swung out his arm to offer the bed.
Raven blinked tiredly a few times before asking, “Where are you going to sleep?”
Did Butters want to sleep together? Would that be weird? They only started dating a few hours ago. Wasn’t Butters the kind of person to hog the bed? Or was that Kyle? Raven couldn’t remember.
Butters shook his head. “I don’t need to, but you do. Go on. My bed’s really comfy, and I washed the sheets just yesterday.”
Raven didn’t protest that. Instead, he kicked his shoes off before crawling under the covers. Maybe it was just because he was dog tired, but Raven had to admit, Butters was right about how comfy the bed was.
“I’ll get the lights for you.” Butters walked backward a few steps to the switch.
“Thanks,” Raven muttered with his eyes slipping shut. All the stress of the day melted away under the warm blanket, taking his conscience with it.
~~~~
His mom nearly crushed him in her embrace the next morning with his sister standing close behind. His dad hadn’t come to the Stotch’s to pick him up and Raven was ok with that.
After taking a second to look around and deciding that it was safe, he raised his arms and hugged her back.
“Don’t you ever worry me like that again,” She ordered when she pulled back. His mom placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes.
“Sorry,” Raven muttered, but he didn’t go to move her hand. He let himself enjoy the maternal worry and affection he’d been avoiding for the last few years.
With a breath, he asked, “Did you talk to Dad? What did he say? This isn’t my fault.”
His mother sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, but his sister beat her to it.
“He said you were gay and that’s why you’re acting like,” Shelley gestured to him, “this.”
Raven’s face heated up. He took a step back, nearly bumping into Butters and Mrs. Stotch.
He grabbed for Butters’ hand, squeezing partly for support and partly as a point, before he stated flatly, “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t make me gay. Labels are stupid and for conformists anyway.”
A mild surprise crossed his mom’s face. She stood, shaking her head, as Shelley snorted into her hand and muttered, “Called it.”
“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble, Linda,” His mom said to Mrs. Stotch.
“Oh, he was a perfect gentleman all night,” Mrs. Stotch waved her hand. “Wasn’t too loud and didn’t make a mess, unlike the last time Butters brought over any of his little vampire friends.”
“Mom, stop, please!” Butters hid his face in his hands. Raven could see the tips of his ears turning pink.
“He was just wonderful,” she continued as if she didn’t hear her son whine. “There wasn’t one spilled glass of tomato juice anywhere.”
Raven tapped Butters’ side with their connected hands in a comforting display. Maybe Butters let his parents do this so he had someone to keep him humble, or maybe not. Raven would try to remember to ask later.
“Thank you again for letting him stay,” his mom replied. To Raven, she said, “Come on, honey. It’s time to go home.”
Raven nodded, disentangling his hands from Butters. He didn’t have mittens, but his mom had brought a coat with them. As he slipped the warm coat on, Shelley stepped closer.
She whispered, “He’s not going to try and break in through the window to suck your blood, is  he?”
Raven nearly choked on air. His brain floundered for a reply until Shelley continued, “Eric told me when I was babysitting him, Butters did that to him once.”
Raven turned the sigh he let out into a dismissive snort halfway through. “Of course not, vampires aren’t real, Shelley. Get your head out of those trashy wastes of paper you read.”
Shelley put a hand on his shoulder and then shoved him roughly towards the door.
He stumbled but rolled his eyes in the end. This was still a step down from the fights they got into when they were younger.
As his family shuffled out with his mom yelling one more thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Stotch, Raven took a few steps off the porch. The snow came over his shoes and to his ankles. He could feel some of it fall into his shoes and melt on his socks.
He shuddered, trying to imagine what would have happened if he’d actually spent the night outside in that storm.
A few steps into the Stotch’s yard, the door opened again and Butters hurried out. He wasn’t wearing shoes, but the cold didn’t seem to bother him.
He pulled Raven into a hug then kissed his cheek before turning back on his heels and headed back to the house. Over his shoulder, Butters chirped, “Text me when you get home!”
Raven placed his hand over his cheek, smiling softly. Shelley looked over his shoulder at his face then snorted.
“Wow, just went right head over heels, huh? Didn’t know you had a kink for short, dark, and dorky,” She taunted, earning a glare. Raven shoved his hands into his pockets and marched past her.
“Screw you, at least I have a boyfriend,” Raven grumbled. He heard the low, threatening rumble in Shelley’s throat and picked up his pace, only to find himself tripping over the sidewalk and falling face first into the snow.
~~~~
He knew it was stupid to think that, now that they were dating, feedings would be a less disgusting and uncomfortable chore, but he did it anyway.
It was Sunday. Usually, Sundays were off days, a side effect of Raven tasting, as Butters claimed, “too Holy and Churchy.”
Raven didn't know what that meant and didn't bother to ask.
But Raven had been too tired the day prior and church had been canceled the night before due to the weather, so they agreed it would be best for Butters to just come over on Sunday night.
The moment Butters snuck through his window, Raven made a vow to somehow get revenge on his sister for how correct her joking prediction had been.
Raven leaned slight back against Butters. Butters wasn’t all that warm from his trip between their house, but he was soft. Reciprocating the affection, Butters tighten his grip around Raven’s middle.
Raven then eyes rolled over to his door. He locked it the moment Butters came tapping against the glass, as he didn’t want his dad trying to have a ‘bonding moment’ by bursting in when Raven was supposed to be in bed.
He nearly winced thinking about his dad. When he returned home Saturday, his dad offered a begrudging apology, and Raven accepted it just as begrudgingly. He knew full well that his dad wouldn’t stop whining about him being Goth, but at least the current familial drama had subsided.
Until next time...
Before Raven could dwell on that thought, Butters pulled back.
He licked his lips. “Ah, that’s good stuff.”
Raven grunted, scooting back farther between Butters’ legs until his back was pressed against his front. Butters snuggled against him, slightly too warm breath on Raven’s shoulders.
Nonetheless, this was peaceful. Raven shut his eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock on the wall, the wind outside, and his own breathing.
He tried to hold tight to the feeling of ease and store it away. School, he knew, would be more of a nightmare than usual. While Raven wasn't one of those preppy, conformist popular kids, a shake-up of the status quo between the Goths and the Vamps would definitely cause waves that would spread throughout the school.
Not that he cared about what everyone else would think. He was way to Goth for that.
The only problem he should be focusing on would be giving Butters a list of every topic he wasn’t allowed to talk about, now that Raven decided to turn him from a wannabe to an actual, independent, nonconformist Goth — like him and his friends.
But that could wait until the morning — all the repercussions and preparations could wait until the morning. For now, Raven wanted to just enjoy the moment of peace with his boyfriend.
~~~
~~~
I hope everyone enjoyed! This was a lot of fun to write. I really loved the artist's work and how Raven looked just 100% done and begrudging in their art! =D
Feel free to follow me here or on Ao3 (UAs_fics) for more of my written works if you enjoyed. :)
32 notes · View notes
mons1erprom · 6 years
Note
JUST RANDOM HC'S FOR SCOTT PLEASE! I LOVE HIM! HE IS A GOOD BOI!
oh lord its the second time im doing random scott headcanons idk if yall remember my first one but it was l o n g ((this is also a long post so its under cut))
- Has gotten banned from Target for pretending to fight Damien with pool noodles
- Falls in love with everyone who’s even REMOTELY nice to him
- His favorite childhood memory is making homemade ice cream with his mom and all of his siblings
- He is the oldest!!! And despite common belief, he is very responsible when taking care of them.
- Very good with kids!
- Scott expresses his love for someone non verbally by making a note of their favorite thing so he can surprise them with it.
- He is very good at remembering small details
- Scott also includes someone he loves in everything so they don’t feel left out.
- Very physically affectionate with those he loves.
- Learned how to correctly slow dance just to impress his date at prom.
- His bedroom walls have those little stars that glow at night
- Scott orders off the kids menu at 99% of restaurants 
- He bites icecream
- He would absolutely sneak out of class to catch some pokemans. 
- He got into sports from watching games on tv and his dad used to play football at his high school, so he followed in his footsteps
- Scott owns those sneakers that have the lights on the bottom. Not sketchers but the Cool Edgy Ones
- Never reads instructions before doing things
- Has bunny slippers
- Surprising really good with a grill
- Sends friends texts as like 3 am with stuff like “Do people sneeze when the’yre asleep” 
- Scared of storms 
- However, he loves fireworks 
- Names his car 
- Actually, he’s a very materialistic person he names 90% of the things he owns
- Accidentally fell asleep for 25 hours and half his friends thought he whole ass died
- He sticks his tongue out when he’s super concentrated and his brows furrow
- SCOTT STICKS HIS TONGUE OUT OF THE WINDOW WHEN HE GOES ON CAR DRIVES
- Don’t send him to the store to get two things he’ll come home with at least a dozen other things you don’t need
- His hair is really really soft
- Wears mismatched socks
- Turns in all assignments at 11:58 pm 
- Always has bandaids with him JUST IN CASE
169 notes · View notes
permian-tropos · 6 years
Text
TIME TO GUSH ABOUT TLJ cause I was looking through screenshots and here’s a bunch of things I might not have mentioned before and a few that I have
1) Paige Tico!!!! PAIGE TICO! her entire time in the spotlight is such a perfectly crafted, perfectly tense scene
Tumblr media
2) UM THE OPENING SPACE BATTLE IS SICK the bombers have such striking silhouettes and this is used for some amazing shots
Tumblr media
3) PAIGE’S DEATH BEING PRESENTED AS TRAGEDY (and not being softened heavily with the promise of being part of something meaningful the way R1′s deaths are) 
4) Captain Candy Crush’s death is given gravity too and I stan this, he’s not made sympathetic and still there’s nothing triumphant about people being blown up. war is not good
5) Finn’s pod is very flattering and angelic even though his water suit is silly. he basically has a halo and no filmmaker would accidentally give a character a halo so jot that down
Tumblr media
6) Snoke’s throne room being utilitarian AND extravagant at the same time is impressive. also I still love the way that Snoke’s real form was made to be this exaggeratedly WASPy old man with the skin texture and wrinkles and pale tufty eyebrow hair, and you know what else? the fact that the camera favors showing the undamaged side of his face. I fucking stan the fact that Johnson took another disfigured villain and played up his old caucasian grandpa looks and made his disfigurement blend into his age. Snoke is a caricature of horrid old white men, possibly the first successful caricature of whiteness in speculative fiction. he looks like Henry Kissinger
Tumblr media
7) Kylo Ren’s bandaid has a pattern on it. we ask ourselves. why. did he get to pick out the pattern. are there multiple patterns. are they all edgy and black. I’m now completely invested in whoever decided that they would have patterned bandaids but not make them TOO fun
8) the movie is so pretty im just. the fuckign. aesthetic. all of it. the palette seems to have been taken from a thunderstorm and it’s perfect. the use of gray is a reason I happen to think people didn’t like the film. they were like what the fuck is all this gray in star wars. star wars shouldn’t be gray. but it’s so unique, it’s not the gray of lazy color grading, it’s the gray of someone who knew that the feeling of haze and uncertainty needed some gray and rolled it in like a fog. I’m going to have to post more screenshots
9) I like the fact that the puppet porgs, as opposed to the CGI porgs, are actually kinda ugly cute
10) everything mark hamill does is perfect. every line, every facial expression, every pose. every moment from luke in tlj is unbelievably iconic. alec guinness would be so jealous 
11) Luke perking up and genuinely smiling when he sees R2D2 is the purest moment I have to just 
Tumblr media
my eyes are moist
12) the architecture and set design is so amazing too? I love this shot introducing Rose, the harsh contrast that draws your eye away from her, the way she’s fading into her corner of brownish-gray, it’s so good for evoking... idk, just how the world seems too bright and too stark and made of shapes, after someone you love dies
Tumblr media
13) I really love how much time we spend on Ahch-To, and how none of it has any campy space action. you’d expect to see some training there, but a lot of people were clearly hoping that Luke and Rey would leave the planet. but we linger so much on the setting, a setting which wholly embodies Luke’s state of mind
14) old luke is a handsome gent. i don’t see enough people with the hots for old luke. this is a big mistake
Tumblr media
15) this shot foreshadows Kylo Ren becoming the Supreme Leader IMO. we see him surveying the war machine, watching the instruments of death be constructed, set apart from everyone -- a glimpse into Kylo’s desire for absolute power without anything being direct. maybe he’s contemplating his isolated existence, how much he doesn’t belong in the Order. or maybe he sees an allure to all this. this is what he wants to possess. it’s probably a mixture of both
Tumblr media
16) Rey and Luke!!!!!!! everything about how the film frames them develops their relationship!! even as Luke is testy with her, we get shots like these where they’re sharing a warm sunset light and having deep heart to hearts. 
and you know what you know what what what
the fact that Rey starts asking WHO her parents are after meeting Luke is uhh clearly suggesting that she’s wondering if maybe Luke is her dad. I love in this one shot how he’s slumped and she’s sitting up straighter, making him the vulnerable one. I love how the sunset light highlights Rey’s buns. I love that she keeps her buns for a while. I love that people have headcanoned she kept the buns so that her parents would recognize her, and she has the buns in the whole time she’s trying to get Luke to act like the hero she believes in. like she’s trying to get him to recognize her
Rey adopts Luke as her dad and it’s beautiful get out of my face
Tumblr media
17) ye there’s a lot of dead children but also I hadn’t really thought about the fact that R2 watched this as well? and R2 was powered off for so long, until the end of TFA? R2 was traumatized and grieving too, and he’s seen this before, he remembers all the way back to when it was Anakin
Tumblr media
18) hors!!!!!!!
Tumblr media
19) what the SHIT is this why is this movie a fucking painting why does it keep outdoing itself in paintingness argh the way this film uses the day-night cycle is unbelievable, having Rey and Finn’s stories be connected by having the same time
THE HCKING MOON THOUGH 
Tumblr media
20) Ok we could talk about how the cold blue moonlight of uncertainty has become the warm orange light of companionship but we can’t forget what firelight also represents re: Kylo cough burning temple nice little double meaning, is Rey making a new friend or is she being tempted, is he going to warm her or burn her
but also I haven’t thought about how fucking awkward Kylo looks!! is he sitting on that barrel?? like since he’s not there is he just sort of compositing himself into the scene? using a convenient barrel
Tumblr media
21) see what I mean about blue being cold. blue = asceticism, red = indulgence, the two extremes 
Tumblr media
22) Luke sinks into darkness
Tumblr media
23) BUT HE DOES ONE THING! the thing that breaks him out of his depression. he takes the fire -- which represents the burned temple, represents Ben Solo, represents the humanity of the Dark Side -- into his own hands. we see the fire symbolizing destruction, then intimacy, then change, in such short succession
fire represents light-dark, something that is both at once. we’ll get back to this
Tumblr media
24) you could say that balance is about making your own light in the darkness
also this is why Poe’s line about being the spark that will burn the First Order down isn’t ~too violent~ cause fire has become a symbol of change, of destruction reclaimed as something restorative, thank you very much 
Tumblr media
25) can we talk about the fact that between this being like a coffin and the way Rey is holding the saber, this actually has the heaviest resemblance to the way medieval knights were depicted atop their sarcophagi. I don’t even know what it means but maybe it hints that Rey sees herself as a martyr and a crusader in this quest to redeem Kylo and prove her valor
Tumblr media Tumblr media
26) the fact that Poe isn’t the only one who gets in on the coup. because the Resistance isn’t a real military it’s a few thousand antifas gathered from all around the galaxy and their numbers are dwindling fast. people kind of put it all on Poe but Connix and Finn and Rose and this woman and this man and this alien were part of it too, and they could have told Poe to cut it out. I like how the blonde woman seems like she’s not sure what’s going on, she’s evaluating the situation 
Tumblr media
27) you know what I stan? I continue to stan aspects of how Snoke is portrayed. I stan the fact that he gets all close up in Rey’s face and grabs her cheek and it kind of mirrors the way Kylo gets in her personal space in TFA but even less so than in TFA, Rey is not framed in the way girls often are when they’re restrained and in distress. when she’s being tortured, we’re not given any tantalizing views of her body. Snoke floating her around the room has her stiff and awkward, and the close-up of her screaming in pain puts the camera behind her head so we see this from her POV, we’re not voyeuristically staring at her, we’re experiencing this indignity with her
28) Kylo Ren killing Snoke has the exact same light on his face as when he killed Han Solo. this is very very interesting
here I am in my corner of Kylo having twisted affection for Snoke as well
Tumblr media
29) I wish I could ship this more cause I don’t need all this talk of fairy tale weddings and force pregnancies when here they are slicing up lobster boys with laser swords
Tumblr media
30) oh but this is where he makes Rey look sad and thats where!!! you know hes gonna have to pay!!! basically everything about the scene where Kylo tears Rey’s heart out and stomps on it and then asks her to be grateful is extremely well done and it did its intended job of making me Big Mad At Kylo 
also look the fire is back its Symbolic
Tumblr media
31) you know what I can’t show in this post? the FUCKING SOUND THAT COMES AFTER THE HYPERSPEED RAM. that sound is the most glorious sound I’ve heard come out of a movie. it’s like a massive metal whale’s death scream. Star Wars has always run on sound design but literally that sound (along with the scene it’s attached to) outdoes everything that has come before it holy wow
Tumblr media
32) Finn WHACKING Phasma. he didn’t use a lightsaber in this film, but he uses the baton he picked up the same way he used the lightsaber, and it even glows blue for good measure. and we can’t forget that this movie shows a boy holding a broom like a lightsaber, and Rey practicing saberplay with her staff, so -- objects that are not lightsabers symbolizing lightsabers is a thing 
Tumblr media
33) I didn’t think about the fact that the Supreme Leader’s throne room is designed to display a view of the outside, or be cloaked in red. possibly it could display anything it pleases. this is great fun for imagining First Order characters making it display things they want to see, like beautiful vistas, or holofilms. possibly it can recreate whole scenes, like a Star Trek holodeck
Tumblr media
34) I don’t have to talk about how Leia is framed by the dawn on Crait do I? we already got the picture when it comes to the day-night cycle and how beautiful it is
35) BABY 8 I can’t believe this droid gets belly scritches and nuzzles from Poe
Tumblr media
36) fucking love when Kylo finally snaps and starts throwing petty tantrums again at the end of the film like he holds back his brattiness for 12 hours and then here comes the screaming and foot stamping and flailing
I have thrown too many temper tantrums in my life to not want to see one on the big screen in its full glory. no one has pushed him to the point where he’s just ugly crying on the floor, spewing snot and tearing at his hair
I got vicarious pleasure out of Poe’s outburst on the bridge too. people being angry and not being in the right. it’s something I need for catharsis
Tumblr media
37) miniaturized Death Star technology aka BIGGEST LIGHTSABER. Kylo stop compensating
but AU where a ginormous person uses the cannon as an actual saber
Tumblr media
38) I’VE TALKED ABOUT HOW FINN’S MOMENT IS IN MY TOP TWO FEELS MOMENTS (top one is the hyperslice) but basically if you don’t think he was affected by seeing the slave kids on Canto Bight, what do you think he’s so angry about here, what do you think has him in a blinding rage?
why do movies have to spell everything out for people in exhaustive detail? the only new thing Finn gets from his experience with Rose, is seeing how the First Order isn’t this isolated enclave of evil. the most powerful people in the galaxy have been supporting it all along. he stops trying to run away because he realizes there is nowhere he can run that won’t have injustice. and he’s seen villagers being massacred, he’s seen the Order attack people he cares about, he’s been personally threatened and had one-on-one duels, but on his trip with Rose he sees children being beaten into submission with electric whips
can’t believe people think Finn wasn’t affected by that when it’s the one thing motivating his character growth
every time he sees civilians getting hurt -- children and families -- he sees himself and the family he’ll never know in them, and is so overwhelmed that he does something brash and radical and self-endangering every time, and his arc is about learning to live with that anger. he runs away from feeling and his angst is so beautiful
and I’m still in the camp of Finn having had a Zuko-like arc when he was a teenager because that boiling frustration at not being able to express his natural empathy is what drove Zuko to angst so hard
FINN IS THE SOLIDARITY KING! HE CARES SO FUCKING MUCH 
Tumblr media
39) fire. Luke facing his demons involves him walking through a gate of flame, out of the darkness, into the light
Tumblr media
I will say that this is also very Buddhist imagery -- the flaming sword symbolizes wisdom, which cuts through the veil of illusion, specifically the illusion of duality
Tumblr media
“Mañjuśrī is depicted as a male bodhisattva wielding a flaming sword in his right hand, representing the realization of transcendent wisdom which cuts down ignorance and duality”
and of course fire being the bridge between light and dark has come up before in the film. the veil is visibly burning here, Luke having fully reclaimed the image of fire, which was earlier in the film held by Kylo Ren 
Tumblr media
I mean. just. YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
40) something about this shot is extra special. everything that’s going on on the salt flats is like on this higher dimension, this spiritual plane 
Tumblr media
41) for a moment it looks like Luke and the First Order are standing against Kylo. gives you a glimpse into Kylo’s state of mind. is the Order his weapon, or his enemy? it’s both, and he’s absolutely terrified of it
also I’ve talked about how Palpatine’s Contingency plan is about getting revenge on his Empire because he hates its power as much as he revels in it, and he dedicates a good deal of time plotting ways to kill it, because he needs to prove that he is more powerful than it
being the Emperor or Supreme Leader carries with it the distinct horror of knowing that you can never be more powerful than the thing that has empowered you
Tumblr media
42) 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
43) Luke achieving 100% maximum Buddhist allegory
Tumblr media Tumblr media
44) the slope of the floor is the slope of the opening crawl of a Star Wars film 
all right that’s all folks
Tumblr media
28 notes · View notes
randompony03 · 6 years
Text
Random SS Headcannons
As well as MCR and P!ATD, Virgil also listens to Twenty One Pilots and Melanie Martinez.
When Virgil thinks no one else is around, he’ll play his music out loud. (me tbh)
Roman has actually been around for some of this, and now rather enjoys ‘Tear In My Heart’.
Patton is really good at the piano, and will often learn to play songs the others like.
Patton accidentally stumbled across Vocaloid one day and really likes it. He often will come play a song for the other’s to hear.
Patton also really enjoys PONPONPON.
Roman and Vigil both enjoy the webcomic Kid and Teenagers (KnT). Roman for the art style and creative jokes, Virgil because it’s kinda edgy sometimes and the characters are gothic.
Whenever Patton expresses curiosity in something he found on the internet, Virgil goes and checks it first to make sure it’s ‘Patton Friendly’.
As well researching contemporary slang words, Logan also looks into popular memes, even though he hates them and doesn’t think they make sense, (’cause let’s be honest, they just don’t)
Every once and awhile, everyone gets together for a Rockband Night.
Patton also insists on having a weekly ‘Family Game Night’.
Patton has a large collection of both Hello Kitty stickers and colorful bandaids. Both of which he loves to put on Logan and Virgil.
[B] Proposal Headcannons!
Roman was planning to propose to Virgil, but had been putting it off so as not to rush it for Virgil’s sake. He was pleasantly surprised when Virgil was the one to propose to him.
Logan and Patton had both bought engagement rings, and tried to propose at the same time.
[B] K, back to normal ones now
When somewhat upset, Virgil will lay on the floor of his room and listen to Sleepyhead by Passion Pit on repeat.
Patton has listened to the 10 hour version of the Nyan Cat song at least 12 times.
Logan constantly has decorative jars of candy in his room due to Patton constantly getting them for him.
Logan has several air plants. (plants that don’t need to be put in soil, or watered often)
Patton uploads to Music.ly (now Tik Tok for those of you who didn’t know), and often gets the others to participate in them.
Logan actually rather enjoys Caravan Palace. Patton loves to listen to it with him.
Patton has a Rainbow Loom and is always making bracelettes for himself and the others. He has one to match each of the other’s color themes.
Roman rather likes Oran High School Host Club.
And I think that’s all I’m gonna due. If you want more, let me know.
Also, I have this YouTube playlist I made on shuffle, and it played Tear In mY Heart twice, lol.
23 notes · View notes
Text
What we REALLY learned from BotE lore
I know I’m about a month too late for this but…. (Dadmin feel free to put a keep reading here if you think it’s too long)
Jailbreak- -Tundra??? Skydancer??? Eating fish??????? There’s like 6 different plant food granola ration items that would keep just fine??? -Either the breed diets are more of a preference or the writers just forgot their own lore, I’m inclined towards the second but the first is a plausible in-universe plot bandaid
-Dragons have surnames and with little exception they’re all warrior cats adjectivenoun shit. Because of course they are.
-Feathers can be unusually thick, apparently -Isolated beastclans unaware of/apathetic to the uprising are a thing -Most of the icefield is too dangerous to fly in -The fortress of ends is far from the only prison location -New location: Dripcave dregs -Icefield’s government so far seems to consist entirely of the (very harsh) prison system, so i guess the southern icefield is ice age america -[Racial tensions intensify] -Dragon money is accepted by at least some beastclans -Racial tensions not helped by language barrier -Rations stashed at key points along the mountains -Tundras become amnesic when stressed -Who/What the wardens are does not seem to be common knowledge -Oh hey look a new canon breed for one of the flights that only has one breed which isn’t very popular, which has unique lore, and a design that perfectly matches with many people’s wishes for “Something like a tundra but fiercer”, that i guarantee will be eternally left right next to couriers as “Perfectly good breeds that will never be implemented and the admins will never even tell us why” -They don’t seem to know much about other breeds -Like genders, for example -They also might be psychic -May or may not be ageless on top of that -Tundras are descended from them, which means at some point in the distant past some left for the surface and stayed there, which means these things are perfectly capable of joining surface society again -It seems a lot of the deities have disappointing giant first children that they want to hide/kill to bury their shame Ten Eyes- -New location: The Oculus of the Eleven -Like if the UN was also a wizard council -So far implied there haven’t been any major interflight wars for at least a few generations -Leylines are Serious Business™ -SMARK -SMARK -Mirror pack instincts are very strong -Dragons supposedly don’t have computers, but the leyline monitor things sound an awful lot like computers -Crystalspine mountains grow in response to ambient magic -Oculus seems to have been anticipating eventual sabotage of some variety for a long time -Age discrimination -Not only are dragon/beastclan racial tensions insanely high, but racial tensions between flights and breeds seem to be immense as well -Mirrors revert to base aggressive animal instincts when stressed -Even if they act like they’re friends they all actually hate eachother and will totally throw eachother under the buss at the first sign of trouble -Dragons know about the two arcane apocalypses(the first of which wasn’t technically the arcanist’s fault because he wasn’t fucking born yet but that’s a rant for a different time) -Mirrors can be blinded by enough heat -Uuuh -Uuummm -What, you wanted useful bits on what it’s actually like in arcane in general? Fuck you, have this rushed and thinly-veiled segway into lightning’s bit that takes place entirely inside an isolated dragon UN base with no elaboration on the outside world Temper, Temper- -Fire has kind of an Industrial revolution/great depression theme going on -Funding cutbacks -Railways confirmed -Imported materials confirmed -Racism again -Economic class divide -Angry coatls puff their feathers -Fire treats their working class like shit, and apparently has been for a very long time -Vocal Accents confirmed -I have no idea why Haemil isn’t overwhelmed by heat signatures all the time if just a few angry people was enough to blind Beatrix -Worker’s guilds are a thing. We have no idea how they work, but they’re a thing, and they have some amount of power. -Only the blacksmiths can withstand the great furnace -Volcano heartshaft -Dragons have explored at least as far down as the upper mantle -“Forgemasters” who seem to be greedy slavedriver corporate aristocrat types -Forgemaster council of some sort exists, and apparently is the closest there is to a central government -There’s a main cavern where the great furnace’s blacksmiths work and it has a big-ass gate on it -Fire tundras crop their fur and still get burned anyway -Ashfall wastes are the main exporters of tools and weapons -So, who wants to break the news to Por and Ventik that they literally cannot physically speak to eachother? -I suppose you could make the excuse that one of the others is translating, but i think they just forgot their own lore again. -Ashfall provides the tempest spire with bolts, rivets, and sheet metal -Arftificial scarcity to drive up demand is a thing in sornieth’s economy -Also, international economy is a thing -Apprenticeship is a thing -Giant bellows in the great furnace, operated by big tattooed imps who may or may not be exaltees -Non-arcane archmages -Other flights are required to construct sanctums whenever concentrations of magic are found -The Oculus doesn’t have anywhere near as much power across sornieth as it thinks it does-their efforts are easily foiled pretty much whenever the local government feels like it -They don’t seem to be very well-respected or even liked anywhere either -Magically-charged magma (and presumably other things) exist, and have useful scientific properties -Government’s first reaction to discovery of new resources/tech is to use it as an excuse to lay off most of their already-struggling workforce -Government cover-ups are also totally a thing -Apparently, tundras rarely frown -Parties of blacksmiths are sent to chart any caves discovered -Steel crates -New location: Flintlock Fumaroles -Professions are often handed down through families for generations -Individual clans are capable enough of reliable communication for a worker’s strike of this magnitude to be assembled in only days. -Flamecaller isn’t really present, and has fallen almost entirely into legend -You don’t have to be a skydancer to sense high levels of magic -There’s another volcano now, apparently even bigger and badder than the great furnace -Everyone’s been fired(lol), There’s a worker’s revolution going on, and there’s a whole new fucking island, all of which i’m sure will never be spoken of again. -If you claim it they will come A New Direction- -Ashfall wastes and Scarred wasteland are visible from the plateau -Dis place high yall -Dragons have trouble flying in stagnant air -Dragons sometimes rob couriers -Couriers run in an awkward waddle -The twisting crescendo is sentient, capable of appearing as a dragon, and, apparently, female -The windsinger can send magic statues in the mail or something idk i’m not sure anyone entirely knows what’s going on there -Windmills confirmed -That’s it -This one’s kinda simple -What, you wanted more useful detail on what life in the plateau is like? Fuck you, have this folk tale-sounding glorified space whale aesop Kindred Crossing- -At some point in the past, light and shadow made a failed attempt at an alliance that involved building portals that seem to only be able to activate during a lunar eclipse with the correct keystone like some lonely mountain shit(At least if admin comments on the forums are to be trusted) -Apparently the technology to make said portals was lost and the incident was forgotten about -Somehow this created the hewn city by bleeding the two together. Why shadow doesn’t have an unusually light-y area near the portal, i don’t know. -New location: thorndark altar, for all your cliche cultist needs -Lots of shadow pool and moon-related religious stuff -Creepy cult clans confirmed -Shadow goo smells like shit -Shadow goo puts out feeding tendrils -Awful mothers confirmed -Action figures confirmed -Whiny edgy teenagers confirmed -Some sect of shadow religion that multiple clans apparently follow involves elders in robes passing around candles with purple flames, creepy cultist chanting, and throwing prized possessions into the goo -Presumably this “sacrificing prized possessions” thing is not an isolated practice -“Voidling” seems to be an insult or derogatory title of some sort, in other news awful mother is awful. Something tells me her son being such a screwed-up asshole isn’t entirely his own fault. -“It’s not like he’ll remember it anyway”- That’s racist -The descriptive phrase “Dark hovels” is telling. Make of it what you will. -Lots of crazy ancient shit like this is absolutely hidden under pools and growth throughout the tangled wood -There are specialists trying to map the hewn city -I can’t help but feel like the specific wording of the description “A primitive hook-shaped runestone” says a little bit and the light flight’s attitude -Shadow flight has assassins specifically for the purpose of ruining light scholar’s work Ancient Fascinations- -Preservation guild is a thing, and presumably other guilds of similar function are too -Archeology confirmed -Most places still rely on torches and candles for light -Secretaries are a thing, which also means all the things that necessitate secretaries exist -Some weird monsters or some shit like that have popped into existence under dragonhome, and apparently are turning people into fossils or something -The things in question looks sort of like beastclans. Maybe undead second age creatures? -Government coverups: Archeology guild edition -Organizations take funding from wealthy sponsors -Imperials can be just as self-important as pearlcatchers -A very ominous, mysterious, wealthy, anonymous organization that if fiction has taught me anything can’t be up to any good -Even in fantasy dragon land you can acquire just about any historical artifact for your private collection by throwing enough money at it -What, you wanted more on what dragonhome is like for the average dragon? Fuck you, here’s a boring ametuer SCP story taking place entirely in an isolated archeology site. Workplace Hazards- -Lightning farm has monitoring equipment -Uhhh -Ummmmmm -Flying in storm bad -Shock switch is a real thing…? Maybe…? -Computers don’t exist yet, everyone still uses papers -… Even though that lightning farm monitoring equipment from just a few lines ago sounded an awful lot like a computer -Errrrrrr -Electrical engineer guild…..? -The shifting expanse does in fact have money -Cactus tea? Cactus fucking tea? -Aaaaaahhhh…? -Whelp lightning has effectively just withdrawn from the dragon un, secretly declared war on them, and pissed on their embassy just for good measure. you know, just in case the whole “Antithesis of all magic and nature, making them effectively the closest there is to a shade faction” thing wasn’t enough. -Unless the lore in the next one does a complete 180 and it turns out this is fine somehow or it’s because of a secret conspiracy unrelated to the flight or something, lightning is now likely THE designated antagonist faction and enemies with the entire world -Oh nooo sciency scientists with no morals are gonna destroy the world again with their scientific hubris!1!1! No bad things would ever happen if those darned scientists would just stop messing with nature and poking around where they don’t belong!1!! -Yeah, salary cycle.. That’s certainly……. A word……. That probably means something…… Which is never explained…. -Scientific scientists destroy non-sciency things because of science reasons, Next up our special guest Vulcan with “Emotion is illogical and must be destroyed” -Have fun being the designated wholly evil faction, nerds. Technology eats your soul. -What, you wanted lore that provided any insight whatsoever into what the expanse is like on any level, or at least something that didn’t spend every line it could going out of it’s way to emphasize how one-dimensionally amoral everyone and everything here is? -That’s stupid -You’re stupid -Fuck you and that train you rode in on -Here, have a bland thinly-veiled tacked on continuation of arcane’s story that pointedly goes out of it’s way to avoid introducing any significant new elements whatsoever because that could potentially humanize lightning on some level and interfere with our pushing the totally irredeemable mad scientists that need to be wiped out for the good of the world narrative, set almost exclusively in an equally bland extension of the dragon UN building that gets knocked over to make an evil hubris reactor because scientific scientists sciencing sciencly oppose all non-science. -Watch as all lore from now on is about how everything is lightning’s fault and they’re the enemies of all life or something -durr hurr science is scary thomas edison is a witch The Seed and the Sickness- -Plague and nature getting lumped together for no goddamned reason, as usual -If the excuse is because they’re twins then light and shadow should get lumped together too, light’s story is certainly short enough and they’re already semi-connected -Plague and nature have had an armistice for thousands of years -Why yes, let’s trade nukes every decade. How could this possibly go wrong. -Plague dragons have lots of scars and war paint and wear bones confirmed -Earth flight mediates because of course it does -Dragons know about the first battles of the plaguebringer and gladekeeper -Scarred wasteland is humid -Nature dragons tell horror stories about it -Quarantine zones for testing diseases -Plague actually specifically develops and tests diseases -Nature dragons can’t live in the scarred wasteland without special measures -Bonerguards -The behemoth is sick, possibly, maybe, it’s not entirely clear, probably just hallucinations -Secret ninjas poisoning ambassadors -“Be strong, survive” -Bone spears. *immature giggle* -Nature magic can do some pretty gory, fucked up stuff. Impaled corpses hanging from trees, anyone? -It’s nice to know the admins are allowed to write about shit like that but even having an argument written in a playermade bio puts it in the danger zone -Weaponized carnivorous plants -Plague breath is toxic gas and yellow goo -Other plague magic includes giant rotting membrane cocoons -Nature and plague are probably gonna go to war again, and might drag earth into it too -Now there’s a sick lady with a plant-nuke fused to her out there somewhere -In plague, if you’re hurt, too bad. Medical treatment is for the weak. Either you survive your open wounds or you don’t. Plague dragons covered in bloody bandages are not lore-freindly, because bandages mean they weren’t strong enough to tough it out themselves. -Also implied that plague looks down upon the dead in some way
-Plague also DEFINITELY hates doctors and medicine -Ohh nooo EEEVIL plague conspiracy involving the plague ambassador -You thought there would be equal sections for both ambassadors? The plague ambassador’s section is all of 3 sentences long and only exists to tell us how evil she is. -What, you wanted lore that expanded on what it’s like in nature in any significant way? Fuck you, have a bland sabotage plot that takes place entirely in the scarred wasteland with no mention of anything at all in the viridian labyrinth. -What, you wanted lore that expands on what it’s like in plague in any significant way? Fuck you, have a bland sabotage plot that takes place entirely in an isolated nature embassy with no mention of how anything outside it works. Hear Today, Gone Tomorrow- -Pearlcatchers have slings and bags to carry their pearls -New location: shoredeep presage -Divination caves that direct the tidelord’s prophecy bubbles up from the deep for rite-of-passage rituals -Prophets have multiple levels of rank based on age -Water dragons carve handholds to use in areas with strong tides -Divination requires specific rituals seemingly similar to alchemy, along with a blindfold and special chant -Braziers made of dried coral and shells -Dragons swim with their wings -Not all water dragons have divination powers, and the ones that don’t seem to be considered lesser -The first prophecy is meant to be carried to your grave -Dragons breathe water. With their lungs. -Fishing shacks exist -The weather in wind has a direct effect on the weather in other flights, in this case leveling the whole damn water flight because the crescendo decided it wanted to spin the other way -The crescendo also does not have a monopoly on the “gigantic magically-charged supercell” game, it’s just the most consistent one -Giant whirlpool. Maybe the spiral keep collapsed? -Prophecies tell you whatever the fuck they feel like telling you, not what you want them to -All the currents in the ocean have also changed thanks to the reversed wind -Fish daddy’s not talking anymore Raising a Family- -Did you really just use a Necromancer pun? Is the next line going to be about doing it on a budget? -Very short -So short it may as well be fused with shadow’s like they did with plague and nature -Emperors generally have extremely simple, childlike minds, with varying levels of decay, and are often deliriously happy -Always hungry -Think of eachother as siblings, it’s unclear if they really are or not. Technically siblings of multiple elements are possible if their parents traveled a lot. -Have fragmented and hazy memories of their past lives -Something about “Mother and other siblings”, possibly lightweaver -Hewn city has a border patrol -Emperors with less then 4 heads DO have enough juice to go apocalypse mode, despite what the encyclopedia says -The only one i genuinely enjoyed and felt was well-written -Except now there’s a fucking hydra-zombie rampaging through light flight. i’m sure that won’t be a problematic place to leave a cliffhanger dangling for months at all. Voices- -Leafmom’s worried, Germmom’s pissed -Droolmom thinks this is the funniest shit she’s seen in 10,000 years -Something’s wrong with sornieth’s molten core, i think -Icepop bragging about his limited edition Cthulhu collection -GLITTERMOM NO YOU RACIST FAVORITE-CHILD-PICKING BITCH I SWEAR IF YOU DO ANYTHING TO THOSE MURDERNOODLES -Noddledad don’t give a fuck -Daddy Cave Johnson definitely sanctioned this evil scientific hubris reactor. Goddammit Cave. -*Space dad creepily floating outside everyone Else’s window with binoculars* -Earthdad got a playmate, but they don’t seem friendly -*Goes around putting up missing posters for tidepapa*
63 notes · View notes
juroguro · 6 years
Text
♡ mobile info ♡
ao3 | ko-fi | commission me!
abt-
hello and welcome to my blog!
basic info:
naomi, fishy
july 22
18
she
dyke
hopeless romantic
csa survior
spoonie (cvs in remission and active ra)
studying writing + linguistics
junjou collector + obsessive
pretty boy enthusiast
ur local gore mutual
dumbass
my claim to fame is posting jrsih spoilers in the triannual emerald magazine. otherwise, i blog about anything i find pleasing, such as:
nakamura shungiku’s works
weeb shit
general romance
aesthetic things (usually revolving around my ocs)
cute animals
stimmy stuff
lots of gore;;;;;;;;;;;;
ppl i adore
????
besides blogging, i spend most of my time writing, both fanfiction and otherwise. to support work, check out my ao3 and my ko-fi in my links! writing is something i take seriously, so i would greatly appreciate it if you leave kudos on my work, write reviews, or donate to keep the words flowing ♡
wanna see more writing stuff? check out @naomisbr! i’m kinda inactive atm but i’m trying to be better lol. also my oc page has some info on my wips. i rarely update it tho so.
[some disclaimers. fujos are gross. just bc i like junjou and other bls doesn't mean im a fujo. if ur straight and gettin off to queer porn w/o believing that queer ppl are ppl please check urself. yeesh. ik like half my followers are fujin so y'all can interact, idrc. please chill tho.]
[also, i don't wanna kill people + i don't have suicidal thoughts. i'm just a masochist bro. please chill. legalize gore blogs on tumblr. gay rights. trans rights. yeehaw.]
icon is commissioned from @/ciervobizarro, an absolute legend. background source got deleted :(
☆ love nikki- 113048884 ☆
if you want to know me better, feel free to hmu in my inbox or dms! i promise im not too scary lol
i hope you enjoy my incredibly niche blog! ily!!
ocs (pc version has links to tags)-
all of the -shit tags are moodboards for my 600 ocs. please look at them. + hmu if u wanna chat abt or rp with my characters w me!!! 👀👀
from underneath the peach tree - series, 59 pgs, fully planned in sixty different directions
rosalie thatcher- a sad, rich, dead girl who went too far while looking for her flower
rage- a sick angel, body horror queen, perpetually irate
sage queensborough- god’s hitman, a reincarnation, all that rosalie wanted to be
liliana / leilani darzi- rosalie's flower, the cool lesbo, daddy issues
oliver croteau- rosalie's bestie, not gay!!!!!!! he’s not gay guys!!!!!!!!!!1! fuck off!!!1!!!!1 - rp with @/comaangell, 80+ pgs
tanka - 10 pgs, partially planned
trevor benson- poor poet, widowed and tired, a ghost
lilian- murder by her father, forgotten, a ghost
sHE (sih spin-off edition) - first draft complete, 130 pgs
shirotani sayuri (shiro ai) (her)- fearful, femme, the fucking hero - trans!kisa shouta in sih edition
chelsea wright (yokubou)- neon + skintight, weeb but in the deep way, cokehead brit
watanabe ani (koneko ai)- sayuri’s best bud, traumatized, stalker, too kind
watanabe maki (kurai ai)- kinky, got the hots for sayuri, overprotective
koizumi sakura (sakura ai)- b i t c h, innocent in the ways we don’t consider, the martyr
him- pretty face, taco bell babe, director seat dreams, never the fucking hero - yukina kou in sih edition
JOSEPH - 2 pgs, fully planned
joseph- lindor truffle, black coffee bastard, the apple of my eye
berry- sunnyd, frozen fruit fiend, knobby knees
black neon - partially planned
casey montero- lipstick dipshit, the bitter, edgy, homicidal cunt - rp with@/brnasleep, 3 pgs
alice taibi- doll parts, neon eyeshadow hoe, drag queen with a druggie vibe
TOWERS - partially planned
julia pablin- darlin’, chiaki-esque, just tryin to do her best
olivia chrishid- martini, hot as shit butch, buff! babe!
others/unnamed
honey- all that “save the bees” garb but x 999%
iris- iris babydoll, pretty face, arcade goer, maniac
hope- forked tongue, heroin, honey's wifey!!
zig- forest boy, fairy of the greens, fire pit
missymissymissme- sunsets, pink lemonade, the sweetest sociopath
cloudyskies- harajaku dresses, bandaids, blue on blue on blue
tags-
a little guide to my horrendous tag system!
general-
-shit: oc tags; see oc list
-stuff: like the -shit tags but it’s just junjou characters.
-! very good stuff!!!! things i enjoy!!! pleasing!!!
fav: the best of the best
hrd fav: the best of the best of the best
need: stuff my materialistic hoarder ass desires
wishes: the hopes and dreams!!!
march/drm/nmr/badguy/thoughts: all sorts of vent stuff
aes- aesthetic stuff
xes- nudity + erotic stuff
txt- poetry, prose, and pretty phrases
gore-
guro- drawn gore
irl- irl gore
*- erotic gore
hard- intense gore
horrifying!- body horror + gen horror
guro vibes- almost gore but not really
stans-
eeean- idubbbz
misucc-looking ass- maxie. he look like misucc.
idiot george- joji
bran- rich brian
kpop sorry- well, u know
please ask me if u want me to tag something! i’ll do my best!
2 notes · View notes