#if you don’t ship them you can just... scroll away

[labyrynth]

genshin fans really will be like “i can excuse child combatants but i draw the line at young-looking adults”

#genshin #genshin impact #salt is salt #like…some of y’all are so hellbent on fake ass ‘activism’ that you’d RATHER they be child combatants than simply Not Children At All #like the issue here is twofold: #1) harassing people over ‘Bad’ ships. you should not be harassing people period. bullying people is Bad. #2) insisting that everyone else abide by your personal version of ‘canon’ #and thus declaring things problematique even though it’s ambiguous in canon #e.g. nahida is canonically 1) over 500 years old 2) small #some people claim she is a child and thus to ship her with scaramouche is Problematique. #they claim she is a child because she is small. they claim that their reason is actually because she was isolated for most of that time. #but that is not actually the reason. bc ‘created by a predecessor god with intent but was never able to grow into the role meant for them-> #-> because an outside influence stepped in specifically in an attempt to groom them to suit their own purposes -> #ultimately preventing them from developing and isolating them from anyone who could become their peer’ #yeah that applies to both nahida and scaramouche. #the ONLY reason people claim that nahida is a child is because she is small. #like. i don’t ship it but i can see the appeal! #but for the love of fuck just. stop coming up with arbitrary standards of what you consider Bad and then moving the goalposts constantly #and for the love of GOD just leave people alone!!! it’s that easy!!!! #you go ‘well that’s just none of my business’ and block them and scroll away!!

[sugrhigh]

RUMORS - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary: you and chris have known each other for a long time, and you’ve always had an inescapable crush on him. when you all go to tara’s party and fans see them together for the first time, speculation begins to circulate, and you begin to pull away in fear that he likes her as more than a friend

warnings: angsty in the beginning, fluffy in the end :) some swearing a kiss and that’s it really

bff!chris x fem!reader

a/n: i loved this concept and i hope i brought it to life well for the anon that requested <3 my inbox is always open for u guys #kisses

@fawnchives @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @sturniolossss @cupidsword @teapartyprincess4two @princessbetsy123-blog @cookiehaos @sturnlova @junnniiieee07 @vsangel-starbies @chrissystur

doom scrolling online is like a car crash that you can’t look away from; especially when it involves your friend and your long term crush. you’ve been laying in bed scouring the internet for the past hour, pouring over comments about and tara and chris.

ever since her last party, when fans actually saw them publicly interacting for the first time, the gossip has gotten out of control. people want them together, and you hate to admit that it makes you sick to your stomach.

hell, you’d been the one to introduce them, since tara had become your friend first. but you and chris go all the way back to childhood; you were best friends with him and his brothers in your early years of school, and then you moved to another town after your dad accepted a new position.

you kept in touch through social media and occasional texts after that, until you all found yourselves in LA fresh out of high school, alone in an unfamiliar city across the country.

their youtube channel had taken off, and you’d gained a large following after you’d finally been recognized for your photography due to some big-name collabs. you were all in the same vulnerable position, and because of this your friendship with the three of them started right back up where it left off.

the rest is history. it’s been two years now, and you’ve all grown exponentially, fully adjusted to LA and the recognition, comfortable with where you are in your lives professionally and personally.

you spend nearly every week with the triplets, doing anything and everything together. they’ve made the occasional homesickness bearable, been your rock through the hard times, and supported you like no one else.

but things are a little different with you and chris. he’s your best friend, the person you want to tell everything to first. it’s always been that way, really. you had feelings for him at 13, and now at 20 years old you love him even more.

but that doesn’t mean you have to love him being shipped with every female influencer on the planet.

it’s selfish, really, to want chris to yourself, considering his occupation and the fame that comes with it. tara is a good person and an even better friend, and you shouldn’t be angry over the idea of them dating.

still, it’s been consuming your mind ever since you saw the first post about the two of them a few days ago, and you’ve been checking social media every hour since.

you’re about to read through yet another comment section when your phone buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.

chris

can you pls answer me

i don’t like this silent treatment thing

your stomach flips. he’s been texting you things like this for the past few days, since you started distancing yourself after the party.

the whole night he had acted as if he was into tara; always making conversation, asking to dance, posting her on his story. even when you were right next to him, it still felt like he was miles away.

so of course it’s been upsetting you, and you figured rather than taking it out on either of them you would just remove yourself from the situation.

it seemed like the best option in the moment, but it still sucks. you hate not talking to him, not seeing his face or feeling his arms wrap around you in a familiar hug.

another text pings, snapping you out of your spiral once more.

chris

i don’t know what’s wrong but you’re scaring me

the message makes your eyes burn, and you blink away the tears. you don’t want him worrying about you, especially when it’s your own stupid feelings getting in the way of things being normal.

you sigh, tapping out a response and staring at it, debating back and forth whether you should actually press send. but he beats you to a response, and another string of texts come through.

chris

i can see you typing

i’m coming over

y/n

no don’t do that, everything is fine

chris

i don’t believe you

and i already left my house

it’s only a five minute walk to get from his place to yours, and you know he’s too stubborn to actually turn around, no matter how hard you plead. you’ve already broken out into a nervous sweat just thinking about the confrontation.

but at this point you owe it to him and yourself to be honest. you just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.

y/n

fine, doors unlocked

i’m in my room

a few minutes later you hear the front door slam open and closed, just to see chris peek his head around the corner of your room moments later. you’re still curled up in bed, too scared and tired to move, so he takes the liberty of coming to you.

“hey.” he says softly as he sits down.

“hi.” you mumble, wrapping your blanket against your chest tighter.

it’s not cold, but you’re so anxious that you’re shivering. chris notices and puts a hand on your covered knee, rubbing small circles against the joint. he looks so sweet, clad in his blue fresh love hoodie with his hair all curly from showering.

“what’s up? i haven’t heard from you all week, and nick was about ready to call the cops.” he tries to joke with a small grin.

you can’t bring yourself to match his energy, and your face remains grave as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“i’m alright, just tired.”

his face falls, and a slight frown replaces his smile. you know he’s not believing any of it for a second, and you’ve never been a very convincing liar.

“don’t do that, you’re obviously not alright. and i’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but i feel like you’re shutting me out.” chris replies quietly.

you shift a little bit so you can sit up properly, back resting against the headboard as you gaze at him. his hand remains on your thigh, a source of comfort while you try to pick your words wisely.

“i’m not trying to push you away, chris. i just…wanted to give you space.” you continue to dance around the truth.

he looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowed like you’re speaking another language. “that’s nice and all, but i don’t want it.”

“well maybe i do.” you shrug.

you’re lying through your teeth, but chris’s eyes go wide regardless. you’ve shocked him into silence, which rarely ever happens. he’s just staring at you, the gears in his mind turning as he tries to figure out what could possibly be wrong.

“are you serious? did i do something that i don’t know about?” chris asks, clearly exasperated.

he removes his hand from your leg, dropping it back in his lap. the small act alone makes your heart sink, and you feel the question crawling its way out of your mouth before you can help it.

“do you like tara?”

it hangs in the air, and you’ve stumped him once again. chris shakes his head, clearing his throat while his face reddens slightly.

“i can’t believe you’re even asking me that.” he sounds genuinely astonished.

“what? why?” it’s your turn to be baffled.

“because i feel like all i ever do is flirt with you. i mean seriously, it’s embarrassing for me at this point.” chris reaches to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

your jaw drops, which makes you feel silly. throughout this whole relationship you felt like you were the one putting the moves on him, doing too much. you’d never once stopped to think about all of the little comments he would make.

“i, uh, guess i didn’t pick up on that.” you manage to reply.

you immediately wish you hadn’t, that you just kept your mouth shut. but he smiles widely at you, chuckling lightly.

“no shit.”

this makes you laugh too, and it feels good to experience at least a brief moment of normality between the two of you. things have felt tense for so long that you’d almost forgotten why you love being around chris in the first place.

you wait to calm down a bit before you decide to finally lay it all on the table. “i like you a lot, chris. and i don’t want to mess up the dynamic we have, because you mean the world to me. but i’d be lying to myself if i said i didn’t want to be with you.”

he’s still grinning, though you can tell he’s gone a little shy now hearing you admit your feelings. this moment is all he dreamed about for so long, and now it’s finally happening in a realm outside of his own brain.

“i want that too, and i’m a dumbass for taking this long to say it. so no, i’m not interested in tara like that. it’s always been you.” chris confesses, reaching to interlock your fingers.

you’ve held hands before on many occasions, but it’s different now in the best way. butterflies erupt in your stomach as he leans in, and you can smell the fading hints of minty body wash on his skin.

you tilt your head so your mouths finally meet, soft and slow as you both finally enjoy the kiss you’ve been yearning for for so long. he tastes sugary, like the lollipops he’s always got between his teeth, and you’re already addicted.

chris pulls away a minute later, his lips reddened and glistening from the contact. you giggle slightly from the unfamiliarity of the situation, glancing down at your linked hands.

“your lips are so soft.” he praises, still awestruck that he finally got to kiss the girl he’s loved since he was a preteen.

“take a girl out to dinner first, jeez.” you joke playfully.

chris rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. “i think i will, actually. you got any plans tomorrow?”

you tap your chin with your free hand like you’re contemplating your schedule. “i can probably squeeze you in.”

“you better. everyone else can get in line.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

[merakiui]

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: babytrapping #lunar love hotel 2023

[kpthoughts]

<Sam’s little sister>

-Colby Brock-

—————————————————————————

Before dating:

Sam hated the idea of his best friend dating his little sister

That’s why Colby held his feelings off for so long because he didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable

But soon the feelings were too strong to ignore

You got closer very easily might I add

Everyone had a hunch you liked each other, the mainly knew he liked you.

Especially fans

He seemed very protective of you in videos, more than everyone else

In haunted videos he would always check up on you, make sure you’re not going in first or in any danger

You like the thrill though and he knows this but he can’t help himself

Fans picked up on all this and started to ship you

As much as you denied it you both knew it was true

You always seemed to gravitate towards each other even when you’re in a big group/crowd

For example you would sit beside each other, walk side by side, talk to each other more, find ways to be alone

This is what led you to dating

When at a party you both hid away in the bedroom

One conversation led to a deep conversation and he kissed you

You were shocked but didn’t fight it

Sam finding out:

You both hid this from your friends to avoid drama between everyone

They soon picked up on it though

Sam being the first to ask Colby about it.

He asked if anything was going on between you and Colby and because Colby didn’t want to lie anymore he admitted you were dating for the past month

Sam was rightfully upset

Not because you were dating but because you hid it from him

He came around though and was your biggest shipper

Dating Colby would include:

He always has his hands on you in some way

Not sexually though

He would hold your hand, your thigh, have his arm around your waist etc

Filming together

Sam teased you two SO MUCH

He’ll come in while you’re in his apartment or room and just tell something stupid before leaving

Colby finds it funnier than you do

“It’s a little funny!”

“No I hate him!”

He’s very protective of you and will constantly make sure you’re ok and safe

Especially in videos when you’re exploring or ghost hunting

You’re usually the little spoon but if he’s had a bad day it switches

His fans love you and are also protective of you when it comes to haters

He loves seeing you in his clothes

Hoodies, t-shirts, rings whatever

You steal his rings a lot

He knows you do and gave up asking you if it was you who took them because he already knows

Adventures when you want to get out somewhere

You’ll just drive until you find somewhere interesting to look around like a forest, cave or abandoned building

Checks up on you daily and knows when something is wrong

He’s not overly jealous but can get a little annoyed when a guy shows you a lot of attention

You don’t give the attention back though

Instead you go to Colby and kiss him in front of the guy

He loves it when you do this

When you kiss he always has his hands on your waist or back

He knows what spots to put his hands every time

During makeouts he’ll put you on his lap and hold your hips down

He’ll leave hickeys in less obvious spots because of videos and you two not wanting to share that part of your life

Your friends always see them though and you don’t hear the end of it

Forehead kisses all the time

When cuddling he loves to play with your hair and loves it when you play with his

He tried to braid your hair once but it didn’t end well

You paint his nails a lot and he loves it

When you’re bored you’ll draw on his arms or colour in his tattoos with felt tips

He just lets you do it while he scrolls through his phone

Stargazing is something you love to do as you know so much about Stars

He sits there and listens to you talk about it and he loves it

—————————————————————————

Master/Request Page

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #headcanons #sam and colby #headcanon #fanfic #fanfics #fluff #sam golbach

[muffinlance]

prompt: Ozai has Azula watch Zuko (his progress or rather lack thereof) from way earlier on, possibly even before Aang gets away from the iceberg in the first place

There it is, written at the bottom of his banishment notice, wobbling in and out of his vision and he’s not sure if it's his eyes—

(Father wouldn’t have meant to blind him. Being blind won't help him catch the Avatar, so he’ll just not go blind.)

It’s either his eyes, or. Or the rage. It has to be the rage.

So Zuko reads the line again, and lets the fire brim up and overflow, until sparks chase the shout from his lips.

“Banishment to be overseen by Crown Princess Azula?”

- - -

“Prince Zuko,” Azula says, standing as tall as an eleven year old can. She’s using his title, so that he’ll use hers. And if he doesn’t then he’s ill-mannered and not fit for his own. 

“Crown Princess Azula,” Zuko grits out.

“I’ll just be inspecting your ship, then. Father’s orders.”

Two men are in shackles by the time she’s done. 

“—Fostering mutiny against your prince,” she is yelling, and somehow her voice is just as high-pitched as his without sounding childish at all. “When our father hears about this—”

- - -

“So you had them executed,” Fire Lord Ozai inquires. Lightly. And from behind his flames.

“Of course, father,” says the kneeling child. “It was an attack on our family.”

Her father doesn’t say anything.

Azula is eleven. Eleven, she had presumed, was old enough to count. 

One, two, three. Four, with Uncle. The royal family.

Her father is silent still.

One. Two.

“Forgive my impertinence, Fire Lord,” she says. “I will bring them to you for judgment next time.”

“Do so,” Fire Lord Ozai says. He does not contest the ‘next time.’

- - -

“Crown Princess Azula,” Zuko says.

“Your bandage is off, brother,” Azula says. “Are you blind?”

“No.”

(The blur of her red robes, the eye-searing glint of sunlight off her headpiece—he’s not blind in that eye. He’s just… still recovering.)

“Lovely,” she says. “Then what’s your excuse for the condition of this ship?”

…He has an increased budget for repairs, by the time she’s done. 

- - -

“Brother,” Azula says, “traditionally knives are to be delivered to the back.”

“I… what?” her brother says, still holding out the inexplicable thing. “No, I bought it at port. For you. See, it matches the one Uncle got me.”

“How original,” she says.

Her brother turns a shade of red that puts his bending to shame. Not that it’s a particularly high bar. “Fine, I’ll just—throw it out.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. At the least, Mai will want it.”

- - -

“Nice knife,” says Mai, looking at the hilt peeking out of Azula’s boot.

“Be silent,” Azula says, thus ending that conversation.

- - -

“Did great-grandfather… did we…” starts her brother, fresh from scurrying about the Eastern Air Temple like some particularly dim-witted pheasant-monkey, the dust not even brushed from his clothes even though he knew her ship was waiting down here. “Azula, there were children—”

“Be silent,” she says.

- - -

“You’re leaving frequently,” comments father, as his knife cuts through the pheasant-monkey, clicking against the plate below. The persimmon-cherry sauce is thick and red and smearing.  

“I find it advantageous to cultivate a working knowledge of our nation’s tactics,” Azula answers. She does not push around her meat like a child, but she does eat only lightly; the dish is more sour than she remembers.

“And your brother?”

“Oh, him,” she says, to which her father smiles.

- - -

“...What?” Zuko asks, blinking down at the scrolls. 

“It’s your birthday,” Azula says. “Apparently, I should have gotten you a calendar.”

“Thank you?”

She sighs.

- - -

“Do we… tell him we can hear him?” asks the assistant cook, as the prince continues monologuing. Dramatically, and loudly. Through the pipe connecting the drain of the kitchen sink to the ones in the shower. 

“Ssh, I think this is one of his new plays.”

- - -

She gets him a calendar for his next birthday. It’s not funny.

- - -

He gets her a doll, for hers. The look on Uncle’s face as she torches it in front of them both is hilarious.

- - -

“Brother,” she says, looking up at the damage to his ship. “This is not the way to requisition additional repair funds.”

“Captain Zhao,” her uncle says in the background, with heights of pleasant antagonism she can only aspire to. As if a general could mistake Zhao’s new insignia. Particularly with all the polishing he does. 

“It’s commander now.”

“How did you manage this?” she asks.

“Uh,” Zuko says. “Can we… speak alone?”

She eyes her brother’s shifting stance. Eyes, too, the way Zhao’s men are already moving to intercept and interrogate his crew. One of the new commander’s more noxious habits is stalking her brother’s every move. 

Well. She’d been meaning to deal with that, anyway.

Azula snaps her fingers at the commander’s guards.

“Detain him,” she says. And for a moment, just a moment, her dear uncle freezes, as if she were talking about someone he actually cared for.

The guards don’t. She’s trained them better than that.

“Princess,” Commander Zhao says, his snarl well hidden behind a smile. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Crown Princess Azula,” she corrects. “Now hush; the adults are talking.”

- - -

They have an Avatar to catch, apparently. Her brother is coming home.

#her brother is coming home #it may be time for some other changes as well #how does the pheasant-monkey taste father? #oh of course I haven’t had any #you know I haven’t liked that since I was a little girl #are you feeling well father? #why don’t you have a little lie down father #oh is your crown uncomfortable? #let me just remove that for you #hush now #sleep #goodnight father #say hello to grandfather for me #avatar the last airbender #atla #Zuko #Azula #ficlets #yep that prompt hit the spot thanks Anon <3

[roboticlover20]

TO THE PEOPLE WHO HATE SELF SHIPS AND OC X CANON

WELCOME TO TUMBLR LAND OF THE CRINGE MOTHER FUCKERR

No but seriously don’t be going around telling people that they’re bad for shipping themselves with a canon character as long that character has the ability to consent there nothing wrong being done here. Its ok to dislike this type of stuff or find it cringe but can’t you just like yknow? mind your own business? Scroll away? Theres plentiful of talented artists here that can offer content of your fandom. We just having be having fun >:^(

I understand there is simps that go too far for their fictional crushes but we aren’t all like that, and the best thing to do is to block and report them if they’ve went too far (eg harassment or doxxing)

To the oc x canon and selfshippers do what makes you happy! But please do not gatekeep or harass others for liking your fictional crush!

#kinito oc #kinito x oc #oc x canon #self ship #selfshipping #kinito the axolotl #kinitopet #kinito #sesami the sea bunny #CRINGE AND FREE #self shippers #let people be happy #my art

[niki-phoria]

hello, i hope you're well and taking care of yourself 💗 if it's not too much to ask for i want to request enha reacting to their 8th member bf being shipped/paired with another member? not exactly angst but them being jealous and petty, i read your rules before requesting and i don't think it's against them, but i understand if you decline for whatever reason! hope you have a good week <3

⋆｡°✩ enha reaction - their bf being shipped with another member

includes: established relationship, 8th member reader, these are less petty and more the boys needing reassurance lol, mentions of insecure enha

a/n: thank you for requesting !! this isn't against my rules at all, but thank you for checking. i hope you like it :))

feedback is always appreciated <33

male 8th member reader (he/him pronouns)

⋆｡°✩ heeseung

(word count 221)

heeseung furrows his eyebrows as jake shifts slightly closer to you. your shoulders brush against each other as you raise a hand up to complete a hand-heart with the other boy, causing a new wave of cheers to erupt from the audience below.

the stage lights are nearly blinding as they shine down on you. heeseung can feel stares from the audience below. he’s hyper aware of the cameras following his every move as he takes a small breath in an attempt to hide his growing jealousy. 

“unfortunately this is our last song for tonight,” jungwon begins apologetically. 

“it’s been an honor to preform for you all. we hope to see you again sometime soon,” you say. heeseung smiles softly at the way you brighten up at the second wave of cheers through the crowd.

you wander over to sit beside him on the stairs, leaning your head against his shoulder. heeseung’s arm finds a familiar place around your waist, tugging you even closer to him. he leans over to press a kiss against your forehead as the first few notes of shout out begin to play. 

“my life without you is a misery,” you bring a hand up to cup heeseung’s cheek, turning to face him as you finish singing your line. “my heart is racing like it’s gonna explode.”

⋆｡°✩ jay

(word count 214)

you tiredly rub the last remnants of sleep out of your eyes as you quietly enter the kitchen. jay stands with his back towards you, scrolling through something on his phone. even from behind you can see tension in his shoulders. 

“jay?” you walk closer to him, hesitantly resting a hand against his waist before you pull him into a back hug. he startles slightly at the contact but doesn’t move away. your arms rest gingerly wrapped around him as you peer over his shoulder to see what he was reading on his phone. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he whispers. 

you bring a hand up to rest against his shoulder, gently massaging the tension out of his muscles. you softly smile when he relaxes against you. “jay,” you sigh. “you know you can tell me anything.”

he twists around in your hold so he’s facing you; his back is now leaning against the counter. “it’s just a dumb article from dispatch.” 

“about?” 

“...you. and sunoo. people think you’re dating.” he glances down at the floor, almost ashamed. “i just don’t like the idea of my boy dating someone else.”

“you have nothing to worry about,” you whisper. you bring a hand up to cup jay’s cheek, quickly pulling you into a sweet kiss. “i promise.”

⋆｡°✩ jake

(word count 223)

you adjust the thin, black mask on your face as you sleepily watch the cashier continue scanning the miscellaneous items the other members had asked you to pick up from a nearby convenience store. another yawn escapes you as sunghoon brushes against your side, sliding yet another bag of chips towards the worker. her long, black hair has been messily tied back into a low ponytail. a thin pair of glasses frame her features. 

sunghoon’s arm gently brushes against your waist as he stands beside you at the register. the woman smiles softly at both of you as she finishes scanning the last of your items. “you two are cute together,” she says. 

“oh, we’re not-”

you’re cut off by a gentle but stern voice from beside you. jake’s arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you away from sunghoon and against his chest. “he’s mine, actually.” 

sunghoon stifles a small chuckle at your embarrassment as he takes the bag from her, handing her a few bills in return. “thank you,” you murmur as you turn to leave the store. 

“so, jake-hyung,” sunghoon teases as you begin walking back towards the dorms. “are you perhaps… jealous?”

jake remains silent, though you notice the way his grip around you tightens slightly. “shut up,” he mumbles, hiding his reddened cheeks behind his own mask.

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon

(word count 220)

sunghoon softly smiles as you step closer to the crowd as you reach down to pick up a small penguin plush laying at the edge of the stage. you hold the plush up to your cheek, playfully posing for the cameras. 

heeseung chuckles softly, stepping closer as he reaches up to adjust the cat ears a fan had carefully placed on your head a few minutes before. you lean down slightly to give him better access as he adjusts your hair around the faux ears on your head. 

a small wave of cheers echoes through the crowd at the interaction. despite sunghoon knowing it was completely platonic from both you and heeseung, he can’t help the jealousy that immediately spreads throughout him. it curls around his heart and constricts in his chest as a small frown tugs at the edge of his mouth. 

you step back away from heeseung after he finishes adjusting your hair, wandering back over to sunghoon’s side. you gently uncross his arms from over his chest - something he had done unconsciously - before leaning back against his chest. his arm finds its familiar place around your waist as he holds you against him. 

“don’t be jealous, hoon,” you whisper. sunghoon simply playfully rolls his eyes in response; though you can tell he’s silently grateful for the reassurance.

⋆｡°✩ sunoo

(word count 218)

sunoo furrows his eyebrows slightly as he continues scrolling through the comments on a recent dispatch article. you can’t help the way your own eyebrows furrow in concern as you quietly close your bedroom door and set your things down before joining him on your shared bed. “what are you reading?”

he sighs slightly as he hands his phone to you. you scroll to the top of the article, reading the headline: enhypen’s y/n and niki are seen holding hands on a possible late night date.

“it’s stupid, i know,” sunoo begins. “but it’s been bothering me for the past few days.”

“it’s not stupid,” you whisper. you set his phone aside, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. your hand falls to cup his cheek as you gently tilt his face up so he’s looking into your eyes. “sunoo, you’re incredible. you’re sweet, and kind, and handsome,” he chuckles softly, playfully pushing your hand away as he denies your compliments. you lean over him with a small smile. “and everything i could’ve asked for in a lover.”

a small blush spreads across sunoo’s face as you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead. then his cheek. nose. and finally, his lips. “you mean everything to me, kim seonwoo.”

⋆｡°✩ jungwon

(word count 223)

jungwon curiously pushes his still-damp fringe back as he steps out of the bathroom, tugging your t-shirt over his shoulders. you stifle a small grunt when he walks over to you and lays down with his head resting against your back. 

he laughs as he rolls off of your body to lay next to you. “what are you doing?”

“searching my name.” jungwon furrows his eyebrows slightly in concern as you hand him your phone. “it’s nothing bad. just more dating rumors with jay.”

“more?” the word sounds akin to a whine as it leaves his lips. you stifle a chuckle at the small pout threatening to tug at his lips. he tosses your phone aside, relishing in the feeling of curling up beside you. your arm rests gingerly around jungwon’s waist as you pull him even closer. “why don’t you ever get dating rumors with me?”

“sorry wonie,” you murmur. “you know i would stop them if i could.”

jungwon lets out a soft sigh. you bring your hand up, slowly beginning to rake your fingers through his hair. you twist the soft strands in an attempt to soothe the boy laying in your arms. “i know,” he whispers. he softly smiles as he leans up just enough to press a kiss against your jawline. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ niki

(word count 204)

niki’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he continues scrolling through his weverse feed. there are hundreds of posts, each of them about a recent interaction between you and jungwon. he had simply brushed some of the hair out of your face - a common interaction you often shared with the other members; himself included. though seeing so many posts about his boyfriend with someone else made an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy cloud his mind. 

niki jumps slightly when you enter your shared bedroom, closing the door behind yourself. he shuts his phone off, setting it on your bedside table. 

“is everything okay?” you ask, moving to sit on the bed beside him. niki remains silent. he lets you reach over to coax him closer to you until his head rests in your lap. you rake your hand through his hair, twisting the strands between your fingers. 

“‘m fine,” he finally hums. he lets his eyes slowly flutter closed, exhaustion slowly beginning to catch up with him as he nuzzles his body even closer against you. 

a comfortable silence falls over the room for a few minutes as you keep playing with his hair. “are you sure?” you finally whisper.

“i’m just… glad you’re mine,” he smiles.

#enha fluff #enha x reader #enha x male reader #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #heeseung x male reader #heeseung fluff #jay x male reader #jay fluff #jake x male reader #jake fluff #sunghoon x male reader #sunghoon fluff #sunoo x male reader #sunoo fluff #jungwon x male reader #jungwon fluff #niki x male reader #niki fluff #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enha reactions #enha x you #enha x y/n #enha reaction #enha scenario #enha drabble #enha one shot #male reader

[blainesebastian]

clingy

words: 2,009 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “what about austin with someone even touchier than him. maybe fans start saying she’s always clinging on him so she gets self conscious in public but austin notices right away” warnings: none notes: prompt just slightly different from request-- this can be read in tandem with ‘touch’ but isn’t necessary. requests are back open for now :) thanks to anyone who's left me one! appreciate it xx tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

Frowning at a few candid photos posted on Instagram, you scroll through the comments. You usually don't allow yourself to go down this rabbit hole because it shouldn't (and doesn't) matter what people think about you and Austin. No one is in this relationship except the two of you, you know that's the only thing that matters...and yet, these comments are burning into your eyes and imprinting on the back of your mind. It's mostly because it's spiteful, they're not fooling you on that, but that doesn't make them any easier to read.

There's a set of photos of you and Austin at a cafe last week that had a patio, enjoying the pleasant weather while you could. Austin is seated in one of the chairs, a pair of sunglasses and a ballcap on as he drinks his iced coffee. You're standing between his legs in the first photo and then you're sitting in his lap the second. Not that you need to justify this to anyone, but the patio was practically empty and you weren't disturbing anyone's afternoon. It's not like you were making out or somehow making this interaction obscene. You're typically seated on Austin's lap, it's so automatic at this point that he'll often find your hand and tug you to sit down on him—zero complaints.

Regardless that these strangers are not entitled to any background information, you know that might change a few people's opinions as they spit out nasty comments.

elvislover: you can tell he's super uncomfortable—like, yikes ericatownton: she literally does not give him a moment to breathe austinfan: #clingyaintcute

There are some bright spots,

austin345: can some of ya'll mind your own business? austin looks so happy in these? i don't get some of these comments shannonhyat: they're so cute! wish i could sit on austin like that, ngl eyeswithwonder: find yourself a man who looks at you like austin looks at Y/N—like she's hung the moon bro

but sometimes those aren't enough.

You've always been the touchy type—ever since your first boyfriend, but maybe it's gone beyond that, you've reached out and squeezed someone's arm while laughing, you're easy to hug to express emotion, and God, definitely super cuddly when you get a bit drunk. People who have never been your friends have called you a flirt or, just like the comments you're seeing, clingy...but you've never really found anything wrong with it. It's one of your love languages, how you best convey how you're feeling—and it's not like Austin isn't the same way.

He's big on touch, ever since you've known him, even when you two were just friends. Always with the hands on your hips, your waist, your lower back, fingers through your hair or playfully gripping your chin or absentminded centers of connection, knees against knees, shin along shin, shoulders brushing. He's never been shy about it...so why all of a sudden do you feel like you need to be?

You have no idea why you’re letting this bother you—Austin has never said anything that’s hinted that he’s uncomfortable, and you know he’d tell you. You really hate that this has gotten so underneath your skin.

You debate on whether you want to mention something to Austin or not, maybe talk about it or just…ask if there’s any merit in thinking you’re too clingy, if you should back off a little? But you never manage to get the words out of your mouth.

Setting your phone face down, you look up as Austin comes in from a night out with some cast members. He had asked originally asked if you wanted to join but you had dinner with your agent that you couldn’t miss (because it’d already been rescheduled twice).

“Hi,” He says warmly and walks over to where you’re seated on one of the stools at the island table. You hum as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and intimate, body heat rolling off his skin.

He smells like cologne and just a twinge of cigarette smoke, alcohol, intoxicating in a way it probably shouldn’t be. You find yourself closing your eyes as he leans a bit against you, not drunk but definitely tipsy, a lazy smile on his face as he pulls back. You smirk, reaching up to thread your fingers through his wild curls.

“Have a good time?”

“Would have been better with you,” He replies matter-of-factly, slipping his jacket off and setting it on one of the other stools. Austin clears his throat, getting a good look at you for a moment and pauses, “You alright?”

He knows you, lifts his hand to curl his pointer finger and brush it across the crinkling of your skin between your eyebrows. Far too well.

This could be your moment but…it feels foolish to mention it. Not only because Austin’s a bit inebriated and it wouldn’t be right to draw him into this conversation, but because the longer you sit with these thoughts, the more silly they feel. Right?  

“Yeah,” You lie through your teeth, giving him a soft smile. “M’just tired, got a headache.”

He hums lightly, moving to press a long kiss to your forehead. “I can make you some tea.”

You let out a laugh which is mostly air leaving your nose, “You are swaying on your feet,” You cup his cheek, amused and fond, “Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?” You lean up to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

He crinkles it but smiles down at you, “What’d you have in mind?”

You playfully tap his cheek, “Bed—maybe a shower.”

Austin purses his lips, seemingly in thought for a moment before he nods—and then ever so quickly scoops you up into his arms. It’s haphazard and ridiculous and you can’t help but laugh as he carries you towards the bathroom,

“Hey! I didn’t mean with me.” And you can’t stop yourself from laughing, Austin teasingly grabbing at your ass. He barely turns the water to the shower on before he sets you down, drawing you into a kiss.

--

It’s been a relatively lazy day which you’ve seriously come to appreciate, it’s not often that you get many of them to spare. You’ve spent the morning with Austin browsing a large farmer’s market, deciding on fresh fruit and vegetables and handmade products that you probably don’t need but are indulging on. It’s fun, calming—it’s in moments like these where you can kinda forget how crazy your day to day lives can be. There’s comfort in that normalcy together.

You decide to go to the same bistro on the corner from your apartment for lunch, a place that you both have been before countless times because of the great food and rich coffee. Not to mention that you’re slightly obsessed with the beautiful patio outside that’s perfect for a little fresh air and spots of sun. It fills up fast but this is where it pays to be a bit of a celebrity—when Austin calls ahead, they make a table up for him, no matter how busy they are.

Can’t deny that you kinda love that perk as you pick at some fries on your plate next to a finished sandwich, full and content, legs under the table pressing into Austin’s as he talks about his upcoming project. You can’t help but smile as he talks with his hands, animated, excited for what’s to come because he deserves every single moment of it.

There are small moments of enjoyable silence, just sitting in one another's company, the hand that's not eating fries sitting loosely on the table. Austin's hand finds yours automatically, something so automatic that it makes your stomach do a complete flip. Your eyes glance down to the rings on his slender fingers, running along yours, squeezing every so often. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you pick up your iced coffee to take a sip.

"Today was pretty great," You comment after the breeze picks up and flutters your hair. You run your fingers through it, adjusting sunglasses on your face.

"It was," Austin agrees, running his thumb along your knuckles, "You regret that we don't always have time for it?"

You give him a small smile, shaking your head, "No, course not. Just makes it that much more special when we do."

Austin hums, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He then tugs, encouraging you to stand, and you already know where this is going before it happens. This is something you do all the time—you share food or coffee together and find yourself on Austin's lap. Even on this crowded patio, you're tucked into one of the end corners near the lines of bushes for a bit of privacy, your stomach clenches with nerves in a way it's never done before. You can't help but think about all those stupid comments, burning letters into the back of your vision.

You completely tense up, freeze in spot.

Austin notices automatically, of course, his eyebrows drawing together in soft confusion as he looks up at you, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You reply, too quickly, shaking your head--he can read right through you, Austin's always been good at that.

He lets out a soft sigh out of his nose, holding your gaze for a long moment, blue eyes boring into yours. And yet, you can't seem to move. Curling your hair around your ear, you glance at the other tables, expecting to see eyes on you, maybe people taking candid photos to appear online later...and yet there's nothing. Of course there's nothing.

"You're shaking," He replies gently, standing now from his chair. He runs both of his hands down your arms, squeezing, “What’s goin’ on?”

You almost want to brush it aside but Austin’s locked in now, he’s not going to let you. So you briefly roll your eyes towards the sky, a shaky laugh following, “You’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.” He encourages.

Chewing on your lower lip, you give a soft nod, “Uhm—do you…do you think I’m clingy? Like, as a girlfriend?”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, unsure of how you’re topic jumping to this and it looks like he might want to smirk but doesn’t because he can tell you’re upset. “I think…both of us enjoy attention through touch, there’s nothin’ wrong with that though. Doesn’t make you clingy.”

He keeps your gazes connected, making sure you hear him, that the words register and you find yourself nodding once. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and Austin cups your cheek, shifting you into a kiss that lasts a good handful of moments. You know he’s doing it on purpose too, keeping you close, drawing it out.

When he pulls back, he playfully nips at your lower lip, making your smile much more genuine, “And don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

You hum in acknowledgement because Austin knows, of course he knows where you were coming from. You’re not sure whether that means he’s been on social media too or can just sense it—you’ve talked about pap photos before, candids posted by fans. It’s never really bothered you until now. It means a lot that he sees you, without having to explain or justify how you feel. You definitely love him for that.

“Now,” Austin says, sitting back down in his chair, “C’mere.” He motions towards himself with his fingers.

You can’t help but laugh warmly, taking Austin’s hand and allowing him to tug you over to him. Sitting down on his lap, perched on his one leg like it’s the simplest thing in the world, you lean your shoulder against his chest. He smiles up at you, hooking a finger underneath your chin to draw you into a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, no cares in the world—especially for anyone who might be looking.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another" Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 5:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Hurt feelings and misunderstandings.

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

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“....useful asset… reckless…. irritable… not a member of the team to me…”

You'd gotten back to the ship earlier than planned, entering quietly as not to wake Omega. You froze upon hearing your name in Hunter's voice and then in Tech’s. It felt wrong, listening in to a private conversation, but you couldn't stop the way your heart sped up, sending butterflies swirling about your stomach upon hearing Hunter's voice. He sounded confused, upset even. So against your better judgment, you stayed. Now you wished you hadn't.

Is that really what they think of me? Reckless, irresponsible. An asset.

Not even a member of the team. An asset.

You curled into the pillow, hidden away behind the thick curtains that Wrecker had hung around your bunk.

Probably so that they wouldn't have to see me - so that they can just forget I'm here until I'm useful.

Tears burned hot, soaking the pillow in a silent grief. It hurt. You thought you'd finally found a home - finally found where you belonged. Now you knew that was a lie.

First Hunter. Now the whole squad.

The jagged remains of wishful hope that still lingered in your chest fractured further, splintering like glass.

You could still see it clearly. Though it was only a glimpse caught in nanoseconds, the sight of it branded itself behind your eyes like a hot iron. Hunter and Tara, lips locked in a moment of passion. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His hand on her waist.

The datapad lying forgotten on the bunk at your feet chimed loudly, drawing you back into the moment with a start. Almost instinctively, your fingers curled into fists, hands shaking, nearly drawing blood as your fingernails dug against the skin of your palm, clenching ever tighter until the skin around your knuckles turned white. Another mission. Echo must’ve been out at Cid’s. You scrolled through the dossier he’d sent, annoyance flashing across your face. They’d already assumed you’d be ready and able like nothing had happened.

Nothing has happened - at least not to them.

It was so easy to forget that all the turbulence that boiled under your skin was simply a product of your own mind.

One more mission. One more day.

You’d give them this. One last mission because you couldn’t bear to let them down. No matter what they thought of you, the love you felt for this squad was still there scrambling in a desperately futile attempt to repair the shattered pieces of hope that stubbornly refused to leave. Hope like that was dangerous. You’d only get hurt again - yet it continued to fight back.

But what if…

No.

Could it have been a misunderstanding?

No. Stop.

Am I overreacting for nothing?

If you keep this up you’ll just end up worse than before. Just accept that you don’t belong here. One last mission then you’ll leave.

But I don’t want to go…

Yes you do. It’s better this way.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your face and quickly headed to the fresher keeping your eyes down lest anyone see the telling red-rimmed, swollen eyes and splotchy patches adorning your face.

It’s all professional now. This is just another job. The mission comes before all else. Emotions get you killed.

The cool water soothed the heat of your skin. You stared into the mirror making no attempts to dry the wet dripping down your face, allowing it to wash away all evidence of hurt. It was surprisingly easy to allow yourself to slip back into the gruff bounty hunter facade you’d kept up for so long before joining the Batch.

Focus on the task at hand. Get the job done.

Sitting back down on the bed, you drew the curtains again and unlocked the small trunk that held what little belongings you had. Sitting inside was the trooper doll companion you were making for Omega - stuffed with one of Hunter's old bandanas. It was only half finished.

And probably won’t ever be now, you thought as you picked it up, fingers running gently over the soft material. The tears threatened to come again at the thought of a memory that was no longer yours to make.

Something stuck out from beneath an extra jacket. Against your better judgment, you pulled it out and sighed. A bittersweet nostalgia knotted your stomach. There you were beside Hunter - Omega squeezed between you, smiling proudly despite the grime that covered her tunic. It was her first training exercise. You smiled proudly down at her. Even Hunter sported some semblance of a grin.

The fingertips encroaching on the sides of the image denoted Wrecker as the camera operator. Tech and Echo engaged in ship repairs in the background.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that time. Everything seemed simpler then.

Swallowing hard, you put the holopic back at the bottom of the trunk, covering it fully with the jacket. You shoved the remainder of your supplies into your pack and shut the trunk, letting the lock click into place with a resounding finality.

Clenching your teeth, you took a deep breath. One more mission. One more day.

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

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @ghostlyembassy @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898 @all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men @theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytoooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

#as iron sharpens iron #hunter #hunter x you #hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter tbb #hunter tbb x reader #hunter tbb x you #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #star wars #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #clone wars #swtcw #sw tcw #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #hunter bad batch #bad batch

[writing-for-life]

Right, okay, I’ve thought long and hard whether to write this:

A squick (even a strong one) is not the same as a trigger.

Emotional discomfort, even emotional discomfort that leads to low-level physical symptoms like e.g. mild nausea, is not trauma. Unfortunately, TikTok pop psych has done nothing to help people understand the difference, because the trend to perceive (even strong) emotional discomfort as equivalent to a trauma response is worrying and neither helps people with nor without PTSD. I don’t wish it on anyone to actually find out the difference if they haven’t yet (disclaimer, since this is unfortunately necessary these days because everything gets misconstrued: I am not talking about individual experiences, because only you can know about those. I’m talking about wider trends in an often young audience with not enough background info to be able to tell apart sound medical/psychological info and viral BS created by “influencers” for some kind of personal gain).

What people in the current fandom spat want to have tagged as “triggers” are overwhelmingly squicks. And we’re probably all guilty of quickly saying “that triggered me”, myself included (and I’m a licensed psychotherapist, shame on me). It has become somewhat of a shorthand for “extremely annoyed or grossed out”. But when it gets used in the context of tagging, it’s good to remember that no one owes us a tag list the length of our arm just because we don’t like certain things. Even if we strongly dislike them.

And even on the occasion someone else’s yuck or yum is an actual trigger for us, it is impossible to cover for every possible trigger, because in theory, EVERYTHING has the possibility to trigger someone somewhere.

E.g., a certain smell in a supermarket holds the rare possibility of triggering someone, but do you see disclaimers at the supermarket door that say, “May smell of 484 different things, which are in detail [list of 484 things] and might be different tomorrow. Plus, we might have a customer today who smells of that perfume that brings up your triggering childhood memories. Or maybe we won’t, but just on the odd chance we do, we thought we’d rather cover it”.

There might be one person with a very specific trigger that does literally nothing to the vast majority of people. Do we expect everyone on Tumblr to tag for “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” because of that? How about that person just puts “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” in their content filter instead?

Do we really suggest to put that type of responsibility on creators? More importantly: Who are we protecting that way? All we do is put people into bubble wrap and shift responsibility for our mental wellbeing away from ourselves to others.

We are trying to tell other people what to do for our own comfort. That’s controlling.

If we’re squicked out by something, there is a simple solution: we can stop looking or reading. We can use content (not tag) filters. In the worst case, we can block. We don’t have to put that type of responsibility for our personal sensitivities on creators (or people who reblog, for that matter).

We can tag for certain things as a courtesy, I’m all for it. I love being able to filter out stuff I’m not into, and I sometimes wish people would tag better or not tag a certain way (getting ship tags for a ship you’re not into slapped on your character-metas is annoying 🤣). But I don’t die, neither does it cause me unbearable distress, if I see cows where I don’t expect them. Scroll past or block. And if I’m worried about mature topics like nudity or violence: Tumblr has a community label for mature themes you can (and in my view should) use if in doubt. Funnily enough, many people don’t do that though—maybe because they worry about reach?

Of course we should include content warnings where they are due, no one says we shouldn’t. It’s also fair if a creator doesn’t wish to do that beyond general warnings (no specifics) though because they might give away, say, major plot points that way. In that case, general disclaimers like “contains depictions of violence”, or whatever it might be individually, are a good idea. And if that’s not specific enough for us despite knowing that “violence” in general might also contain our personal trigger, we might need to make the decision not to read it to stay safe, but we shouldn’t have a go at the writer for not tagging very specific things that might be considered spoilers.

Long story short: If we assume people are “triggered” by werewolves with vulvas or non-human characters, it might be worth thinking about whether we’re just talking about squicks that very much fall into the category of “personal responsibility”. And there are plenty solutions to that at our end—we don’t need to put that on creators…

#fandom problems #fandom entitlement #fandom stuff #squicks #vs #triggers #tagging #being grossed out or strongly disliking is uncomfortable #but it’s not the same as being triggered

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Can I request a smutty snippet of a hero and villain that is shipped by the the public? The public depict the villain as the top and the hero as the bottom, but in private, it’s the opposite.

Suggestive

The villain wasn’t loud.

Which was definitely the problem.

It started with harmless footage, honestly. Accidental acts of affection creating a sort of longing the public didn’t even know it had.

A desperate desire to be entertained and to gossip about the news. The news being the hero and villain, obviously.

Panem et circenses. The hero didn’t mind, they didn’t even care that much how wrong the public was. Sometimes, it was funny to scroll through the news articles and find out another detail about their…situationship. Claiming the hero blushed every time the villain threw a flirty line at them and revealing alleged proof of their routines and dates, only for their boss to yell at them to get back to work and stop staring at that phone.

The hero could live with this rather well. The world didn’t need to know how good, how heavenly, the villain looked under them, panting and begging. And if that meant the world believed they were actually the one in this position, fine with them.

However. The villain was quiet and that was a problem. Usually, they were quite eager to let the hero hear their reactions and let them see what they did to them. That was mainly what kept the hero going when it got…strenuous.

“You good?” The hero slowed their sporty pace and stared into the villain’s eyes.

Unfocused at first but then irritated, the villain stared back. “Yeah, keep going.”

It wasn’t a secret that the villain wasn’t easy to satisfy. Being moody and allergic to all that was fun and hijinks was why the hero liked them.

Well, liked to break them.

They fancied turning the villain into a whiny mess, enjoyed watching them let go and took pleasure in accomplishing as much as making their mouth curl into the tiniest smile.

They told themselves it was the challenge that pulled them towards the villain but after sleeping with them for…a while now, they weren’t sure.

Sometimes, the hero caught themselves wanting to take the villain’s hand when they were sitting in their kitchen in the morning after a particularly rough night. To just squeeze their hand, to reassure I’m here and This is real.

Sometimes, when the rays of sunshine slipped through the windows and dipped the villain into gold, the hero would feel the urge to kiss them.

Sometimes, the hero woke up first. And they would just observe quietly.

“You don’t look fine.” It was hard to ignore their own pleasure and longing but eventually, the thrusting of the hero’s hips came to a decrescendo. With a dripping plop, they parted.

“Fuck,” the villain cursed and the hero felt how hard their nails dug into their shoulders. That usually only happened when the hero decided to edge them.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I told you not to stop,” the villain hissed, frustrated. They rolled their eyes.

“You didn’t seem to be into it.”

“Well, I would’ve been if you hadn’t stopped.” Arguing with the villain was useless, the hero knew that. They were stubborn.

But the hero loathed this, too.

Something was wrong. The villain seemed to be angry or hurt or sad—

Whatever it was, the hero knew they wouldn’t talk about it. So instead, they got back on top, teasing between the villain’s thighs with their fingers.

Slow, calculated, careful.

“Fine,” the hero said, mumbling the words against the villain’s sensitive neck. “Let me love you.”

The hero pulled their hand away and kissed their enemy sweetly, making it slow, making it good. As they kissed down the villain’s neck, they felt muscles relax and fingers go through their hair.

Maybe they’d been too quick at first? Maybe they’d made the villain feel uncomfortable? The hero didn’t know what they’d done wrong.

“What is it?” they whispered before worrying the villain’s skin between their teeth, creating one of many hickeys. “Tell me, baby. What is it?”

They pushed the villain’s hips into the mattress, still kissing their neck and shoulders. Their eyes savouring that sight of the villain’s body. Fucking miracle. The hero blushed.

“Bad day—” the villain gasped. They clawed at their lover, nothing left of the grumpy attitude.

“Oh, sweetheart…” The hero managed to spread the villain’s legs and even put one of them on their shoulder. Once again, they blushed, even though they’d been in this position so many times before. When it came to the villain, they were losing their mind recently.

Again, the villain gasped.

“Relax, baby.” The hero put one hand flat on their chest, feeling the warm heartbeat under their skin. “What bothers you?”

The villain took a deep breath.

“TV said you were cheating on me.”

“We’re not together,” the hero reminded them and it hurt. God, they wished they were theirs. That they were each other’s. Fuck, this was bad. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“…I guess we’re not.”

“I can make it feel like we are,” the hero suggested. “I could make it feel like…you’re mine. May I?”

The villain nodded and with that, the hero pushed themselves back into them and with that, it was like every other lovely night.

Only this one left a bitter feeling, though.

#wdym by that 🤨🤨 #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #suggestive

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You leave the table almost as soon as you clear your plate. A single course is well enough to tide you over. After the day you’ve had, your fatigue is more pressing than your hunger.

You retreat up to your assigned suite and check to be sure the door is locked. You sigh as you pull sleeping clothes from your suitcase and take them into the bathroom. If you must be here, you will get what little benefit can be found.

You pour yourself another glass of wine and set it on the corner of the tub as it fills with steamy water. You ease yourself and soak in the rising depths, muscles coaxed free of tension. You shut off the faucet and recline, closing your eyes as you bask in the heat. You move only to sip from your glass, draining it as the water cools.

You get out, pruned and suitably drowsy. You pull on the satin shorts and matching camisole and slip into the fluffy linens on the bed. You moan as you sink beneath the down and the hazy night closes in on you, head foggy with the aid of wine. Just one night and you’ll be rid of this forsaken village.

Your sleep is uninterrupted as the alcohol seeps from your veins. You wake, with the shadow of a headache and a gurgle in your stomach. You get up to pluck a bottle of water from the small fridge and scroll through your phone. You have no signal.

You set up the single brew machine for a coffee and as you wait for your fare, you use the room phone to dial the mechanics number. It takes several attempts to get an answer. You are already agitated and painfully more awake by the minutes.

You give your name before you begin, “I’m calling to check on my car.”

“Ah, yes, hm,” he replies buoyantly, “miss, it is bad news–”

“Bad news? Can’t you just patch it so I can drive to the next city? Please, I’m certain they will have the part there–”

“Can’t be patched,” he says plainly, “you wouldn’t make it up the first hill.”

“Well, then, why don’t you drive into the city and retrieve the part I need? That sounds like a solution. I’ll pay for your gas–”

“Miss, I’ve called to all the shops in the county, they don’t have the right axel. It’s being shipped–”

“Shipped?!” The exclamation reverberates in your skull, “shipped? How long will that take?”

“Er, best case, two to three days, worst, a week–”

“A week? That’s the last of my vacation,” you cry, “it isn’t fair! It simply must be fixed–”

“I’m sorry, miss, it’s bad luck,” he drawls.

“Bad luck? Bad luck!?” Before you can explode, you stop yourself and slam the phone down. You do so several times before letting the receiver rest in the cradle. Blast this place!

You forget the coffee waiting for you and tear open your suitcase. You furiously go through your entire routine; makeup, clothes, hair. You might be stuck in this backwoods but you won’t let it rub off on you. You slip into a pair of heels and storm out with the room card clutched in your fist.

You nearly tumble down the staircase and grab onto the banister to keep yourself upright. You stomp, with echoing clicks, across the lobby to the front desk. You cross your arms against the edge as… Dana? Smiles back at you.

“I must speak with your manager.”

“My manager?” She tilts her head, “I… you mean Thor?”

“Whoever is in charge, I don’t care,” you insist, “it is urgent.”

“Um, sure, I’ll just radio him,” she chirps. You turn away before your agitation gets the best of you. Her chipper demeanour, her curved lips, you could claw her damn dumb eyes out. You hear a crackles as she speaks into a hand radio, “Thor, when you have a moment, can you pop up to the front?”

There’s a pause before she gets a response, “certainly, sweetheart, you got something special for me?”

She giggles and the radio beeps again, “Thor, it’s a guest issue.”

You shake your head and pace around the airy space. You wouldn’t call it hideous. It’s antiquated but refined. The plinthed vases, the statues better suited to a romanticist aesthetic, and the intermingled runic markings clash yet not egregiously so.

“Ah, I knew it would be you, lady,” Thor boisterously bounces in from behind the staircase, “have you a chance to try our continental?”

“I am not here to talk about burnt bacon,” you chide as you face him. He approaches, stopping a bit too close for comfort.

“Alright, your wish is my command, what is it now?” He crosses his arms and you mirror him, raising your chin defiantly.

“You are going to drive me to the city. Now.”

“Me?” He scoffs, “and why would I do that?”

“I have money. I will pay for your gas and even a gratuity for your time. I’m certain you haven’t anything too important calling for you here–”

“Can’t,” he rejects you simply.

“Can’t?” You repeat, “you must.”

“I run a hotel, I’m not a valet,” he shrugs and drops his arms.

“You–” you stop your true thoughts from spilling out, “Why not?”

“Well,” he raises a thick finger, “I do have obligations here.”

“Oh, sure, you must,” you peer around at the empty lobby.

“A party. It’s my birthday,” he announces proudly, “so I can’t just up and drive to the city. I have things to do. But, since you’re stuck here, you’re welcome to attend–”

“A party? Aren’t you a bit old?”

“Never too old for fun,” he counters, “let your hair down, there’ll be lots of wine… and me.”

“I’d rather drown myself,” you hiss.

He booms with laughter and claps his hands, “oh, you are… delightful. Now, as much as I enjoy our banter, I do have a long list to get through. As it is, invitation stands. We could even make a game of, see who might dislodge the iron rod from your ass.”

Your hand flies out before you can think. You very nearly miss for how tall he is but your palm strikes his cheek hotly, the strike tingly in your palm as you rescind your arm. You stomp your heel down and snarl.

“How dare you, sir!”

He blinks and slowly brings his fingertips to his pinkened cheek. His brows lower and his blue eyes glow, the smile falling from his lips.

“You don’t speak to a lady like that,” you snip.

“If I see a lady, I’ll try to remember,” he retorts.

You scoff, several times. Your nostrils flare as you jut out your chin, “you are a beast.”

His face creases again as his grin slowly blooms. He winks, “oh, I certainly can be,” he growls.

You shake your head and twist on your heel, strutting away as you ball up your hands. You cannot believe him. Absolutely abhorrent.

“If you didn’t want me to notice your ass,” he calls after you, “you wouldn’t wag it around like a bitch in heat.”

You gasp as you stop at the bottom of the staircase. You glare back at him as he chuckles. You’re speechless. You’ve never been spoken to so grossly.

“Charming,” you sneer and turn yourself straight.

You don’t deserve this. You shouldn’t be stranded in this bodunk hole. You should be in the city, at the museum, at brunch! You surely shouldn’t be accosted by this animal who calls himself a man.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #the detour #avengers #mcu #marvel

[aurorabyler]

Flashbacks in Stranger Things: When, Why, and How They Are Used (Long Analysis)

sit back and relax everyone. this is gonna be my longest post yet.

disclaimer before anyone proceeds--i have not tagged this post with any relationships other than byler so if you do not like this pairing please just scroll past this post! i never cross tag because i truly want a safe fandom space for everyone. this is just my analysis of the show and my own brainrot.

I’ve thought about the usage of flashbacks in Stranger Things a lot over the past few weeks. I saw a post by user @girlskth on Twitter (HUGE shoutout to them for this very eye-opening post, please go check it out their tweet and give them all the love!!), who mentioned the contrast between Max’s scene in Dear Billy (running up that hill → from Vecna), versus El being trapped by the vines in 4x09.  First: we need to talk about flashbacks as they have been used throughout film and TV history as a key literary device. Here are some articles that I found that explain why flashbacks can be so important to understanding characters:

This quote is vital:

"Flashbacks are really a function of character, not story…the visual image we’re seeing is what the character is thinking and feeling at that present moment…it illuminates a character’s point of view.”

Flashbacks are never pointlessly placed. There is always an intent behind reverting back to the old material to demonstrate something about the character’s current mindset. 

These two scenes are clearly parallels (complete credits to @girlskth for bringing this up), as both Max and El are encountering the same situation–being trapped in Vecna’s lair and hearing a monologue from him. The scenes are not only plot parallels but visual ones.

However, there is one thing lacking in this parallel, and @girlskth brilliantly points out what it is—their emotional connection. Max relies on flashbacks of her happiest memories to free herself from Vecna’s trance and come back to reality. There are MANY flashbacks of her platonic relationships (her friendship with El being the most significant), and her romantic relationship with Lucas, which is ultimately what gives her enough time to run away from Vecna.

Now, going into El’s scene, I as a viewer was EXPECTING that they would show flashbacks of El’s happy memories with Mike during his monologue. This is coming from someone who does not ship these two characters together at all.

I like them as friends, and I was still waiting for them to show us moments from their kiss at the snowball, from Mike giving Eleven the name “El,” from Mike calling her for 353 days in season 2, from Mike saying “No, El, you’re not the monster–you saved me,” from El saying she loves him at the end of season 3…but nothing. 

Absolutely no flashbacks were shown apart from the scene of the boys finding El in the woods. This is extremely odd for a couple who has supposedly been the centrepiece of Stranger Things for four seasons, or, in the words of people who ship these characters, have been “built up for four seasons.” But no. Nothing.

This is an INSANE contrast to Max’s Dear Billy scene, which went out of its way to show her history with all of these characters over the 3 seasons her character has been in the show. 

The concept of “show, don’t tell,” is critical in understanding this parallel. Take Max’s relationships that are highlighted when she is in Vecna’s trance: these flashbacks all occur because she knows they will give her strength. She is never verbally prompted to think about these memories because she has confidence they will help her fight in her darkest moment. Here’s some more information on show don’t tell and how it is used in media:

If we apply Max's unconcious logic to El’s scene in Vecna’s lair, being able to pull from her happy memories with Mike should have been something that came relatively naturally to her. Except, this didn’t happen. What did happen? El’s memories with Max DID come naturally, and those memories ultimately saved Max’s life.

Zero Flashbacks to Mike/El's Past Seasons' Dynamic

While waiting for volume two, even as someone who likes this pairing platonically, I was excited to see flashbacks to season 1 Mike/Eleven once they reunited at the Nina Project. I’ll always be nostalgic for seasons 1 and 2 and I wanted to see some of their friendship dynamics from those seasons come back. I was literally expecting there to be some sort of “still pretty?” flashback, or some other cut back to season one. Again, I am saying all of this entirely as someone who 100% believes in a byler endgame for this show. I was still very surprised by this, and it is clearly intentional on the writer’s part.

Some would argue that the lack of flashbacks is due to the varying perspectives in Mike’s monologue scene. We see Mike’s, Will’s, El’s, and Jonathan’s POVs switching between each other in this scene. When peeling back the layers, we learned that Mike's monologue utilizes the miscommunication trope in a big way. Let’s analyze:

Mike is under the impression, because of Will, that “these past few months she (El) has been so lost without you…You make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all–like she’s better for being different. And that gives her the courage to fight on.” —Will, 4x09

First and foremost: Mike’s monologue would not have happened without Will’s veiled confession in the van. He believes Will’s feelings are El’s, and it is these feelings that make him think that what he says is what El needs to hear. 

Mike is TOLD (not sure if he entirely believes it especially after the final scene in the cabin when El walks away from him, but we’ll have to wait for more scripts to see the truth), that El has been “lost” without him and that she “needs” him to be able to fight.

This is what he is TOLD by Will about El, and this is not true, as NOWHERE during any of El’s scenes at school in California, or once Mike comes to visit, or during her time at the Nina Project, or during her battles with the military + Vecna does El EVER give the impression that she somehow needs Mike in her life to keep fighting, or that he gives her courage. In fact, given all of the parallels El draws between Mike's "what did you do?" and Brenner's "what have you done?" I would say what Mike gives her is the opposite of courage.

El keeps fighting because she has come into herself and she is powerful and strong, not because she needs Mike there to help her. And Mike, prior to Will’s confession, knows this is the truth, as seen by the line in the official script that was cut out from the show: 

If El truly needed Mike to “fight on,” as Will implies with his own feelings, I believe that more flashbacks would have been utilized, regardless of the multiple perspectives in the scene, to show how Mike has supposedly helped El “fight” in the past. But none of this was shown BECAUSE El’s battles have always been about her personal arc and growth. In the past seasons, El has never relied on or needed Mike to help her fight–he has been misled because of Will’s veiled confession. 

Perhaps the best example of El’s battles being about her own growth is in the 2x09 scene where she closes the gate: you'll see here that all the flashbacks she has during this critical battle have to do with her personal growth and past trauma. The same is true of her fight with the Demogorgon in season 1, of learning from Kali in season 2, of fighting Billy and the Mind Flayer in season 3--her relationship with Mike is not critical to any of these battles. It is her friendships and familial love that motivates her as well as her own coming of age.

The miscommunication about El "needing" Mike to be able to "fight" explains a lot of things, including, at least to an extent why Mike VISIBLY HESITATED when saying “I love you” for the first time in his monologue. There are obviously other reasons to this that have been analyzed by many other people, but I feel this miscommunication is critical.

This is something that has really been annoying me ever since season 4 came out: the whole plotline about Mike not being able to say he loves El should be extremely clear to audiences about what it implies. I love romance and I KNOW that the Duffers can write amazing love stories (Lumax, Jancy, Jopper…).

Lucas and Max never once say they love each other but it is clear to audiences–they SHOW it in their own ways. 

True love is shown, not told–especially in media.

That is how the most popular romantic pairings are so believable to audiences. Showing, not telling your love for someone, makes it feel real. And boom: ever since season 3 and ESPECIALLY after season 4, there have been hundreds of thousands of people saying that Mike/El's dynamic seems "off" somehow.

My point here is that if you love someone unconditionally, if you are truly, deeply in love with them, you would not hesitate for a moment to say that you love them, especially if they practically beg you to say it while crying about that very fact. You would also not call them “ridiculous” after they start crying and then you proceed to deflect blame about a situation you caused onto other people. 

Love is powerful. To me, it’s one of the most powerful things that exists in this world. And I believe that the writers of this show feel the same way: Love Conquers All. I’ll insert one of my favourite quotes from Avatar: The Last Airbender to display how I feel about this topic:

"You have indeed felt a great loss. But love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us. The air nomads' love for you has not left this world. It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love." -Guru Pathik, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Real, romantic love is never something that should be questioned at critical moments. Let me emphasize: I do not question that Mike platonically loves El. He clearly loves her a great amount as shown by what he has gone through with her over the course of the show, just as he loves Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, etc. 

Millie literally said in an interview for ST4 that “Mike is not loving Eleven the way she wants to be loved.” This situation for El is honestly extremely heartbreaking because she truly deserves so much better than what she’s been given. El is one of my favourite characters and I love her dearly, and seeing her suffer because of this relationship as well as the bullying at school hits very close to home for me. She deserves so much happiness and I hope she gets to have endless amounts of it by the end of season 5. 

How else have flashbacks been used in Stranger Things? 

The article I cited earlier holds true to the Stranger Things writer’s perspective on flashbacks. Remember: "flashbacks are really a function of character, not story…the visual image we’re seeing is what the character is thinking and feeling at that present moment…it illuminates a character’s point of view.” Utilizing flashbacks as a literary device in this manner has been seen multiple times in the show at key character moments. 

Will and Joyce

This flashback is key to showing Joyce's relationship with her son and how much she loves him. It holds true to the article in that it SHOWS that while searching for Will, she thinks back to the time they spent together in Castle Byers.

Jonathan and Will

Jonathan's relationship with Will is key to season one and remains one of the most beautiful parts of Stranger Things. This flashback, just like the ones with Max and Joyce, happens naturally. Jonathan associates The Clash with Will and can't help thinking back to their happy memories together once he hears the song play. This simple scene shows the depth of their relationship.

Hopper and Sarah

In my opinion, this is by far the most effective use of flashback Stranger Things has used to date. When I watched season 1 in 2016, this was the scene that made me cry my eyes out. I still think about it to this day as the catalyst that started my long-running love for this show. While trying to revive Will, Hopper is reminded of his daughter Sarah's struggle with cancer which led to her death. This flashback is a perfect representation of Hopper's development.

Hopper's arc in seasons 1 and 2 was one of my favourite things to watch: he starts as someone cold and isolated who drowns himself in drugs and alcohol to cope with his past trauma. Eventually, he learns to love again in all sorts of ways once Joyce comes back into his life. Hopper's drive to find Will and his love for Joyce inadvertently led him to El, and as he says in season 3:

"For so long, I'd been stuck in one place...And then, I left some Eggos out in the woods, and you came into my life. And for the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again." -Hopper's Letter, 3x03

In summary: flashbacks are used with intent and to SHOW the audience a character's internal struggles and thoughts. Stranger Things follows the textbook way to use flashbacks effectively, and has clearly been selective for a reason when it comes to which moments they choose to remind us of, as well as when, how, and why these moments are used. They have juxtaposed two very similar scenes and how the characters have escaped from the series' antagonist, Vecna, using these flashbacks/memories to their advantage. The final battle between El and Vecna was driven by El's love for Max. Mike was under the impression that what he said was what El needed to hear because it was veiled in Will's feelings. While these ideas have been widely discussed, showing how flashbacks have been effectively used throughout the show and comparing them to their usage (or lack thereof) in season 4 gives us excellent insights into El's headspace, as well as what the future holds for these characters. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this analysis so I really hope you enjoyed it! Please give it a reblog if you can and leave your thoughts in the comments. I'd love to know your interpretation :) Thank you so much for reading! <3

#byler #byler endgame #stranger things #stranger things theory #st4 #stranger things season 4 #vecna #running up that hill #mike wheeler #will byers #byler tumblr #mike wheeler x will byers #byler nation #001 #001 stranger things #stranger things meta #byler meta #theory

[yacinthemorning]

A Lesson in Listening

Summary: Grian's brother is moving to town and staying with him while he house hunts. While introducing him to his friend, however, Jimmy and Tango seem to make quite a connection. Determined not to suffer through the pining, Grian and Impulse attempt to play matchmaker.

Ships: Grian & Impulse(Platonic), Jimmy/Tango (Romantic), ZITS (Platonic), Grian & Jimmy (Familial)

Warnings: mild acephobia, verbal fight, sibling bullying, misunderstandings, relationship meddling

If Grian was good at one thing, it was connecting people. Not to be a braggart, but he was a sociable sort who was good at reading people, made new friends with ease, and led the pecking order in his circles. It was his great talent, really. One of many.

“Humility not being among them, clearly.”

“Shush.” Grian hissed, whipping his head around to glare daggers into Impulse. The stout man returned it with his trademark innocent smile, as if Grian didn’t know what went on in the head behind it. “You’re distracting me.”

Impulse chuckled. “What’s there to distract from?”

“I’ll have you know mixing friend groups is a very delicate process!” Grian explained, holding his phone to show the opened notepad doc. “Inviting the wrong person could be the difference between success and disaster.”

“I think you’re overthinking things, G. Anyone who’d get along with you will probably get along with your brother.”

Therein lied the problem, though. Jimmy was nothing like Grian. Okay, well, nothing was a bit of a strong word. Jimmy was extroverted and sociable like Grian, and they both had a fondness for mischief and cats. And maybe Jimmy was the first person Grian always invited to karaoke night when he was in town, because no one else was quite as enthusiastic as they were. But other than that they were nothing alike! For one, unlike Grian, Jimmy was a massive loser.

“That’s a bit rude.”

Grian squawked. “Would you please stop reading my mind!”

“You should stop speaking your mind, then.” Impulse shrugged and returned to scrolling through his phone. Grian had assigned him the task of picking out the venue for the night out, being far more familiar with the town than Grian. He paused, “You might as well monologue, I know you want to.”

“I don’t monologue! I’m not Scar.” Another name was struck out on the list. Doc was angry at him right now, anyways. “I just want things to go well, can I not be excited that Tim is moving closer? I’ve barely got to see him more than once every other month for the past several years! By the way, we can’t-“

“Can’t eat red meat so make sure there’s other options, yeah, I know.” A large hand patted down on Grian’s head, ruffling his hair.

He pouted, falling back into the cushions of his couch. “I feel like you do not appreciate the skill needed to coordinate you people. It’s like herding cats, you know.”

“Why do you think we leave it to you?” Impulse leaned over Grian’s shoulder. “Who you got so far, anyways?”

“You, Scar, Gem, and Cleo. Mostly people he’s met before at least.”

A curious hum filled the air and Grian patiently waited for whatever idea was brewing in Impulse’s head. There were a few taps to his screen, then, “You think Tango can come?”

“Tango?” Grian’s eyebrow quirked up. “Isn’t he hauled up in his basement working on some game right now?” While most certainly a good friend, Tango was one Grian went almost just as long without seeing as his brother half a day’s drive away, despite being a street away. Once he had an idea he would dedicate himself to it until it was done.

Impulse sighed. “Yeah. Zed was able to get him outside for an hour last week, and he went on some business trip for a bit, but he also hasn’t eaten in like two days last I checked. It’d be good excuse to drag him out. He’s gonna forget what real people sound like outside his headphones if we don’t.”

“I honestly don’t know how he expects to survive if he moves out from you guys.”

“I already made him promise to give me a set of spare keys when he does.”

Grian tilted his head as he stared at his last message to the man in question. Something about a crazy idea for a remote-controlled cat toy he thought of. In all honesty it wasn’t the worst idea. Not the cat toy- Tango was a strong personality who left a big impression, but he was always polite. Certainly much more introverted than everyone else going, but not nearly as bad as Zed. At least, when he remembered to leave his basement. It couldn’t do them any harm. At the very worst he could sit in the corner and chatter with Impulse. “Yeah, sure, let’s invite him.” He said, already typing. 

Impulse gave a thumbs up. “Tell him we’re gonna go to that barbeque place he loves, that’ll get him.”

“I said-”

“They have plenty of chicken and even vegetarian options, I double checked. It’s right across from the bowling alley, too. And call him, don’t text, or he’ll never see it.”

It was a small miracle Tango agreed to go. It was a small miracle he answered his phone at all. The mention of barbeque worked, though. How much of the rest of the evening they could convince him to stick around for had yet to be seen, but Grian was hopeful he’d stay a little while at least.

Impulse could deal with Tango, though. Right now, Grian had his hands full with Jimmy. They were running ten minutes behind because his poor little brother couldn’t bear going a day without a bubble bath. “C’mon, Tim, get in the car!” He shouted from the window.

Jimmy stumbled in, nearly dropping his phone between the seats in the process. “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying, I just had to send a text. I thought this was supposed to be fun?” He whined. The second his door was closed Grian began driving, not waiting for him to get his seatbelt in. He was so tall and lanky he’d just smash his head through the glass whether he had one on or not, anyways.

“It’s called punctuality, Timmy. Something the hosts should have!”

“Alright, I get it.” He slumped back into his seat, caving as he always did. It must be hard, having an older brother who was always right. Of course, it was much harder being said brother, as Grian could attest.

The car ride was quiet, only the radio filling the space while Grian worked to remember where he needed to go. Jimmy was the first to break the silence, “So, I’ve scheduled some tours for this week.”

Grian hummed. “Anything promising?”

“Actually yeah.” He chirped, pulling out his phone. Before he could shove it in Grian’s face he put his hand up. It’d only been a month since he rear-ended a Toyota, and he’ll be damned if he hit someone else. The last thing his friends needed was to reignite the jokes about him being too short to see over the dashboard. Jimmy made a whine but didn’t try again. “There’s a place not far out of town in the farmlands. It’s small and old, but it’s an actual house with over half an acre.”

“I dunno why you care so much about land. A condo downtown is way better.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? I could have a garden.”

“I guess.” The obnoxiously large sign for the barbeque glared high above the trees and buildings around it just up ahead. “Oh, we’re already here. Should be mostly people you met before, by the way.”

“That’s fine.”

Pulling into the parking lot, Grian could already see Impulse’s minivan and Cleo’s beat up old car. He clicked his tongue as he pulled up next to them. “See! I told you we were late, everyone’s already here.”

“Oh, come off it, they probably just got here, it’s fine.”

It was not fine, the host should always be first, but he wouldn’t expect Jimmy to understand. The two squabbled all the way inside, only stopping to tell the waiter their booking. A nice large table on the patio already had most of Grian’s friends sitting around, still having yet to be served even drinks. Everyone but Tango despite his phone, unmistakable with its Guy Fieri case, on the table. Bathroom, maybe? He was always terrible about going before he left. Scar was the first to spot them. “G! Timmy! You’re here!”

“That we are.” Grian mumbled and turned to Impulse. “Where’s-”

“Hey, Grian, just in time!” The scratchy voice of Tango shouted too-loudly behind them. He saw Jimmy jump, and both brothers swivelled on their heels. Tango jolted back a bit, friendly wave shrinking to his side at the reaction. His eyes grew wide, locking with Jimmy’s which mirrored him like two deer caught in headlights. “Oh!” He squeaked unintentionally.

It jogged Jimmy out of his fright enough to look away, though Grian took suspicious note of the redness of his ears. He gave his baby brother a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t seem to see it.

“Right, well, Tango, Cleo, this is my brother, Ti-”

“It’s Jimmy.” Jimmy jumped in at lightning speed, holding his hand out for Tango to shake with a wide smile. “The name’s Jimmy.” Tango hesitated for a second, before tentatively shaking back with an equally tentative smile.

“Tango, of the Tek variety. Nice to finally meet you.”

“I thought you said your brother was Tim?” Cleo asked.

Impulse scratched at his bread. “Honestly, I thought it was.”

“It’s not, my name’s Jimmy. Don’t trust anything this man says, he’s a menace.” Jimmy huffed, which got far too enthusiastic an agreement from nearly the whole table for Grian’s liking. Behind him, Tango snuck around back to the table. In a baffling move, as far as Grian was concerned, he paused at the empty chair across from his own and pulled it out. He nodded towards Jimmy, who muttered a sheepish thanks. Grian narrowed his eyes at the engineer, but he seemed to be pointedly not looking at him. A shared look from Impulse, though, let him know he wasn’t the only one who took notice.

“Well, then, Jimmy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Cleo reached over the table, offering their hand.

Chatter very quickly picked itself up once they were all sat down. Most was directed towards Jimmy, asking what he did and the places he was looking at and how on earth did he get his hair that perfect. It was a bit awkward with him sitting at the end. Given the middle seat where Grian now sat was also empty, he suspected Tango’s little gentleman’s stunt had messed up the seating arrangement Impulse intentionally left. 

It wasn’t the last. When their drinks came Tango had ordered some crazy bright red fruity slushy monstrosity like he was on vacation or something. For him it might as well be. Something that brightly coloured, with a fruit skewer at that, was basically tempting the gods as far as Jimmy was concerned, who looked more dazzled by it than the already bright blue drink he ordered. Only a sip had been taken before Tango was nudging it towards him, asking, “Wanna try?” Which he wholeheartedly accepted.

Honestly, between that and the conversation somehow always managing to close into a back and forth between the pair, Grian wanted to gag. Did his brother have absolutely no shame? Or maybe Grian was just bitter he had to order something lighter as their driver. It was at least funny to watch Scar also ask for a sip and be completely ignored.

A large platter was ordered over individual meals. It was just easier, when everyone wanted to try this and that. Astonishingly, it was probably the first time Grian had witnessed Tango eat a vegetable, when he tried one of the skewers the brothers ordered on the side. That was the power of good barbeque, he supposed.

They finally called it after Gem won the third round of bowling in a row. Grian tapped against the open door of his car, glaring holes in the back of his brother’s head, who was too busy saying goodbye to Tango to notice. “Come ooon Tim!” He finally shouted after the third obnoxious little giggle they shared. When he turned, Grian narrowed his eyes. You ain’t subtle. The pair finally said goodbye for real, and Jimmy ran to get in the car before Grian decided to drive off without him. He’d barely gotten his seatbelt on before he was furiously typing something on his phone. Really?

“So, how was it?” Grian asked.

“It was fun, your friends seem cool.” Was the distracted response.

“Mhm…” He leaned closer over his shoulder. “And how was Tango?”

If it was possible to jump out of one’s skin then Jimmy had jumped out of his skin, muscles, and bones. “Huh?” He squeaked, face red and eyes bugged. Grian only returned it with an unimpressed eye roll.

“Oh please. You nearly dropped a bowling ball on your foot while swooning.”

“Well… He’s a cool guy, isn’t he?”

And that shut Grian up. More efficiently than he would like to admit. He expected Jimmy to deny it, or be too flustered to say much of anything. When Grian failed to reply Jimmy went back to his phone, tapping away with a smile. There was that obnoxious giggle again.

This was not one of the issues Grian anticipated having when his brother told him he was moving. 

“So, how do we set them up?”

Impulse Hummed, spending far too long reading the contents of a can of cream of mushroom like it wasn’t the same can he always bought. “Who?”

“ Who? ” Grian mocked back. “Tim and Tango!”

“Do we need to?” Three more cans joined the first, before they moved on to the broths. Grian threw the bouillon in the cart before his companion could grab a carton that would languish in the back of his fridge. “They seem to be doing fine on their own.”

“No, trust me. I know Tim. He was literally living with his last boyfriend before he realized they were dating and that he liked him. He’s an idiot.”

“And Tango hasn’t exactly been leaving the basement much lately.” Impulse conceded, grabbing a carton of pho broth anyways. Acceptable, Grian supposed.

“So, then, any ideas?”

They paused before entering the next aisle. The larger man’s face twisted in thought. “Well, we could invite him to D&D, run a oneshot, and have their characters drink a love potion until they get the hint.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea, absolutely not.” He wrote it down in his phone for a future session.

“Another dinner?”

“What are the odds of getting Tango out of the house twice?”

“Probably a lot higher than you’d think with how they were acting.”

“What if I gave Timmy a tour of your house and just locked the basement door behind him?”

“You know I’m starting to think we might be bad at this and should leave it to someone else.”

“Nonsense!” Grian grabbed the first bottle of soya sauce he spotted, much to Impulse’s protests. He wasn’t going to sit and wait for him to match the prices to the ounces. “Look, I know Timmy best, and you know Tango best. Logically, there’s no better pair of heads to crack together for this. They’ll thank us at the wedding.”

A jar of pickled bamboo shoots found its way into the cart beside the biggest bag of basmati rice Impulse could pick up. He had to catch his breath before he continued. “Listen, Grian, do you need to… talk, or something?”

“What?” Grian’s head whipped around from the wall of spices he was mulling over. “About what?”

Impulse hunched his shoulders up, cringing slightly. “I dunno, y’know… You’re planning your brother’s wedding to your friend while picking out my groceries for me. I’m not even sure how you found out I was grocery shopping or found me in the store. I don’t think that’s normal, healthy person behaviour.” 

“I am so completely normal and healthy!” He said just a bit too loud.

“You know you can talk to me if you need to.”

This was getting nowhere real fast. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Impulse sighed. “I’ll help.”

“Good. Then, what’s the plan?”

In the end, the plan was little more than ‘wait and see’ with a side sprinkling of putting the pair in as much direct contact as possible. This turned out to be much more work than they anticipated, however. Jimmy had always been a socialite, but he seemed to be gone every other day viewing houses or visiting locations. Meanwhile, Tango did as he does and made himself busy constantly. Every group activity Grian planned was lucky to get even one of them, and he was about to lose his damn mind.

Their big break finally showed itself one evening, when Jimmy dropped in with Grian. Well, it was more like Grian promised to drive him to do some errands and made a left turn away from the mall and directly to the ZITS house instead. A decision Jimmy was not familiar enough with the town yet to notice until it was too late. Just the sound of Jimmy’s voice managed to draw Tango upstairs to see what was going on in his kitchen, where the rest of them were chatting.

Immediately the annoying little giggles started up again. If there was one thing in this world that could make Grian try to keep them apart, it was that giggle.

“By the way, Jimmy,” Skizz piped up from where he leaned against the sink. “You still need a lift tomorrow?”

When had Jimmy found time to befriend Skizz? Who knows. Knowing the two of them they probably bumped into each other on the street and kept talking till the sun went down. Extroverts were so exhausting. (He ignored the little Impulse-ish voice nagging that Grian was also something of an extrovert.)

“Yeah, sorry, I appreciate it.”

“Where you going?” Impulse asked.

“Got another house tour.” Tango of all people replied. Maybe that wasn’t all that surprising, though, given the amount Grian has spotted Jimmy texting the past few days.

“Is that so? Will you be going with them?” Grian teased, but instead got a toothy grin back.

“Yessiree!”

Really? Inviting your crush house hunting? Was that forward or just weird? Either way, it was an opportunity. “You know, Tim, you haven’t invited me to go with you.” He whined, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. 

Unfortunately, while Jimmy’s talents were sparse, this was one area where he outranked Grian by a factor of magnitudes and had unlocked absolute immunity, or something. “Yeah. That was on purpose.” He said bluntly, not even looking away from Tango, who laughed. In fact, everyone laughed. Even Impulse, the traitor.

Grian wouldn’t give up so easily, however. “Well I think you should. So where is it?”

“What? You’ll just embarrass me, I’m not telling you!” He squeaked, finally looking at his kind, sweet, dear older brother.

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

And that was how Jimmy ended up in a headlock on ZITS’s kitchen floor, Impulse reluctantly using Jimmy’s phone to text Grian the address on his calendar. Tango, simp that he was, managed to distract Grian by jokingly calling Jimmy honey, forcing Grian to let go in order to pretend to hurl, during which time Jimmy made his escape back to the car. 

He won though, and the next day when Jimmy pulled up with Skizz and Tango to the house tour, Grian and Impulse were already waiting there with the realtor.

“I can’t believe you.” Jimmy dragged his hands down his face. “Don’t you have to, I don’t know, work?”

“Jokes on you, I’m my own boss.” Grian puffed up his chest.

Tango patted Jimmy on the back and turned the both of them towards the poor, confused realtor. “Let’s just get this over with.” He soothed, to which Jimmy gave him a saccharine smile.

The property was ridiculously nice. It wasn’t especially big, but it was lined by woodlands and already had a garden, albeit in need of some severe TLC. There was even an old chicken coop to the side of the house that only needed new fencing and cleaning. The house itself was a one-story cutesy cottage-like thing. It was older, but whomever had lived in it last had the wiring redone and appliances replaced. The bedroom was big, too, as they tended to be in these older houses, and the bathroom had a proper large tub. There was a spare office room with a nice big window to the garden. The garage was separate, and large enough to be a workshop. All that while being well within the range of good internet and still close enough one could walk to town if they really wanted to. 

It was, essentially, Jimmy’s dream home. The only issue Jimmy seemed to have was the fact that the wall between the living room and kitchen had been knocked out for a more modern open concept design with the largest windows in the house.

“It’d probably be a pain to heat in winter, right?” He asked no one in particular. 

Grian knew jack all about houses, and only shrugged. It still wasn’t that big, so he imagined not. Impulse and Skizz seemed to mull the idea over a little longer. Tango, though, saw an opportunity, and Grian had to give him credit because the man took it without hesitation. His arm was around Jimmy’s shoulder, toothy grin leaned in a bit too close. “Well, that sounds like a good excuse to cuddle up in bed all winter, hm?”

Jimmy’s cheeks turned pink. He muttered something under his breath that made Tango chuckle. Grian rolled his eyes towards Impulse, who seemed almost too shocked by his friend’s forwardness to notice.

More questions were asked, things Grian was glad he never had to worry about as a condo guy. Owning a home seemed like so much work, but Jimmy had lists upon lists. Of course, it was Jimmy, and even with lists he forgot certain things. But Tango seemed ready to pick up the slack with his own barrage of inquiries. 

“I think,” Jimmy said, looking at the kitchen with a bit of awe. “I think this might be it, guys.”

“Yeah?” Tango’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. Jimmy nodded.

The realtor stepped up. “There aren’t any other serious inquiries at the moment, I think you have a good chance if you put in the asking price.” Jimmy nodded, and the realtor went off to his car to make a call.

Grian pursed his lips at his brother, though. “Are you sure you can afford that? I know you’ve saved up and all, but it’s still a lot.”

Jimmy beamed though, clearly overwhelmed with excitement. “Of course, you think we would look at houses we can’t afford?”

“I mean if I’m honest kind of, but- wait. We?”

“I’ll have you know, despite the beliefs of certain individuals, my credit score’s top notch.” Tango patted his chest proudly. “And between the two of us we have more than enough savings for the down payment.”

Grian felt the wires in his brain short circuit and reboot. An unholy screech came from his throat. “What!”

Jimmy and Tango both side-eyed each other, their awkward smiles caught between guilty and like they were ready to burst out laughing. “You… Thought I could buy a home on my own?” Jimmy asked, hiccupping in the middle.

Impulse looked just as dumbfounded. “When did you work this out?” His voice came out hoarse.

It was Tango’s turn to be confused, raising an eyebrow. “Um, months ago? I told you, Impy.”

“You said you were thinking about moving out, not buying a house with a stranger!”

“Wait-” Skizz burst out laughing, pointing at Grian and Impulse. “You guys really didn’t know?”

“No, why do you know!”

“Cause I listen to my roommates?”

“Hold on. Months ago?” Grian pushed them out of the way, getting into his brother’s face.

It seemed Tango was no longer able to hold in his laughter, leaning on Jimmy for support while Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “I honestly couldn’t tell if you’d actually forgotten or if this was some bit.” He admitted.

“We’ve been together for almost three years.” Tango wheezed out between cackles.

“Excuse me?” Balked Grian. “Since when? You’ve never met!” His head whipped between the two. How on earth-

A finger twirled absently in the air as Jimmy tried to explain. “Do you remember your Halloween party? The one me and Joel attended, where Tango was dressed up as an imposter?”

“Yeah?” It was the biggest party he’d ever held, how could he forget? His brow creased. “But that doesn’t make any sense, I never got to introduce you two cause you both went… home… early.” Grian’s eyes went wide as the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Tango leaned against Jimmy’s shoulder with a smirk. “There it is.”

“Oh. My god.”

“I told you he doesn’t ever listen to me.” Jimmy groaned.

“You two-”

“Yeah.”

Grian gasp cracked. “Jimmy you slut !”

“ Excuse me? ” Jimmy shouted back in equal amounts of disbelief and anger.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the realtor pause in the entryway, then slowly back out of view once more.

“You heard me!”

“What do you think we did!”

“Well you weren’t enjoying my party, that’s for sure!”

 “Okay, okay, everybody calm down.” Skizz stepped in, pushing Grian towards Impulse, who seemed to hold Grian back on instinct more than anything as he was still lost in shock.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Impulse asked, giving his housemate a look of betrayal. It was returned with concern.

“I did? I swear I did.”

“Dipple Dop, he told us he was busy in call with his partner all the time. He extended his work trips several times.”

“That was Timmy?” He stumbled back, leaning on the counter. “I thought he meant, like, an MMO buddy.”

“Yeah, and you certainly never told me!” Grian huffed, which Jimmy returned.

“I did tell you, but you didn’t listen! Or did you just do that thing like with Scott where you thought I wasn’t aware I was dating the guy I lived with for two months just because I told you we hadn’t-”

“You know what?” Skizz clapped his hands together. “I think we all need to just take a deep breath, okay? Everybody just breathe. In,” He took a deep breath, of which his housemates joined in while the brothers continued to glare at each other. “And out.” They all let out a long sigh.

 A brief silence fell over the group, only interrupted by a nervous knock at the door. The realtor stuck his head in, eyes darting between the group. “Um, Mister Solidarity, Mister Tek, could I speak to you now?”

“Yes, one second.” Jimmy said, voice tight. The pair left to talk outside.

Grian and Impulse went home after that, waiting for the other three to return. They said little, Grian fuming while Impulse stared at his lap like his dog just died. Zed popped in to say he was going out, at which point he was let in on the day’s events and gave them both odd looks. Had they really been the only ones who didn’t know? 

By the time everyone else arrived back at the house they’d pulled themselves together somewhat. Not entirely, but enough to ask questions without shouting.

“So, you’re really leaving?” Impulse asked, voice almost watery. Tango’s posture softened with his smile, and pulled the larger man into a big hug.

“Oh, buddy, I told you I was gonna. I’m a big boy now!”

“Yeah, but… I dunno. We’ve lived together since college. I didn’t think this would actually happen…”

Skizz rubbed his back. “Hey, he ain’t movin’ cross country, he’s just down the road. We’ll see him all the time.”

“Yeah! I promise, Impy, I ain’t going nowhere.”

The three continued to talk among each other, comforting their friend, so Grian left them be. Instead, he turned his attention onto Jimmy, who still looked huffy, with his arms crossed and a glare squarely on Grian.

“I told you.”

“Well, maybe you should have told me better.” Grian turned his nose up as an almost automatic response. Jimmy threw his arms in the air and stomped off to the doorway, and immediately Grian felt the regret. He chased after his little brother. “Wait, Tim. I’m…” A warbled wheeze escaped his throat, straining to get the dreaded word out. “Ssso-…rry... That I didn’t listen.”

The shift was near-instant, disdain laxing into smugness. “There, was that so hard?”

“Immensely.”

“Oh, come off it, you big baby.”

“I just don’t get it.” Grian grabbed his hair. “How did I miss that you two were dating? Why didn’t Tango say something when we invited him to dinner?”

“Well, it probably started with the fact that you introduce me to everyone as Tim and his boyfriend’s name is Jimmy.” He sneered, eyebrow raised.

Well, he had him there. Not that he would ever admit that to his brother’s face. “I still can’t believe you ditched my party to hook up with my friend.”

“Oh my god, we didn’t hook up!” Jimmy threw his head back. “We just went to get Mcdonald’s and watch movies because Tango almost had a panic attack at the number of people you invited and couldn’t breathe.”

“In my defence, I didn’t expect that many people to actually show up.”

“Either way, stop projecting.”

“Wh- excuse me?”

“Tango’s the same as me. I can assure you nothing like that would ever happen.”

Grian pouted. Well, at least they were happy and close by. “Fine, I’ll forgive you if you can get Tango to come to roller derby night.”

“Uh, I don’t have anything I need to be forgiven for, and I’m not going to make Tango do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“But Tim, consider: Tango falling on his butt in the most hideous disco suit.”

That gave Jimmy pause, thinking for a solid moment before a smile stretched behind his hand. “Alright, fine.”

“Yes!” Grian pumped his fist into the air, nearly smacking Impulse in the face as the group joined them.

“What’s going on out here?”

“Nothing.” Both brothers replied, matching smiles immediately getting them suspicious looks. Jimmy pushed past them to grab Tango’s hand and drag him towards the basement. “C’mon, we have to finish planning.”

“Yessir.” Tango saluted with a chuckle. 

As they retreated, Grian shouted after them. “Oh, Tango!”

“Yeah?” Bless his soul, he was too busy giving his partner a doofy look that was wiped away the second he turned to see Grian. He did his best to bore a hole through the man’s skull.

“You better watch your back. I know where you sleep.”

“Well, I’d hope so.” Grian didn’t like that grin. “Be weird if you didn’t know where your brother was.”

And that was how Grian began to plan the death of Tango Tek.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #grian #impulsesv #trafficshipping #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #fanfiction #fanfic #hermitpires #traffic series #alternate universe #modern au #sharing a cupcake

[dancing-with-the-madmen]

The Massive Aggression of Calico Jack, redux

Several kind souls have complained brought it to my attention that my failure to use cut tags is, in fact, not optimal. I don't have any good reason that I don't use cuts - mostly I'm just throwing these thoughts out here so they don't endlessly rattle around my brain. Frankly, I'm endlessly astonished anyone but me can be arsed to bother wading through them at all. So, after a truly epic tantrum thoughtful consideration, I've decided to edit my longer posts to add cuts. If you've already read them, (may endless blessings rain down upon you) there's no new content (vile lies and calumny. I'm going to take this opportunity to fix errors and add a line here or there, but nothing major). Just making it more scroll-friendly. You'll know it when you see the word "redux" in the title. So without further ado...

I’ve been trying for a while to put my finger on exactly what it is about Our Flag Means Death's Calico Jack that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and smother him to death with my own abandoned ecdysis.

I mean, I normally love me a spurned admirer/cock-blocking ex. Romantic comedies have their beats, and there’s obviously no serious danger the love interest will end up with anyone other than their intended, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the machinations. After all, the course of true love never did run smooth, and these bitches are here to rough some shit up for sure. I also love Will Arnett. Hands down favorite recurring character on 30 Rock. The second best Batman after TAS (fight me). I can even cheerfully bear his Reese’s commercials if I must bear commercials at all.

Real-life Calico Jack? One of my v. favorite pirates. He wore floral-printed cotton from India as a fuck you to the British tax man. He had an affair with Anne Bonny and offered to purchase her divorce when her husband found out. The two ran away together into piracy when Bonny’s husband refused to quit her and had her whipped for her infidelity. Mary Read was part of Jack and Anne’s crew, and possibly their lover. We love a hopeless romantic, possibly polyamorous king. 

So what is it about OFMD Calico Jack that makes him so acutely punchable?

I’ve rewatched the episode several times (oh my v. dears, I really hope this write-up is worth it. I am SO BRAVE to subject myself to this), and I think I’ve finally got it. It’s not just that he’s a loud, vulgar, hectoring, drunken jackass of a bird-murderer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have as little patience for his brand of mindless destruction and violence-for-violence-sake as Stede does, but that’s not all.  It’s that he’s also a master of passive aggression.

Jack does the little whisper-y “Sorry! Sorry!” when Stede wants to know what’s with all the cannon fire, but immediately starts grinning like an unrepentant varlet as soon as he drops his hands.

And then accepts Stede’s introductory handshake with clear derision.

When Stede says he wasn’t expecting guests and there’s only two settings at brekkie, Jack doesn’t wait for Stede to sort things out, and he’s already lowering himself into Stede’s chair by the time Stede invites him to take his spot. He then purposefully keeps steering the conversation to topics that exclude Stede from participating, and cuts Stede short when he tries to reign the conversation back.

He insinuates Stede is less of a pirate for being “store bought”

He refuses to get Stede’s name right, even when corrected. Twice.

And is just SO insincere when calling him back.

And, just, the whole pissing contest scene.

But so what? We’ve had other passive aggressive assholes on the show; Badminton with his cracks about Stede’s tiny dick ship, the French captain’s slurs, Gabriel simpering about Jeff the Accountant’s dining manners. I’m not shedding any tears for their respective fates, but none of them made me want to crawl through the screen and sew all their face holes shut. Because Jack isn’t just passive-aggressive (and aggressive-aggressive), he might just be the most savvy reader-of-rooms we see on the show, and purposefully and systematically leverages his passive aggression to manipulate the actions of those around him for the purpose of making Ed and Stede betray their better selves and make them do the work of driving a wedge between themselves.   That was a lot in one sentence.  Let me break it down.

Jack uses passive aggression to achieve one of four goals: to nettle, to undermine, (seemingly paradoxically) to reinforce connections, or to coerce. And, if he can manage to achieve different goals for more than one target with the same attack? So much the better. And he’s frankly just astonishingly good at doing so. Like, I’d admire him for it if it didn’t also make me want to make him swallow all of his own teeth.

The basic gameplan goes thusly (this is not a strictly chronological list, a lot of these tactics take place concurrently and recurrently): Stede is the primary target, so Jack nettles him with passive aggressive comments, which puts him on the back foot and undermines his self-confidence. He reinforces his relationship with Ed in ways that excludes Stede and undermines Stede’s relationship with Ed and Ed’s relationship with Stede. Jack uses coercive tactics with Ed and the crew, which undermines Stede’s relationships with them, isolating and othering Stede, which further tanks his mood, which leads him to self-isolate. When Stede eventually lashes out at Ed for falling for Jack’s bullshit, Ed has no idea what’s got Stede so out-of-sorts; Jack has so carefully lead Ed to making the choices that have alienated Stede that they seem like they were Ed’s ideas in the first place. And if Ed has made the choices to do these things, then they are clearly just a reflection of who he is, which, if Stede is lashing out against them, then Stede is rejecting him. Wedge set and match.

So let’s look at the specifics.

Jack’s interactions with Ed are like a masterclass in neurolinguistic programming for evil. First, he plys Ed with booze from the very start. Just look at the bottle in this shot from right after they blow up the dresser drawer.

That bottle or rum is over half gone, and the sky in the background is the peachy-pink of sunrise. This isn’t the bottle Jack had with him in his dinghy; that one he drained and then threw in the air and tried to shoot before coming aboard the Revenge. Which means that they’ve consumed over half the bottle between just the two of them in a very short amount of time.   Alcohol, of course, is a social lubricant - the physical warmth it produces mimicking the “warm, fuzzy” feeling of true comradery, and, more importantly, decoupling the decision-making process from inhibition (that is to say, Ed isn’t necessarily doing anything he absolutely wouldn’t otherwise do, but he might otherwise think twice).

But it’s more insidious than just having a few drinks with an old friend. Jack specifically gamifies the consumption of alcohol to reinforce the coupling of the feeling of inebriation with the comradery engendered by teamwork and excitement of success in order to encourage Ed to drink more than he necessarily otherwise would. Ed confirms to Stede during his apology that the idea to use the drawers of the armoire for target practice came from Jack, and we saw that a bullseye meant that Jack had to take a drink, but Ed didn’t. Presumably, there would have been some consequence for a “miss”, and it seems likely that it would be Ed has to take a drink and not Jack. In this way, Jack is able to exert a measure of control over how much Ed is drinking (by missing on purpose) while making it look like the responsibility lies with Ed and his skill as a thrower. This pattern of sneakily controlling Ed’s actions while making it seem like Ed is the one who made or is responsible for the decision will pop up again and again during their interactions.

After the apologies for waking Stede, Jack steps into the space where Ed is gesticulating to make himself readily available to be touched, reenforcing the bond between them, but letting Ed be the one to instigate the touching.

At brekkie, he pours rum into Ed’s teacup without asking or being asked while Ed’s attention is diverted by getting food.

Jack’s collaring of the conversation does not just function as a means of making Stede feel excluded, he’s also refreshing and reinforcing the bonds he and Ed forged under adversity. Talking over Stede also demonstrates that what he has to say is more important than anything Stede might contribute.

Note that just before Jack cut him off, Stede had referred to Ed as Blackbeard (“Blackbeard and I met on a ship”). This may be innocently explained away; if you meet a person from a facet of a close friend’s life with which you do not intersect, you might refer to said friend by their given name instead of a nickname that the other person might not know, for the sake of common frame of reference. But this is the opposite of that - referring to a friend by a nickname instead of the given name that you both presumably know. That suggests to me that the seed of the Ed/Blackbeard dichotomy has already been planted in Stede’s mind by the morning’s shenanigans. And when Jack invites Stede back into participating in the conversation by talking about something he knows Stede would find upsetting (the wanton cruelty of Ed purposefully trapping people to be burned alive, couched in what sounds like sincere admiration for his friend’s piratical prowess), Jack has picked up on that distinction and is leaning into it HARD. He WANTS Stede to see Ed as a collection of behaviors he finds palatable, and Blackbeard as a collection of behaviors he finds repulsive, and then coerce Ed into performing those “Blackbeard behaviors” in order to coerce Stede to drive the wedge by rejecting him. Fucking diabolical.

When Jack is calling Stede a “big girl,” or “store-bought,” or purposefully getting his name wrong, he’s not just throwing barbs that play on Stede’s insecurities (and with such harrowing precision, too; calling on the effeminacy for which he was tormented as a child, his body image issues that we’ve also seen him struggle with under the tender mercies of Badminton - both brain-ghost and original flavor - and the authenticity of his claim to piracy, which we’ve seen him confess that he fears he’s ill-qualified to claim to Jim, Oluande, and Ed. I mean,triple bullseye for this fucking guy). He’s also using these public declarations to undermine Stede’s authority in front of his crew, and establish himself as the real authority on things like piracy and masculinity. He further reinforces this idea by withholding the story of how he saved Ed’s life under the guise of false modesty; people never want something more than when they’re told they can’t have it. And what they’re being told they can’t have is the story of how Jack was so amazing that he even managed to save the life of the coolest, most legendary pirate they know. This withholding primes the crew to think even more highly of Jack and hang on his every word.

This puts Jack into a position where he can pressure the crew into things that sound fun at first blush (like diving off the yardarm or having a snowball fight, but with coconuts), but end up hurting more than anything. Of course, within this dynamic, no one wants to admit they aren’t having a good time, or don’t want to do it; to do so would be tantamount to admitting you are less of a man or not a real pirate. So when Stede refuses to participate, or admits his discomfort or disgust with the proceedings, he’s doing Jack’s work for him, and further alienating himself, and solidifying the roles Jack had put into place where Jack is the fun, cool guy, and Stede is the killjoy that no one should listen to.

Stede unwittingly plays right into Jack’s design when he tries to stand up for himself and wrest back a modicum of respect before things get too far out of hand. He’s well-versed in the world of passive aggression, and sees what Jack is doing. He also knows that you can’t call it out because passive aggression comes with a built in cover of plausible deniability gaslighting. So instead, he tries to push back with a little passive aggression of his own, suggesting that a real pirate has a ship and a crew. Sadly, Stede is not nearly so adroit at wielding passive aggression as Jack is. Jack uses the story (and we know that Izzy sent him, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole mutiny thing is just a story; I could even easily read that slight hesitation after Stede asks his question as Jack deciding on what would be the most effective cover story, instead of hesitancy to admit to something shameful) of his crew’s mutiny to casually re-sow the idea of mutiny on the Revenge. It’s played for comedy when the crew starts talking about how they almost mutinied on Stede and probably will again, but you can’t tell me this hasn’t been a major concern for Stede ever since the first episode. So Jack’s not only got the crew trying to buoy his spirits by assuring him that his crew mutinying on his doesn’t mean he’s a bad person; it’s just something that happens! He’s also got them low-key committing to a future mutiny WITHIN EARSHOT OF STEDE.

Additionally, while Stede is well-steeped in the ways of passive aggression, his crew and Ed are not. They are not particularly sophisticated at identifying passive aggression on its own merits as opposed to the reaction it provokes, which can make it look like they don’t care when it’s being leveraged against Stede, undermining his ability to trust they will look out for him. Stede stoically putting up with Jack’s jibes makes them even more difficult to identify as hurtful. Jack’s (fake) emotional reaction to Stede’s sally might make him look momentarily weak, but allows Ed and the crew to unequivocally identify who is in the wrong and react accordingly. By positioning himself as a victim, he villainizes Stede, further undermining Stede’s authority, and placing him in a position where he owes Jack recompense. Thus, Jack is able to manipulate Stede into the trap of Dead Man’s Cove and make it look like it was Stede’s own idea. I mean, the Xanatos Speed Chess of it all.

What’s heartbreaking to me is how Jack’s wedge-driving and othering of Stede is working so well that at this point we start to hear it from other sources. As they approach the island and Stede suggests going for a swim or taking a nature walk, Ed is the one who tells him, “I think with this crowd, I think they want something a little more…” Not Jack would want something more exciting, this crowd. Jack’s exclusionary rhetoric out of Ed’s mouth.

Which is exactly the time Jack decides to up the ante.

I want to take a minute to look at the immediate lead up to yardies, because I think it’s an excellent illustration of how Jack looks like a lumbering boor, but his actions are actually so carefully considered and nuanced. He runs up from behind Stede and Ed and throws his arms around them shouting “Yardies!” literally insinuating himself between them, which interrupts anything that was going on between them, puts them off balance, and focuses the attention on him. Then, when he says “Who’s up for yardies?” he makes eye-contact with Ed - the implicit social expectation being “You, Ed, are up for yardies.” When he turns to Stede, it is to literally laugh in his face. I mean, the absolute cheek.

Until this point, the crew of the Revenge have been passive participants in Jack’s hooliganry. They watched him perform whippies, and got whipped at without encouraging him to do so. They listened to his and Ed’s stories. But now Jack is cashing in on his established expertise of what real pirates do to coerce the crew into taking part in a dangerous stunt. It’s more of the “Blackbeard behavior” dichotomy he started sowing in Stede’s mind at brekkie, but now he’s extending it beyond Ed to the whole crew. He wants Stede to feel like he’s all alone in a sea of idiocy, but he wants him to come to the conclusion on his own by making it seem like Ed and the crew are doing things of which he would disapprove of their own accord.

Once we get to the island, we see the activities take a turn from the careless Jackass-ery of whippies and yardies to the abject cruelty of turtle vs. crab. There’s no saying that Jack organized the fight, but we do see the crew handing him various trinkets to be used in gambling on a winner, which certainly suggests he was the central figure in how the game was established. We also see that, though he has been presenting himself as a drunkard, there’s no bottle in his hand or around him in the sand. There is, however, one in Ed’s hand, who is directly to his side. I can easily see him handing it off so he could handle the gambling stakes, the real intention being to keep Ed readily supplied with booze.

And then we have the pissing contest. Jack’s got Stede literally and metaphorically isolated, and now it’s time to really drive it all home. Every moment of their interaction is designed to drive Stede to distraction; the amount of derision he lays on the phrase “Your good, close buddy,” the insinuation that he and Ed are just alike, and then being as rude and crass as possible. And because he’s read the room - the intimate breakfast for two, Ed’s little touches and the way Stede smiles at them, the way they keep going off together for little chats - of course Jack’s just got to twist the knife and allude to his and Ed’s former sexual history. So now that he’s got Stede primed, it’s time to name the fear: “Maybe you don’t know him at all.”

At this point, Stede is left to wonder: does he? Blackbeard’s reputation preceded him, after all. And he’s been acting so differently since the appearance of one of his oldest friends. It’s not the violence qua violence, per se; Stede is by turns delighted and impressed by the violence he’s seen Ed and his crew employ in the heat of battle in the pursuit of piracy. It’s the cruel and senseless violence that Stede objects to, and that’s exactly the brand that Jack has been peddling, and which Ed has gone along with so enthusiastically. And it’s not JUST the violence; Ed apologizes for Jack when he recognizes Jack has crossed a line in a typically agro way (destroying Stede’s belongings, and insulting Stede to his face), but it never occurs to Stede that his insistence on persevering with quietly aggrieved dignity in the face of Jack’s slights would make it nigh impossible for Ed to identify that Jack has crossed all sorts of other lines, and Stede is hurting because of it. For Stede, it must be frustrating and mystifying why Ed keeps letting his friend get away with his passive aggressive bullshit. Doesn’t he care? 

Is it any wonder that one more failure to notice how Jack has riled him, and one more act of coconut-flavored Jackass-ary is enough to break the dam, and for Stede to spill all that built-up hurt on Ed?  Is it any wonder that Ed is bewildered at where all this is coming from? I’ve talked before about Ed’s tendency to fawn on people, and how, as an emotional chameleon, he would have difficulty identifying when the motivation for his actions is self-directed or externally dictated. Jack has further confounded this distinction by manipulating scenarios to make it seem like participation in all the Jackass-ary he has instigated was voluntary instead of coerced. When Stede says “I don’t like who you are around  this guy” what he means is “I don’t like how this guy is able to manipulate you into acting on your very worst impulses”, but what Ed hears is “I don’t like you”. For who is he, if not the collection of behaviors he chooses to exhibit? And were those choices not entirely his to make? With the rift clearly established, if in its infancy, of course Jack is going to do everything he can to foster its growth. So again, he interrupts Stede, again implicitly signaling that Ed should pay attention to what he says and not Stede. By lobbing the coconut at Ed at that moment, he forestalls any possible clearing of the air between Ed and Stede, and causes Ed to literally turn his back on Stede, in the way Ed feels Stede has emotionally turned his back on him just moments earlier. Jack reinforces this idea of turning his back on Stede again moments later when he says “Don’t go!” and immediately turns Ed around by the shoulders.

I know that I’ve been laying it on a bit thick and prolly sound like the written embodiment of the red string conspiracy meme, but I’m about to get a whole lot worse, and I’m going to ask you to stick with me, oh my v. dears. I think Jack killed Karl on purpose.

I know, I know. It was an accident! He was flailing drunkenly! But was he?

Have we seen him take so much as a single drink since the cannon fire at the beginning of the episode? Even though he’d been drinking earlier, did he not have devastating precision and accuracy when he first demonstrated Whippies - shattering every glass, snapping the cards from the Swede’s fingers, and ball-tapping Ed without permanently maiming him or even splitting the leather of his pants? In fact, while nearly every other crew member on the deck has a bottle in hand, just like on the beach, Jack does not.

Jack knows he has to get Ed off the ship before the British show up, but he can’t just say “Let’s ditch these losers” and expect Ed to agree, especially since he’s spent most of the day roping the crew into his schemes. The most effective way to get Ed to follow is if Jack is rejected for just being himself and doing what he does, just like Ed feels he was earlier by Stede. I think the original plan was to goad Olu into seriously hurting the Swede, the fallout of which would be recriminations that Jack made them do it, and Jack getting aggrieved that he was just trying to show this ungrateful lot how to have a good time, skulking off and leading Ed to follow him and reassure him that he’s really a good guy - how could he have known it would turn out like that? But when Buttons calls a halt to the proceedings and it looks like everyone is going to pack it in, Jack has to think fast. If HE maims a crew mate, that would be a bridge too far, painting him as the bad guy. But Karl? He’s just a bird. And if Jack can get a little revenge on the weird bird guy who made him change his plan, so much the better. AND, as people with far fewer auditory processing issues than I have pointed out, Jack mutters that he expected there to be more feathers. Could the evidence be any more damning?

Of course the whole ship turns on him, and then here’s Stede to order him off, explicitly rejecting him the way he metaphorically rejected Ed. But when even that isn’t enough to get Ed to follow him, Jack pulls out one last, desperate manipulation - the debt of life.

Jack’s tragic flaw is that he can’t turn it off. Once he and Ed are alone, he turns his passive aggressive assault on Ed, pressuring him into drinking the morning away by sarcastically saying he didn’t know he had an audience with the pope when Ed expresses disinterest, and, ultimately, giving up the game when he mentions with casual derision how he’d heard of Ed shaking up with Stede, and then deriding Ed for his failure to spot Jack’s machinations.

Too bad Jack didn’t know that the punishment for passive-aggressive fuckery on this show is death…

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #calico jack

[tastybluesprite]

Snow

Yet another Satosugu fic!!! I’ve been obsessed with them so much lately lollll. It snowed where I live so it inspired this fic. Hope you like it! Also made it so it can be seen as a ship or just casual friends.

Warnings: None aside from tickling and tooth rotting fluff, so if that makes you uncomfortable or it’s not your thing feel free to just keep scrolling.

Summery: Geto finds out what happens when you try and start a snow ball fight with Gojo.

“Suguru! Suguru it snowed!!!” Gojo cried excitedly as he pointed to the window of his friends Jujutsu high dorm room. Geto groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

“Ugh… Satoru do we really have to do this now? Todays a day off and I want to sleep.” Geto mumbled, trying to role over.

“Not today!” Gojo explained. “Suguru Geto you are getting up and getting your tired ass dressed now! I want to go out!” Gojo whined as he tugged at the blanket Geto tried cocooning around himself.

Eventually the black haired teen sighed. “Alright. Fine you win. We’ll go outside.” Geto said in resignation. God Gojo was all too much like a puppy who needed a walk. Geto couldn’t help finding that honestly a little adorable.

Geto kicked Gojo out so he could change, putting his hair up in his usual man bun.

They pulled on their coats and Geto followed an exited Gojo outside.

“Gojo be careful. It’s icy out here.” Geto warned as Gojo hopped along the court yard happily.

“Stop being such a worry wart…” Gojo said trying to assure him as he enjoyed the feeling of walking in the snow.

Geto just stood there enjoyed the feeling of the snowflakes on his face as Gojo started trying to build a snowman.

“Hey Suguru you gonna help me or what?” Gojo asked witha. Grunt as he struggled to roll the now heavy snow ball.

Geto huffed out an exasperated chuckle as he joined him to help push the slowly growing snow ball.

Unfortunately they pushed too hard because the snow ball started to break apart, and due to the force of pushing, they both fell to the ground in the snow.

Satoru was too busy rolling on the floor and laughing at the silly situation as Geto huffed.

“It’s not that funny…” He said with a frown.

Gojo then pointed to Getos face as he kept laughing. “Th-there’s snow all over you…” Gojo managed through his hysterical giggling.

Geto looked down to see snow all over him. He the shot a lighthearted glare, making a smaller snow ball and throwing it at Gojos face.

Gojo was taken by surprise when the ball hit him and his laughter stopped abruptly.

“Oh you little…” Gojo then shot his own playful glare as he made his own snow ball and threw it back to Geto.

Soon it got physical and they were pushing and kicking at one another.

The two grunted and groaned as they landed blows to each other. At one point Gojo accidentally jabbed Getos side, who let out a small shriek and flinched back.

Gojo paused, stunned at what just happened, then slowly smirked.

“What’s this Suguru…? Is somebody ticklish?” Gojo teased, going for another poke.

Geto backed away on the ground, which they were both still on, throwing his arms up In defense.

“N-no… no no no, Satoru don’t you dare!!” Geto protested, his voice sounding more frantic as Gojo got closer.

Gojo was smirking only wider as his fingers wiggled in his face. Soon he jumped up and pounced on him.

“W-wAH! YOU MOTH- AHHahahaahaha!!!” Geto unfortunately was interrupted by high pitched laughter as Gojos hands snuck under his jacket and found his sides. Because his hands were basically trapped under his coat, Geto was pretty much stuck. He squirmed and writhed around on the floor as Gojo towered over him more and more.

“Awe so you are ticklish! That’s adorable!” Gojo cooed as he watched his friend laugh uncontrollably and squirm around.

Soon Gojo made his way up and into his ribs as he massaged his fingers against the sensitive bones. Geto squealed out and his laughter grew.

“G-GohOhoHoHOHOhojohoho!!!!” Geto cried as he tried pushing his friend off him uselessly. “Th-thahahahats COHoHohold!!!”

Gojo only smirked more. “Oh really? Let me warm up my hands then…” he went farther up and stuffed his hands into the quite warm hollows of his armpits.

Geto shrieked as he began squirming more violently.

“GEHEHET OUHUHUT OHOHOF THEHERE!!” Geto screamed out in his laughter in his frantic and desperate struggling.

Gojo kept it up for a bit, tickling wherever he could reach. He then went down to his friends hips, gently kneading them.

Getos laughter became hysterical and soon he was near silently laughing, kicking his legs desperately as he desperately pushed against Gojos hands.

Gojo chuckled and soon stopped, allowing Geto to breathe.

Geto stayed like that on the floor and Gojo burst into more laughter.

Geto just lay back on the ground, panting with exhaustion. His eyes wide with a bit of shock. Geto soon frowned and shot a glare at his white haired friend.

“Geto y-your face is all red!” Gojo cried out while giggling. It was true. Getos face was flushed a bright red color. Wether it was from the laughter or embarrassment who’s to say. Geto would claim it was just the cold.

The back haired teen just rolled his eyes and grinned. “Alright then Satoru. Why don’t we make your face red too? Your my friend so it’s only fair we match…” Geto smirked as he wiggled his fingers slowly.

Gojos eyes widened as he quickly got up and bolted, the two starting a game of chase, with Geto gaining on him.

Soon the two were tumbled the the ground and laughing as Geto lunged at Gojo, his fingers aiming to tickle any spot they could reach. Gojo cackling wilding under him and his arms and legs flying around wildly trying o squirm away and fend off his best friend.

It’s safe to say they had a lot of fun. Geto soon figured maybe the cold wasn’t so bad after all.

Thx for reading ❤️

#sprite🥤 #tickling #tickle fic #tickle fluff #tickle blog #sfw tickling community #sfw tickle fluff #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk gojo #jjk geto #gojo x geto #ticklish!geto #lee!geto #ler!gojo #lee!suguru #ticklish!suguru #ler!satoru #jujutsu kaisen #hidden inventory arc #jjk hidden inventory #jujutsu kaisen tickle #jujutsu Kaisen tickling #jujutsu kaisen fanfic