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#it’s almost funny reading arguments against them bc
ladyelain · 26 days ago
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Ok so idk why I’m this confident in my ship but at this point I don‘t even understand anymore how people believe Elucien wouldn‘t happen. Like are we actually reading the same books?
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vhsrights · a month ago
How bout some aNGSTY jemily with “no matter the cost”? 😭😭😭
IT’S HERE. BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELTS BC THIS SHIT GETS WILD :) [dw there is still a very cute and happy ending :)]
No Matter The Cost
Pairing: Jemily
WC: 2.9k words
Summary: Emily has been on edge for the past week and JJ noticed. They’re enjoying a calm evening in, when she feels the need to bring it up. What’s got Emily so riled up? What if JJ pressed the wrong buttons...
tag list: @altsvu @hotchshoney @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @ssa-jareaus @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @emilyprentissfangirl @hmm-wanky
The sunlight barely made it through the windows and curtains, cast faint glimmers on the women’s faces. The lights in their house were dim and not a single sound was being made. Emily was laid back against the pleather couch’s arm. Her legs were thrown up in front of her, covered by their wool blanket and JJ’s feet. Her eyes skimmed over the words on the page. To be honest, she had lost interest in the book a few minutes back. JJ’s sunkissed look was more intriguing to her at the moment.
JJ sat in the same way as Emily. She was snuggled down, the blanket sitting just below her neck. Her phone was in her hands, AirPods probably playing the sound to whatever Netflix show she was watching. She smirked at her screen and drew Emily’s focus back to her. In the light of dusk, it was hard to ignore her angelic features. Emily thought back to her secret, the smile gracing her face and loosening the tension in her shoulders.
Things had just become final and not telling JJ had made staying silent nearly impossible. I can’t wait to do this forever. She wiped the jovial expression off of her face, knowing that if JJ asked, she would just burst with the news. Reaching over to their coffee table, she grabbed her coffee mug. Bringing it up to her lips, Emily closed her eyes and savored the taste of the tea in her throat. It was relaxing, and JJ’s tea truly was just another reminder of home. Everything about her girlfriend was home, but JJ never failed to amaze Emily with her seemingly boundless talents.
“Why have you been so cold all week? Is something wrong?”
The words broke the pensive silence. JJ’s voice was small against the enveloping quiet, her phone lowered into her lap and AirPods out. It had been the first time that either of them had spoken in the past hour. Both had simply been concentrated on their closeness, content at the moment. JJ’s questions made Emily’s hands tighten around the mug. Not now. Please, not now. Her eyes shut again, tighter this time, trying to hold back the words on the tip of her tongue.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” The words were curt and clipped from Emily, confusing JJ.
“Are you sure everything’s okay? We can talk if something is bothering you.” She tried again, softening her tone this time in hopes to get through to Emily.
“Drop it. I said I’m fine.”
Emily hated the way that things were sounding. She couldn’t help herself. She had planned to tell JJ the news in a special way and spoiling it now would ruin all of her efforts from the past week. Stress had been piled high on her shoulders and sneaking around behind her girlfriend’s back just made it worse on Emily’s nerves. Their day had been calm so far, and the snappy attitude that she had accidentally held during the week had finally disappeared. JJ prying, especially now, was the wrong way to go.
“Okay, now I’m definitely not dropping it. Something is obviously wrong. Come on, spit it out. What’s bothering you?”
JJ had kept a close eye on Emily all week. She had seen her shirk her usual chipper and light mood. There was something that was clearly weighing heavily on her. They had been swamped with cases all week so JJ had just chalked it up to that. But now, having approached the eighth day of her girlfriend’s chilliness, she just couldn’t let it slide. Shifting her eyes over to meet Emily’s, JJ noticed their blankness. Sitting up, JJ focused on her girlfriend. The speed with which Emily had shut her out was alarming. JJ had just opened her mouth to add a follow-up to her question when Emily nearly spat out her next words.
“Jen, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. Now leave it. There is nothing to talk about. Why can’t you just let it go?” Emily’s words crescendoed, ending in a shout. She hadn’t been fully aware of her volume until she heard its echo and noticed the shock on JJ’s face.
JJ was taken aback. She saw a ferocity in her girlfriend’s eyes that had never been aimed at her. She hadn’t even wanted to pressure Emily. However, the events of the past week had taken their toll on her mind. JJ could feel the fight brewing and her heart sank. She let her hands tighten into fists, digging her nails into her palms to ground herself. All of this had stemmed from her curiosity. The blonde hadn’t wanted to disrupt the peace of their afternoon, much less bother Emily to the point of shouting. The two could read each other like books and trusted each other more than anyone else.
So why couldn’t Emily tell her?
“Hey. I just wanted to help you. Do not fucking turn this on me. Why can’t you tell me? Is it something that I shouldn’t know?”
The anger began to bubble up in JJ’s chest. There was no way that she was going to let Emily talk to her like that, girlfriend or not. Thoughts became fuzzy in her head. She watched Emily shoot up out of her seat. JJ threw the blanket off of her, getting ready to stand up too. The ball was in Emily’s court now. Her voice had become sharp in contrast to the soft, amicable conversations they had earlier. It was all downhill from here.
“Why do I need to tell you everything? You’re not my mother.” Emily sneered her words, the phrase as patronizing as she could make it. “You know, funny enough, not everything you do is helpful, JJ.”
The nickname felt like a jab to JJ. Since they had met all those years ago, Emily never used JJ. It was always “Jen, Jennifer, and even Jayje”. The casual tone slapped JJ in the face. Her eyes widened and she set down her phone. Rising from the couch, she fixed her gaze on Emily. Folding her arms tightly in front of her body, JJ’s shoulders locked.
“Oh, like you know what a healthy relationship with your mom looks like. Excuse me for caring about what’s wrong with you. Should I just watch you get worse and worse until you snap? Is that what you want?”
“Don’t you fucking say that. You think I want to feel this shitty? Are you serious? Why can’t you just back off when I ask?”
“What happened to all of those things you preached about finally opening up? Was that just a lie to get me off of your ass? I should have fucking known that the girl that has never understood emotional intimacy isn’t going to just do a 180 for me. I got my hopes up with you.”
“Emotional intimacy? Oh, cheap dig. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you would see that I’m trying so hard to open up to you. But no, there’s that damn need to fix everything. You’re fucking suffocating me with it. I am not your damn project!” Emily closed a portion of the gap between them, fury raging out of her eyes and she continued before JJ could reply.
“You act like you’re all caring, but really it’s because you’re too fucking afraid of not being enough. Grow up. Not everyone needs you in their business. Not everyone needs to be fixed! God damn it, maybe if you had understood that, I wouldn’t have to be so scared about opening up! It’s like no matter what I do, or how much effort I put in, you always want more!”
“More? Try the bare fucking minimum! I have to work so fucking hard just to get anything out of you! It’s not fair that anytime you’re struggling is an uphill battle for me! Maybe, just maybe, if you actually gave a shit for once, we wouldn’t be here. Ever think about that?!”
“Uphill battle for you? Damn, you really are selfish. Maybe that’s why you’re so good at your job. A liaison that is super sweet and caring on the outside, but doesn’t actually give a shit about anyone on the inside. I wouldn’t be surprised. As for giving a shit, of course, I do! Why the hell do you think I walk on eggshells around you half the time? It is so fucking exhausting to have to keep up with you!”
“Keep up with me? I have to pry things out of you just so that I know if you’re okay or hurting? How the hell am I supposed to know if you even want us?! Are we even real to you?”
The distance between the two women had closed up. They stood inches apart, each staring daggers at the other. JJ and Emily’s voices had reached a high volume, echoing loudly off of the walls. The sun had set and the light that had previously illuminated their faces vanished. Words overlapped and the malice got stronger. Words that they would never mean nor say in conscience were spilled. JJ and Emily fell further and further out of it. Their heads spun and their throats burned. Finally, when they stood inches apart, JJ uttered the words that broke the camel’s back.
“You know what, it’s almost like you didn’t ever really love me, and this was all just a game for you. Maybe it’s like a fun pretend game. I stood by your side no matter the cost. This is what I get back?”
Emily froze. Her heart caught in her throat. It felt like she would sink through the floor. Pretend? Didn’t love JJ? Her eyes became unfocused. Her hands shook in their fists at her side. The tears immediately began to run down her face with a renewed fever. Her head screamed at her to apologize. Her lips refused to move.
JJ stood in front of her, hit with the same tidal wave. It was the first time that they had descended into such a grotesque argument. Her brain shut down. She couldn’t dare to look at Emily. JJ knew that the result of every one of her hurtful words would be apparent on Emily’s face. Or worse, it would be blank once more. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around Emily and pull her close, getting her in the tightest hug JJ could give. Her body refused to move. She needed space, and so did Emily. Everything just hurt too much at the moment.
JJ spun on her heel and walked away from Emily. Ironically, she had been the one to accuse her girlfriend of always running away. Here she was, doing exactly that. She was in the bedroom before she could realize where her feet had taken her. JJ slammed the door shut, the sound making JJ and Emily flinch.
Emily had stayed in that trance until the echoing sound of the bedroom door hit her ears. She jumped and reconnected with reality. She felt numb and yet as if every part of her was on fire. JJ. That was the only thing on her mind. Following the sound that had jolted her, Emily went up to the bedroom. Her hand hovered over the doorknob and she hesitated. Not yet.
She sank down against the bedroom door. Her body curled up and she let everything out. The tears, the frustration, and the hurt all came barreling back. Her breath constricted in her throat and she had to take in deep heaves to regain control. Emily loved JJ with every bit of herself. JJ was more to her than the entire universe combined, and everything that she had ever wanted. She ran over her words and harsh actions over and over, beating herself up about every second of it. Knowing what she had downstairs shattered her heart.
Why couldn’t I save her from myself?
JJ was no different. Her small body seemed feeble in that one corner of the room. She tried to disappear into nothing, hoping it could possibly undo the damage she had caused. JJ hadn’t meant a single thing she said. Now, she sat alone with her heart in tatters. She wished and hoped for a universal undo button. One that could take away the moments that she had spent tormenting the one woman she loved in the world more than she could fathom. Their every second was perfect to her, and now she had messed that up.
I’d do anything to make her happy again.
A couple of hours passed and eventually, JJ felt the strength come back into her body. She pulled herself out of her crumpled state against the wall. JJ inched her way to the door and hesitated to pull it open. Was she truly ready for what Emily had to say? It was a question that JJ didn’t have the answer to, but was too impatient to mull over.
Emily was sitting back against the wall and stiffened when she heard the door open. She didn’t have the strength to look JJ in the eyes and face her consequences. Emily saw JJ sink to the floor beside her out of the corner of her eye. JJ spared no words and simply threw herself onto Emily.
The women sobbed against each other for a good few minutes. Intensity of their emotions and the sharpness of the insults that had been given began to fade. JJ and Emily felt like they could breath once more. The blonde was nestled tightly into Emily’s frame and Emily’s arms were wrapped around her protectively.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily was the first to whisper out the two words, her voice still strained from the screaming match. She had to explain herself now. It was now, or losing JJ. The thought of that was too much to bear. She took a few deep breathes, feeling the sting of the air against her raw senses. Clearing her mind, Emily began her explanation.
“I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry for putting you through that. I know that there is no excuse for my behavior, but please let me at least answer your question before you leave. We’d talked about moving in together, and it’s been on my mind for a while now. I know it seems like I didn’t give it much heed, but trust me, I did. It was in my head day and night, because moving in would make with you a forever. And I want that. I truly do. You had already offered and I had turned you down because I wanted to surprise you. This past week I had been doing things to finalize the times, details, and items for my move out of my apartment. I had to hide it from you and so it got really stressful. I want to live with you, Jennifer. So please, before you leave, consider giving us another chance? I love you. I’m not perfect in the slightest, but I will work harder than you’ve ever seen to make things happen. Please?”
JJ took a breath to calm herself and pushed herself further into Emily’s frame. She smiled in the slightest bit, beginning to have a breakthrough.
“I’m not leaving you, not now and not ever. I was an ass too and I’m sorry. I really messed up. You’re just so perfect for me, and I was terrified of losing that. I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself. I should never have said any of the things that I did. They’re just not true. I know how much you’re invested in this relationship. I love you.”
The two went silent after their short confessions. JJ and Emily just needed each other’s comfort at that moment. They regained their sanity, grasping a hold of their surroundings. Moments passed that would forever be engrained in JJ and Emily’s memory.
Time eventually let them continue once more. JJ and Emily ended up in the kitchen. The landline and a menu to chinese takeout was in JJ’s hands. Her hands shook and she felt Emily’s hands envelop her own. They stood there, knowing that the words of the night would never fully leave them. Their hearts hurt but JJ and Emily knew that all it had done was peel back a layer on their love. They would grow get stronger, and healthier, but they would never forget this.
Dinner was filled with hushed apologies, close touch, and reaffirmations from both sides. JJ and Emily did everything in their power to remind the other. Emily made sure to softly press kisses along JJ’s hairline and forehead. JJ repeatedly reminded to Emily that the strides that she had taken in opening up to JJ were marvelous. Lips wandered and hands grew more desparate for physical connection as the night went on. JJ and Emily ended up next to each other in bed that night, but this time, it felt perfect.
They felt the truth of unconditional love, and the resilience of its strength, no matter the cost.
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trainbowrocketmoved · 2 months ago
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hi
so. huh <3. anhway
you know how jessie and james presumably met in poketech, and then was literally never elaborated on after that one single ep in os. yeah<3. even with lack of content, its interesting to think abt considering just how contrasting and clashing their personalities are. how in the hell would they get along, much less end up being best friends and spending the next ambiguous number of years in close proximity. 
(theres a lot of different interpretations of how they met and how exactly they became friends, and its just kinda fun rotate the idea in ones mind. i kinda feel like they became easy friends rather quickly. and if it seems out of character it probably is, but i’m a clown and its much more fun to think of it this way :-). 
i would expand on the thought but i dont even have a clear idea anyway, it’d turn out a mess)@*(-)[[€). anyway, they end up dropping out bc they failed the entrance exam i believe, and for whatever reason they decided to join a bike gang. nobody knows how they found it, why they joined, or what their goal was or even what importance it would have when contributing to the plot, its just a point that never got expanded on ;;.
i know theres obviously like fanfics or something out there that kinda expand on individual peoples own interpretations. i’ve read a few of them, some are rather interesting. i just think some canon content would be neat(@(. 
after that, it gets confusing again because theres an ambiguous time jump in between rocket training and the bike gang, so idk. theres maybe a two or three year jump, just based off of my own conclusions.
 (i’ve kinda talked abt it before in one of my previous essays, but i’ve thought for a long time that the reason they seemed to split for so long was because of some sort of argument, it feels like the most likely possibility all things considered. maybe  something happened and they got real heated and went off on their own for a while. i’m assuming that gap in time is where jessie went off and went to that nursing school and did all those side gigs after she flunked, and. idk what james was doing that whole time, i assume he was out and about doing something similar w the trying and failing to find something that worked for him. obviously nothing worked very well, because they found team rocket somehow. one could assume that meowth was already trying to find a way into team rocket, or at least looking for something along those lines.)
 so jessie joined first, possibly quite a while before james, because of all the partners she’d kinda intimidated out of working with her and whatnot. i think she had around 16-17 previous partners. so this dude who’s supposed to b in charge of training or whatever, i forget his name, comes up to her and tells her she has a new partner. and obviously most would roll their eyes if they were in her place, like... dude. did you seriously not see how i fucked up those other people? is this worth either of our times?
he moves and and james is there, leaning up against the wall smug anime boy style. i feel like jessie would most likely be extremely confused and/or extremely angry, and both for good reason. 
(its funny to me though. because no matter how hard they try they cant seem to stay separated for long, even if to their own dismay. it shows later on as well, they argue and get temporarily split up on multiple occasions but one way or another they just come right back. its nice, i guess :-)..)
then jessie .. kinda rightfully jabs at him w the whole ‘i wont carry you’ jessie esque you’re wasting my time attitude. then he goes on to make a joke abt the last person who carried him was his mum, which is a little wweird and the presentation was oddly. flirtatious. the whole thing is just a little odd. whatever happens and yadda yadda they meet meowth, and i dont actually remember if they had much of a reaction to the fact that like. this cat can talk. like a person. i guess they already had so much happening that a talking walking cat just isnt all that peculiar. our lives are already weird enough, right 
then something something abt a training exercise, i guess you had to get somewhere within two days or whatever. 
aaand meowth exhausts his supply of food almost immediately and then james gives him some of his own stuff. they continued the rest of that day and both james and meowth were hungry by nighttime. jessie gave them some of her stuff. something abt showing just a little glimpse of the fact that she cares and that its a really big step or something, i would get really into it but you’ve heard it before )#(:. she did some sorta i’m only doing this because i cant have you ppl dying thing, but thats just how she does things. she has a hard time expressing what she’s really feeling through words, so she uses gifts and small gestures that may seem harsh or even so small that those things are unimportant to outsiders. its how one could potentially read between her lines.  
or whatever, i’ve already spelled out the entirety of this episode many times over )#*)#’=. moving on, i wanted to touch on their relationship in training daze. all three of them. 
jessie in particular interests me here, because she’e not the way she usually is,, and while thats not saying much considering the fact that the otheres werent either, i feel like its just. so drastic a change. she might be more outwardly angry in later times, but theres just a huge difference, as with them all. they’re more comfortable with eachother, and there just wasnt that same bond in training daze, but i think its. good. its set before the events you see in the anime,
 (at the time of meeting ash i’ve kinda just guessed that they’ve been in team rocket for 4-5 years. theres no clear indication of how much time has passed except for the fact that they’re louder and goofier and more comfortable. i guess theres also the factor of their ages, which is already a well worn topic of discussion. since they’re obviously adults, ones in their early / mid twenties, they could have been like 18 at the time of training daze. i dont rlly think they could be any younger than 17 because they still look like. grown people. and i dont think team rocket would allow people younger than that to join in the first place.  thats just my personal headcanon / theory or whatever) 
so there’d be differences in the way they acted toward eachother and the way that they communicate, and there very much is. they can communicate very easily without using words, especially through body motions or even just eye contact. the three of them can and will do things in perfect sync, even if it wasnt  planned beforehand. and theres no words required, they’re just on the same wavelength or something. they’re very interesting though because the way that they fight and disagree seems to say otherwise, and while it may be because they’re just different people, its also because they know the other(s) so well that its easy to argue. its easy to get upset over things because either they know that what they did was stupid / wrong / mean or whatever, or they know that the  other will forgive them anyway. 
team rocket as an organization has so strong of a hold on them that they truly believe that their lives would crumble apart if they didnt have that looming presence,, they’re plenty capable enough to be totally independent and successful for themselves, and while they may be kinda stupid,  they’re extremely determined, and nothing will stop them from getting to their dreams. but heres the problem, team rocket has so much control over them that they dont truly have any feasible goals outside of pleasing their boss. pikachu is their main target, but what happens when they cant get it? what happens if giovanni finally decides that they’re truly useless and fires them. how would they handle it? what would they do then?. i believe that they WOULD be ok without team rocket, more than good. considering the amount of torment the organization has put them through and the amount of brainwashing that they’ve been subjected to, they would be so much better without it. theres a problem with that though, because like. they obviously have so much history with team rocket and harbor rather complicated feelings towards the organization, so it would be ... hard. jessie james and meowth are .. just like that. they are their own people. they arent just team rocket. they’re so much more than that. and i think that’s something that they themselves have to understand at some point,, . they stay in team rocket because of the ‘maybe’s. because of the ‘what if’s. and because of sentiment, i guess. and its just hurting them. its not doing them any good at all. they’re being controlled by bad people who dont give a SHIT about them, and they’re totally oblivious to how shitty they’ve been treated. and they’ve never even known better in the first place
jessie in particular i could see having a harder time leaving team rocket behind. due to her mother being a tr agent herself, and the fact that she’s extremely stubborn and determined to succeed no matter what. however, if they are to quit, and if that is the path pokeani wants to take them, she and the others needs to push past whatever obligation they think they have, or whatever favor they think they owe. they rlly dont owe anything. they’ve been pressed into believing they do, that they’ll never be successful without team rocket, that they’re failures if they dont do precisely what it asks of them. and its not true anyway, they’re just so wrapped up in this web of lies and manipulation that they cant see any other way but to appeal to the people at the top. 
then comes the question of if they did quit, what else are they to do?. what else would they have? james would never go back to his parents willingly, jessie has pretty much literally nobody outside of her friends to turn to, and meowth much the same. like,, no job, no home, no money, nothing to lean back on in times of need, nothing to actually focus on and cope with if they’re outta the job. 
its sad thinking about the worst case scenario. because they’re all so strong and vibrant and passionate people who barrel through every hardship and setback with pure determined grit, and to have their spirits be popped like a balloon,,, <3. big yikes. they’re not ones to just give up on a whim, but considering the fact that they’re putting all their eggs in one basket with the whole catching pikachu idea,,, :%). no good at all. i dont think its worth mulling over until / if it ever happens, i just hope that pokeani isnt so mean as to make them suffer too much, but we’ll see. whatever they do, i’ll probably cry about when it happens. it would be a good transition into finding something better, and realizing that mulling will not do them any good, and rising above the pain that they’ve gone through in order to finally just. brush it off, and learn to actually cope with the burns. to just take a deep breath and start over from the very beginning again. they’re the type of people who could do it, they’re extremely determined and bull headed enough that they would be ok if they had to start over. and thus, team rocket redemption arc. 
they’re people. (fictional ones of course, but since i rely too heavily on people who dont exist to help me with my many many problems that are too huge and intimidating to get through by myself, we’re here. i’m way over analyzing these funny cartoon villains to cope with my issues.)
and frankly,, i like it when they’re treated like people, like when their role is important and when they show weakness and like. and when they’re left to simply live their lives and have a little fun, as with rlly any character. 
i think about lucario and the mystery of mew when i get into this subject. i may have a huge bias for it bc its one of my favorite movies, but it still contributes to my point. the scene where jessie and james were dancing, when james brings up the fact that they could try and use that time to snag a couple of pokemon. 
jessie is like nope <3. we’re dancing. i think about it constantly because.. i like those moments a lot. its less to do with the scene itself and more to do with the writing and how i think there should be more of it. its ,, idk. its a human reaction, however boring and small it seems, its a response. we could do that if  for our jobs, but wouldnt you rather relax now? 
meowth was doing that anyway, just. eating and doing whatever a cat does. 
rlly i just want them to have a damn break for once, and letting that sorta thing happen more often would be nice :#). 
ppl are just odd. we procrastinate and forget and waste time and ignore responsibility sometimes and make sloppy mistakes and hurt ourselves all the time and play around and get messy and stick our tongues out at the rules, and pokemon in general could be.. a little more fun if they leaned into that sorta idea more.,, especially since the protags / companions are kids, they should be allowed to be silly and messy. so i just think they should let the adults do that too, is the point ;#([£]. 
theres also a point to be made about the trio’s bond in the movies in general. like in jirachi wish maker, they said “If I could only have one wish, it would be to always feel like this”, in regards to everything returning to normal and riding off of the victory high. they’re all together and they’re ok, and they’re happy that they’re living to see another victory, even if it wasnt directly their own. 
in both lucario and the mystery of mew AND volcanion and the mechanical marvel, their own side plot? for the most part, is to chase after meowth and get him back. because in one he got basically kidnapped and used as a translator by some dude and in the other he just got stuck with other pokemon who kinda unwillingly gave him no choice 
they didnt ever truly try to do much harm in the movies? and even if they did, it was obviously easily foiled, but the point is that for the most part they were just doing their thing i guess :-)
it brings up the idea that specifically with jessie and james’ determination to save meowth, like. they care about him. i know its just, y’know,, obvious because they’re friends and partners and the three of them wouldnt have spent so long together if they DIDNT like and care about eachother, i just think its really.. nice. they acted without second thoughts, they werent shown to hesitate whatsoever, they just went OH SHIT!? and went to action immediately. theres something to be said about their loyalty, because they’re very persistent with the way that they care about and love things i think. they wouldnt do that for just anybody. that side of them is rare but its there, and when the times that it comes through is the times that make people understand just how multilayered their characters are.
i’m definitely biased, but thats apart of the reason i care so much about them. they care in silent ways, and it shows so well when it comes to those moments where they immediately jump into action to save a friend like that. like i said, they wouldnt do that for just anybody. jessie and james wouldn’t do anything that quickly or without hesitation for anybody other than meowth or their pokemon. idk, i guess it’s just something that i dont see being talked about often and i think its interesting :-)... i’m not one to super analyze characters or dynamics or whatever, but team rocket just makes my brain go OUHGAGHORHGHOUGH, y’know?
i’m sure theres more posts out there digging way deeper into that dynamic than i ever could tbh (without being totally incomprehensible about it, anyway)
it leads me to think abt like how they left their pokemon in alola. i only ever watched like 3/4 of sun and moon and i rlly should get through it all one of these days, i adore sun and moon, and tr are pretty neat there too.
ne way, abt that,, i know its such a common topic of discussion and also a big reason why people tend to like team rocket so much, but its just,,, they care about their pokemon. so much so that they would risk their lives and attack a huge as fuck really mad tyranitar with their bare hands just to save arbok and weezing. like when they would jump in front of attacks to protect them and fuss over them after they would get hurt, and how their fucking tears were what made arbok and weezing evolve in the first place. 
the only real information we have about the way they got ekans and koffing was in the giant island pokemon episode. like james mentioned koffing was a gift from the boss and jessie says ekans was a gift for her birthday. its neat.... i just love their relationship with them. its why a poached ego hurts to watch, its just. desperate
they’re jumping at the equivalent of a really pissed off huge dinosaur just to prevent their friends and the other ekans and koffings from being captured again. they tried until they barely had enough strength to hold onto the hunters legs, and they tried. so hard. and its just so admirable, and it makes sense why it would mean so much to fans, and why people end up liking tr in the first place.
things i think people need to keep in mind: they’re villains, they have done and will do bad things. they’re not exactly angels, not exactly perfect people. and thats ok. however, even though they are thieves and villains, they have hearts and are generally very likeable despite their villainy, which is just good writing i guess. either people think they’re really annoying, or people love them and i’ve yet to find an in between. which may or may not have been the goal, now that i think about it. they’re morally ambiguous and a little too persistent with their seemingly one goal, so it makes sense. 
i like headcanons, i’m gonna talk abt them :-)
i enjoy the headcanon that meowth is better at cooking than both jessie and james combined, but the idea that wobbs is better than all of them is fucking hilarious. they wouldnt realize at first because he doesn’t exactly have hands but if you help him he’s literally an amazing cook, and its so much better if they find this out by accident, like he literally just needs help with grabbing stuff, he can do the rest and its very impressive for whats the equivalent to a sentient blue blob.
jessie and james can drive, but jessie is way too reckless and james just barely drives in a legal manner. it’s enough to get them places if they had a car on hand, so it doesnt concern them too much. meowth and wobbuffet either dont care, or just dont know how to drive anyway. probably both. they are pokemon, and dont have much use for the skill to drive in the first place. it’d be funny though
meowth can fly the hot air balloon though, they’ve all had to learn because of the years of probably having to take watch shifts to control the balloon, if they dont land first before sleeping. they’ve probably had to sleep in the balloon at least a couple times, but in the show they’re mostly shown on the ground.
and where exactly did they even find the meowth balloon? did they make it themselves? i feel like it’d be plausible, they’re rather resourceful and i wouldnt underestimate them. they can build entire ass mechas with what appears to be little to nothing, they can do a lot with very little.
from what i know, only jessie and james have canon favorite foods. i think jessie’s was those soy sauce faux rice balls made out of snow, and james’ favorite fruit is pineapple. i honestly dont know why i remember that, it was only mentioned like twice, and i’m not even 100% sure. the only times i remember either of these being mentioned was in two episodes: the one where they were in an igloo and they were really cold, it might have been that episode when jessie mentioned something abt it. and throwing the track switch or the episode before that, when they said something abt james being too sad to eat, and that he would normally never turn it down. he’d lost his cacnea by this point as well. 
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art-nyc · 2 months ago
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Euripides, along was Sophocles and Aeschylus, is responsible for the great rise of Greek tragedy. It was in the 5th Century BC, during the height of Greece's cultural bloom, that Euripides lived and worked. Of his roughly ninety-two plays, only seventeen tragedies survive. Both ridiculed and lauded during his life, Euripides now stands as an innovator of the Greek drama. His play "Alcestis" was awarded second place upon its debut in 438 at the Festival Dionysia, the litmus test and judging grounds for Greek tragedy of the day. "Alcestis", the oldest of his extant plays, examines love, death, and marriage. The play follows Apollo, Admetus, and Heracles as they struggle to save Admetus' beloved wife Princess Alcestis from thanatos (death) in Hades. The play is now considered a problem play due to its difficult categorization between tragedy and comedy. "Alcestis" continues to stir debate and discussion and remains one of Euripides most fascinating works.
THE ALCESTIS OF EURIPIDES
INTRODUCTION The Alcestis would hardly confirm its author's right to be acclaimed "the most tragic of the poets." It is doubtful whether one can call it a tragedy at all. Yet it remains one of the most characteristic and delightful of Euripidean dramas, as well as, by modern standards, the most easily actable. And I notice that many judges who display nothing but a fierce satisfaction in sending other plays of that author to the block or the treadmill, show a certain human weakness in sentencing the gentle daughter of Pelias. The play has been interpreted in many different ways. There is the old unsophisticated view, well set forth in Paley's preface of 1872. He regards the Alcestis simply as a triumph of pathos, especially of "that peculiar sort of pathos which comes most home to us, with our views and partialities for domestic life…. As for the characters, that of Alcestis must be acknowledged to be pre-eminently beautiful. One could almost imagine that Euripides had not yet conceived that bad opinion of the sex which so many of the subsequent dramas exhibit…. But the rest are hardly well-drawn, or, at least, pleasingly portrayed." "The poet might perhaps, had he pleased, have exhibited Admetus in a more amiable point of view." This criticism is not very trenchant, but its weakness is due, I think, more to timidity of statement than to lack of perception. Paley does see that a character may be "well-drawn" without necessarily being "pleasing"; and even that he may be eminently pleasing as a part of the play while very displeasing in himself. He sees that Euripides may have had his own reasons for not making Admetus an ideal husband. It seems odd that such points should need mentioning; but Greek drama has always suffered from a school of critics who approach a play with a greater equipment of aesthetic theory than of dramatic perception. This is the characteristic defect of classicism. One mark of the school is to demand from dramatists heroes and heroines which shall satisfy its own ideals; and, though there was in the New Comedy a mask known to Pollux as "The Entirely-good Young Man" ([Greek: panchraestos neaniskos]), such a character is fortunately unknown to classical Greek drama. The influence of this "classicist" tradition has led to a timid and unsatisfying treatment of the Alcestis, in which many of the most striking and unconventional features of the whole composition were either ignored or smoothed away. As a natural result, various lively-minded readers proceeded to overemphasize these particular features, and were carried into eccentricity or paradox. Alfred Schöne, for instance, fixing his attention on just those points which the conventional critic passed over, decides simply that the Alcestis is a parody, and finds it very funny. (Die Alkestis von Euripides, Kiel, 1895.) I will not dwell on other criticisms of this type. There are those who have taken the play for a criticism of contemporary politics or the current law of inheritance. Above all there is the late Dr. Verrall's famous essay in Euripides the Rationalist, explaining it as a psychological criticism of a supposed Delphic miracle, and arguing that Alcestis in the play does not rise from the dead at all. She had never really died; she only had a sort of nervous catalepsy induced by all the "suggestion" of death by which she was surrounded. Now Dr. Verrall's work, as always, stands apart. Even if wrong, it has its own excellence, its special insight and its extraordinary awakening power. But in general the effect of reading many criticisms on the Alcestis is to make a scholar realize that, for all the seeming simplicity of the play, competent Grecians have been strangely bewildered by it, and that after all there is no great reason to suppose that he himself is more sensible than his neighbours. This is depressing. None the less I cannot really believe that, if we make patient use of our available knowledge, the Alcestis presents any startling enigma. In the first place, it has long been known from the remnants of the ancient Didascalia, or official notice of production, that the Alcestis was produced as the fourth play of a series; that is, it took the place of a Satyr-play. It is what we may call Pro-satyric. (See the present writer's introduction to the Rhesus.) And we should note for what it is worth the observation in the ancient Greek argument: "The play is somewhat satyr-like ([Greek: saturiphkoteron]). It ends in rejoicing and gladness against the tragic convention." Now we are of late years beginning to understand much better what a Satyr-play was. Satyrs have, of course, nothing to do with satire, either etymologically or otherwise. Satyrs are the attendant daemons who form the Kômos, or revel rout, of Dionysus. They are represented in divers fantastic forms, the human or divine being mixed with that of some animal, especially the horse or wild goat. Like Dionysus himself, they are connected in ancient religion with the Renewal of the Earth in spring and the resurrection of the dead, a point which students of the Alcestis may well remember. But in general they represent mere joyous creatures of nature, unthwarted by law and unchecked by self-control. Two notes are especially struck by them: the passions and the absurdity of half-drunken revellers, and the joy and mystery of the wild things in the forest. The rule was that after three tragedies proper there came a play, still in tragic diction, with a traditional saga plot and heroic characters, in which the Chorus was formed by these Satyrs. There was a deliberate clash, an effect of burlesque; but of course the clash must not be too brutal. Certain characters of the heroic saga are, so to speak, at home with Satyrs and others are not. To take our extant specimens of Satyr-plays, for instance: in the Cyclops we have Odysseus, the heroic trickster; in the fragmentary Ichneutae of Sophocles we have the Nymph Cyllene, hiding the baby Hermes from the chorus by the most barefaced and pleasant lying; later no doubt there was an entrance of the infant thief himself. Autolycus, Sisyphus, Thersites are all Satyr-play heroes and congenial to the Satyr atmosphere; but the most congenial of all, the one hero who existed always in an atmosphere of Satyrs and the Kômos until Euripides made him the central figure of a tragedy, was Heracles. [Footnote: The character of Heracles in connexion with the Kômos, already indicated by Wilamowitz and Dieterich (Herakles, pp. 98, ff.; Pulcinella, pp. 63, ff.), has been illuminatingly developed in an unpublished monograph by Mr. J.A.K. Thomson, of Aberdeen.] The complete Satyr-play had a hero of this type and a Chorus of Satyrs. But the complete type was refined away during the fifth century; and one stage in the process produced a play with a normal chorus but with one figure of the Satyric or "revelling" type. One might almost say the "comic" type if, for the moment, we may remember that that word is directly derived from 'Kômos.' The Alcestis is a very clear instance of this Pro-satyric class of play. It has the regular tragic diction, marked here and there (393, 756, 780, etc.) by slight extravagances and forms of words which are sometimes epic and sometimes over-colloquial; it has a regular saga plot, which had already been treated by the old poet Phrynichus in his Alcestis, a play which is now lost but seems to have been Satyric; and it has one character straight from the Satyr world, the heroic reveller, Heracles. It is all in keeping that he should arrive tired, should feast and drink and sing; should be suddenly sobered and should go forth to battle with Death. It is also in keeping that the contest should have a half-grotesque and half-ghastly touch, the grapple amid the graves and the cracking ribs. * * * * * So much for the traditional form. As for the subject, Euripides received it from Phrynichus, and doubtless from other sources. We cannot be sure of the exact form of the story in Phrynichus. But apparently it told how Admetus, King of Pherae in Thessaly, received from Apollo a special privilege which the God had obtained, in true Satyric style, by making the Three Fates drunk and cajoling them. This was that, when his appointed time for death came, he might escape if he could find some volunteer to die for him. His father and mother, from whom the service might have been expected, refused to perform it. His wife, Alcestis, though no blood relation, handsomely undertook it and died. But it so happened that Admetus had entertained in his house the demi-god, Heracles; and when Heracles heard what had happened, he went out and wrestled with Death, conquered him, and brought Alcestis home. Given this form and this story, the next question is: What did Euripides make of them? The general answer is clear: he has applied his usual method. He accepts the story as given in the tradition, and then represents it in his own way. When the tradition in question is really heroic, we know what his way is. He preserves, and even emphasizes, the stateliness and formality of the Attic stage conventions; but, in the meantime, he has subjected the story and its characters to a keener study and a more sensitive psychological judgment than the simple things were originally meant to bear. So that many characters which passed as heroic, or at least presentable, in the kindly remoteness of legend, reveal some strange weakness when brought suddenly into the light. When the tradition is Satyric, as here, the same process produces almost an opposite effect. It is somewhat as though the main plot of a gross and jolly farce were pondered over and made more true to human character till it emerged as a refined and rather pathetic comedy. The making drunk of the Three Grey Sisters disappears; one can only just see the trace of its having once been present. The revelling of Heracles is touched in with the lightest of hands; it is little more than symbolic. And all the figures in the story, instead of being left broadly comic or having their psychology neglected, are treated delicately, sympathetically, with just that faint touch of satire, or at least of amusement, which is almost inseparable from a close interest in character. What was Admetus really like, this gallant prince who had won the affection of such great guests as Apollo and Heracles, and yet went round asking other people to die for him; who, in particular, accepted his wife's monstrous sacrifice with satisfaction and gratitude? The play portrays him well. Generous, innocent, artistic, affectionate, eloquent, impulsive, a good deal spoilt, unconsciously insincere, and no doubt fundamentally selfish, he hates the thought of dying and he hates losing his wife almost as much. Why need she die? Why could it not have been some one less important to him? He feels with emotion what a beautiful act it would have been for his old father. "My boy, you have a long and happy life before you, and for me the sands are well-nigh run out. Do not seek to dissuade me. I will die for you." Admetus could compose the speech for him. A touching scene, a noble farewell, and all the dreadful trouble solved—so conveniently solved! And the miserable self-blinded old man could not see it! Euripides seems to have taken positive pleasure in Admetus, much as Meredith did in his famous Egoist; but Euripides all through is kinder to his victim than Meredith is. True, Admetus is put to obvious shame, publicly and helplessly. The Chorus make discreet comments upon him. The Handmaid is outspoken about him. One feels that Alcestis herself, for all her tender kindness, has seen through him. Finally, to make things quite clear, his old father fights him openly, tells him home-truth upon home-truth, tears away all his protective screens, and leaves him with his self-respect in tatters. It is a fearful ordeal for Admetus, and, after his first fury, he takes it well. He comes back from his wife's burial a changed man. He says not much, but enough. "I have done wrong. I have only now learnt my lesson. I imagined I could save my happy life by forfeiting my honour; and the result is that I have lost both." I think that a careful reading of the play will show an almost continuous process of self-discovery and self-judgment in the mind of Admetus. He was a man who blinded himself with words and beautiful sentiments; but he was not thick-skinned or thick-witted. He was not a brute or a cynic. And I think he did learn his lesson … not completely and for ever, but as well as most of us learn such lessons. The beauty of Alcestis is quite untouched by the dramatist's keener analysis. The strong light only increases its effect. Yet she is not by any means a mere blameless ideal heroine; and the character which Euripides gives her makes an admirable foil to that of Admetus. Where he is passionate and romantic, she is simple and homely. While he is still refusing to admit the facts and beseeching her not to "desert" him, she in a gentle but businesslike way makes him promise to take care of the children and, above all things, not to marry again. She could not possibly trust Admetus's choice. She is sure that the step-mother would be unkind to the children. She might be a horror and beat them (l. 307). And when Admetus has made a thrilling answer about eternal sorrow, and the silencing of lyre and lute, and the statue who shall be his only bride, Alcestis earnestly calls the attention of witnesses to the fact that he has sworn not to marry again. She is not an artist like Admetus. There is poetry in her, because poetry comes unconsciously out of deep feeling, but there is no artistic eloquence. Her love, too, is quite different from his. To him, his love for his wife and children is a beautiful thing, a subject to speak and sing about as well as an emotion to feel. But her love is hardly conscious. She does not talk about it at all. She is merely wrapped up in the welfare of certain people, first her husband and then he children. To a modern romantic reader her insistence that her husband shall not marry again seems hardly delicate. But she does not think about romance or delicacy. To her any neglect to ensure due protection for the children would be as unnatural as to refuse to die for her husband. Indeed, Professor J.L. Myres has suggested that care for the children's future is the guiding motive of her whole conduct. There was first the danger of their being left fatherless, a dire calamity in the heroic age. She could meet that danger by dying herself. Then followed the danger of a stepmother. She meets that by making Admetus swear never to marry. In the long run, I fancy, the effect of gracious loveliness which Alcestis certainly makes is not so much due to any words of her own as to what the Handmaid and the Serving Man say about her. In the final scene she is silent; necessarily and rightly silent, for all tradition knows that those new-risen from the dead must not speak. It will need a long rite de passage before she can freely commune with this world again. It is a strange and daring scene between the three of them; the humbled and broken-hearted husband; the triumphant Heracles, kindly and wise, yet still touched by the mocking and blustrous atmosphere from which he sprang; and the silent woman who has seen the other side of the grave. It was always her way to know things but not to speak of them. The other characters fall easily into their niches. We have only to remember the old Satyric tradition and to look at them in the light of their historical development. Heracles indeed, half-way on his road from the roaring reveller of the Satyr-play to the suffering and erring deliverer of tragedy, is a little foreign to our notions, but quite intelligible and strangely attractive. The same historical method seems to me to solve most of the difficulties which have been felt about Admetus's hospitality. Heracles arrives at the castle just at the moment when Alcestis is lying dead in her room; Admetus conceals the death from him and insists on his coming in and enjoying himself. What are we to think of this behaviour? Is it magnificent hospitality, or is it gross want of tact? The answer, I think, is indicated above. In the uncritical and boisterous atmosphere of the Satyr-play it was natural hospitality, not especially laudable or surprising. From the analogy of similar stories I suspect that Admetus originally did not know his guest, and received not so much the reward of exceptional virtue as the blessing naturally due to those who entertain angels unawares. If we insist on asking whether Euripides himself, in real life or in a play of his own free invention, would have considered Admetus's conduct to Heracles entirely praiseworthy, the answer will certainly be No, but it will have little bearing on the play. In the Alcestis, as it stands, the famous act of hospitality is a datum of the story. Its claims are admitted on the strength of the tradition. It was the act for which Admetus was specially and marvellously rewarded; therefore, obviously, it was an act of exceptional merit and piety. Yet the admission is made with a smile, and more than one suggestion is allowed to float across the scene that in real life such conduct would be hardly wise. Heracles, who rose to tragic rank from a very homely cycle of myth, was apt to bring other homely characters with him. He was a great killer not only of malefactors but of "kêres" or bogeys, such as "Old Age" and "Ague" and the sort of "Death" that we find in this play. Thanatos is not a god, not at all a King of Terrors. One may compare him with the dancing skeleton who is called Death in mediaeval writings. When such a figure appears on the tragic stage one asks at once what relation he bears to Hades, the great Olympian king of the unseen. The answer is obvious. Thanatos is the servant of Hades, a "priest" or sacrificer, who is sent to fetch the appointed victims. The other characters speak for themselves. Certainly Pheres can be trusted to do so, though we must remember that we see him at an unfortunate moment. The aged monarch is not at his best, except perhaps in mere fighting power. I doubt if he was really as cynical as he here professes to be.
* * * * * In the above criticisms I feel that I may have done what critics are so apt to do. I have dwelt on questions of intellectual interest and perhaps thereby diverted attention from that quality in the play which is the most important as well as by far the hardest to convey; I mean the sheer beauty and delightfulness of the writing. It is the earliest dated play of Euripides which has come down to us. True, he was over forty when he produced it, but it is noticeably different from the works of his old age. The numbers are smoother, the thought less deeply scarred, the language more charming and less passionate. If it be true that poetry is bred out of joy and sorrow, one feels as if more enjoyment and less suffering had gone to the making of the Alcestis than to that of the later plays.
ALCESTIS CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY ADMÊTUS, King of Pherae in Thessaly. ALCESTIS, daughter of Pelias, his wife. PHERÊS, his father, formerly King but now in retirement. TWO CHILDREN, his son and daughter. A MANSERVANT in his house. A HANDMAID. The Hero HERACLES. The God APOLLO. THANÁTOS or DEATH. CHORUS, consisting of Elders of Pherae. "The play was first performed when Glaukînos was Archon, in the 2nd year of the 85th Olympiad (438 B.C.). Sophocles was first, Euripides second with the Cretan Women, Alcmaeon in Psophis, Telephus and Alcestis…. The play is somewhat Satyric in character."
ALCESTIS The scene represents the historical Castle of ADMETUS near Pherae in Thessaly. It is the dusk earlier than sunrise; APOLLO, radiant within the darkness, appears on the Castle. APOLLO.
Editorial Reviews 
From Library Journal This new verse translation and adaptation of Euripides' earliest surviving classic, Alcestis (438 B.C.E.), was British Poet Laureate Hughes's last translation before his death in 1998. Ironically, the character Death plays a prominent part in the drama. In order to let her husband, King Admetos, live, queen Alcestis gives up her young life in a bargain arranged by Apollo with Death. The tragic outcome is thwarted when Heracles visits the palace without knowing of Alcestis's death. After learning of Admetos's bereavement, Heracles, in gratitude, decides to rescue Alcestis from Death in a wrestling match. His success reunites the royal couple. Richard Aldington's earlier prose translation (1930), in four acts with short scenes, contains detailed stage directions; this new adaptation is easier to read. Hughes's poetic style is full of beauty and pathos. Highly recommended for both public and academic libraries. -Ming-ming Shen Kuo, Ball State Univ. Lib., Muncie, IN Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From Booklist The drama developed out of religious ritual, and many early dramatic masterpieces feature gods and their doings, none more than Euripides' plays, among which Alcestis is a rarity, a tragedy reversed. It begins in tears. Good King Admetos loses Queen Alcestis because she agreed to die in his stead. Even Admetos' patron deity Apollo cannot thwart that force greater than gods, Death. But the demigod Heracles, whom Admetos hosts despite his grief, can and, once he learns who has died, does by wrestling Death until it surrenders Alcestis. With typical Euripidean irony, a superman triumphs where a god fails. The late British poet laureate Ted Hughes adapted the Greek original substantially, greatly expanding Heracles' drunken boasting about his labors, in particular, to point up humanity's heroic capacities and wrench the play's mood from mourning to celebration. He created a richly stageworthy new version that, as a work about a man whose wife dies by a man whose wife (U.S. poet Sylvia Plath) famously died, also provokes biocritical speculation. What is Hughes saying through Alcestis? Ray Olson --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
You seriously haven’t read Alcestis? Honey, before you marry him, read it, and ask yourself some hard questions. It’ll take you an hour now. Might save you quite a bit of grief later
Jim Kornell  I read Carson's translation, then Hughes. In Carson, the man was unworthy of the woman, a little of a buffoon, spoiled and self-centered. In Hughes, he was pinioned by the gods exactly between intense love and inescapable duty, a tragic hero. Different translator choices, different tastes.
Jeffrey Barcham Ted Hughes'translation of Alcestis continues on a path he pursued for most of his later years: to resurrect "classic" poetry in a modern form. The translation flows eloquently, with the typical Hughes clipped verse. He seems desparate to make the text "speak" to modern readers, and (I think) especially to modern poets.
Despite the obvious (and poignant) parallels of the storyline to Hughes' own life, I did not find his translation of Alcestis as arresting as his Oresteia trilogy (especially the moving "Agamemnon"). The main characters in Alcestis all come across as somewhat cold, and there is a distance between the major themes (sacrifice, renunciation, regret) and the language used. The famous (but somewhat enlarged in Hughes' version) sequence of a drunken Heracles seems discordant given the sparce tone of the rest of the translation.
A fine (and uniquely personal) version, but one to be read along with older, more full treatments.
The description says this is "Translated Into English Rhyming Verse With Explanatory Notes By Gilbert Murray", but it is in fact the prose translation of Theodore Alois Buckley.
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dameronology · 3 months ago
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home {poe dameron x reader}
summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep
warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries 
more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!
- jazz
p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning 
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It had only been five days. 
You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe. 
The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy. 
 ‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn. 
‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’ 
‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’
‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’
‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’
‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’
‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’
‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’
‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response. 
‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’
‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’ 
You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in. 
A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-
- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting. 
His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.
‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’
‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.   
‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’
‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor. 
You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’ 
‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’
‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’
He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’ 
‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’
‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled. 
‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’
‘I promise.’
Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments. 
You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.
‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours. 
‘You know I love you, right?’
‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’
Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’
‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’
‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’
‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’
‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’
‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’
‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled. 
Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries. 
On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.
‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’
It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love. 
You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep. 
‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’
‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’
'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’
‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress. 
You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him. 
Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights. 
‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly. 
‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile. 
‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’
‘I do.’
‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’
‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).
It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you. 
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phoenixyfriend · 4 months ago
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The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU
As requested by @spazzbot​. This AU was initially brainstormed on the GG fanworks server almost a year ago. Specifically, on the first day of 2020.
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[ID: a truncated discord message by “Miss Nixy, Gay for RoboLadies” posted 01/01/2020. The message reads “I need to sleep but please for the moment consider:” and ends there.]
So. Let’s get to it.
Satan took a human form because why not see what's going on topside, live like a human, and “Oh shit is this pregnancy? This is pregnancy. Fuck, that's a tiny human. Which is now half demon. Am I supposed to take care it? Wonder if retconing this form into that Valois family was a bad idea. They do have SO much money though, I get to live like a queen. I suppose another child shouldn't hurt, it wasn't that bad. Oh, he's cute, this is actually making sense, why humans do all the sinning. Not counting dear Aaronev's murders, of course, those are just evil, but I did search out the worst of the humans to pair myself to...”
This is literally just "Tarvek and Anevka's mom was low-key Satan on a bored “let's be human for a decade or two to see what happens” jaunt, consequences happen because these kids are LITERALLY half-demon and arguably anti-Christs."
Also it's just Very Funny for Tarvek, ineffectual sexy lamp fashion twunk extraordinaire, to be an antichrist
Jeff thinks he’s pretty. Jeff keeps describing features that don’t entirely make sense. (Jeff’s canon name is Karl Thotep but they spent so long unnamed that the server collectively named them Jeff.)
This is not a crossover with anything, btw. Ambiguously Pop Culture Satan just got bored and went to have babies with a serial killer.
They’re just kids! That are vaguely demonic. So. Moreso than the rest of the Valois.
Sometimes "mom" comes back from the dead and visits Anevka and Tarvek to impart Wisdom and possibly magic lessons The rooms always smell faintly of sulfur after that...
They try to put Anevka in the machine but SHE isn't hurt and the MACHINE just melts
So that's the end of that.
It's very awkward for everyone, but the paperwork isn't too bad. It's very easy to write "incidental fire began during late-fugue experimentation, resulted in fire spreading through six rooms and several casualties, including Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus."
As per @atagotiak​, “I feel like if we’re going in any way dimensional weirdness with thing, Tarvek got so good at exploring bc he could just clip through walls.”
With image provided by @thisarenotarealblog​:
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Tarvek in Paris: My dead mother keeps showing up in my dreams to tell me I need to seduce my way out of my problems and also she looks like Satan. Tarvek's Voltaire-Appointed Therapist: I still don't know what that means. Just like the last five times. Tarvek: I keep telling her that I can’t seduce Colette, if seduction is that important she should get Anevka to do it.
Like he probably wouldn’t say most of that in front of any Voltaire-approved individual, but still.
Tarvek is still very good at self control but there's a Special Edge to his rants.
(Derailed in the moment to me thinking about Anevka in a sfw-but-concerningly-deadly succubus getup, because... yeah.)
Aaronev dies and goes to hell and his dead wife is just there like "hi! Time to be tortured for eternity!" He wasn't a good husband so. He can't exactly sentimentalize his way out.
“In the sexy way?” “... not for you, no.”
Mostly I just want the BULLSHIT that is "Storm Mom was actually just Satan getting bored and going on vacation as a retconned Valois girl, the kids are half-demons and sometimes it Shows."
To clarify: the Satan bit isn't the retcon. Grandma used to have one daughter. Now there are two. (Seffie and Martellus's mother doesn't remember being an only child, but sometimes...)
Satan retconned a new daughter in, which included a Valid Valois Venusian Vestment, so the blood tests play out.
The subtle signs of wrongness would be fun too. Anevka tends to smile a bit too wide and sharp for a human face. Inexplicable uneasiness, here you can’t point at any specific thing that’s wrong but it’s uncomfortable. Uncanny valley prettiness, almost like the porcelain she became in other timelines. Skin isn’t supposed to be that smooth.
My brain's pre-nap contribution at that point was "Satan's pronouns when not pretending to Human are sin/sinself" which is! Certainly a thing.
Tarvek, at some nebulous future point: I mean, your ancestors were monsters, but my dad was a serial killer and my mom was literally Satan, instead of just figuratively like Lucrezia, so. I mean. I kind of get what you're going through.
Per @firebirdeternal: Tarvek and Anevka growing up with "you're allergic to holy water" and not questioning it until a little later because What.
And then they test it and it's like "yeah, no, there's a rash now. That stung. What the fuck."
It INFURIATES Gil in Paris when Tarvek tells him that's a thing, because there's nothing chemically different about Holy water and regular water. But no, this is somehow happening.
It gets logged in medical journals as a Valois genetic thing because, well, Mom was like that too, right?
One time they both go into a church for an Adventure and Gil is very annoyed to find that Tarvek is like. Faintly smoking. It smells like burnt hair in here.
Gil: What smells like burnt hairgel? Tarvek: [glares]
Gil decides that it must be something particular to the church, like a fungus or something in the stone, contaminating the air and water so it only LOOKS like the holiness is what's setting off reactions.
It is not.
Tarvek once got into an argument with someone and ate a slab of raw, completely uncooked meat as a power move.
SVV seems to work perfectly. Everyone is fine. We get the ‘you fight like ducks’ moment.
And then Tarvek bursts into flames, and everyone panics because no they fixed this what the fuck is he still infected with Hogfarb’s oh my god... and then everything settles down and he's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him, no longer turning funny colors. Completely unharmed. He's in a nicely tailored suit and looks faintly stunned
"I just met my dead mom, who's apparently Satan. She told me that after I died the first time just now, I should be harder to kill later, especially with fire, because now there's more demon and less mortal and guys I think I'm going crazy." "Is that a martini?" Tarvek looks down. "Apparently."
Tarvek starts just. Randomly setting things on fire by glaring too hard and has to tone it down. Meanwhile, Agatha and Gil are having crises about how he's somehow getting PRETTIER.
Is he faintly glowing? Maybe!
Gil handles it by angrily sniping at Tarvek about how of COURSE he's an evil little rat with a background like that.
Tarvek just wants a nap and to forget this ever happened. Many people are sworn to secrecy. It's very awkward.
Still, SVV did something, for handwave-y reasons, and so they're linked now. Gil and Agatha both getting tiny flashes of the same shenanigans.
They get none of the powers. They just keep getting Weird Shit.
Other characters with divine influence are like "Did you.... did you make a pact with a demon?" "What no that's our boyfriend."
Tho tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if a Heterodyne did sign a contract with a demon at some point in exchange for like. Materials. A hundred souls sacrificed in exchange for some succubus blood. Thanks!
Tarvek and Othar: Falling out of CW as in canon. Tarvek: WHAT THE HELL SINCE WHEN DO I HAVE WINGS HIDE THIS BEFORE I GET BOOTED FROM THE LINE FOR THE THRONE
IDK where Anevka is during all this. I think she might have decided to go sleep her way through the courts of the Ice Tsars. Vacation, y'know?
Othar after he's decided to make Tarvek his new Heroic Apprentice: AH, my poor afflicted young friend, it's noble of you to go against the dark nature of your tragic heritage like this. Tarvek: I hate you. I wish I could hate you to death. But you have a point. I shouldn't let my father's blood limit what I strive for in life. Othar: I... I thought your mother was... Tarvek: I know what I said.
Tarvek: Also you can't tell ANYONE about that, I can't have them thinking I'm not actually in line for the Storm King's throne.
He does admittedly have to like. Explain things to Grandma.
Terabithia is Tarvek’s maternal grandmother so this is supremely awkward. That said...
Grandma fondly remembers her pregnancy cravings; bone marrow and sulfur.
"Yeah so, my mother, your daughter, was... maybe actually Satan? But retconned into your life?" "Tarvek, darling, please. I figured that out half a century ago."
TARVEK ACCIDENTALLY FINDS HIM HIMSELF WEIRDLY INTENSE AT CONTRACTS
I mean that honestly just Tracks about Tarvek anyways? But like moreso.
He just. Writes something up and there's things getting signed or shook on and then the person tries to break the contract and either suddenly catch fire or are deeply unlucky for a set amount of time.
And Tarvek's just standing there like "how in the FUCK did I do that?"
Severity of infernal punishment depends on the severity of the breach of contract.
Tarvek finds out that Anevka's been convincing rich people to sign their souls over to her. It's a fun challenge. She keeps them in jars.
They can still remotely pilot their bodies but like. They can't TELL anyone what happened.
Satan: I'm going to go make babies and now everyone else has to deal with the consequences.
Anevka's living up to that whole "princess of hell" vibe. Tarvek's just like "nope nope nope I want the storm throne, not the hell throne, BYE MOM."
Satan's just feeling sinself down in hell like "awwww look at my babies go, aren't they adorable?"
Tarvek: Anevka, what... first off, how did you figure it out? Anevka: Well, I temporarily died when father put me in the machine, and... I can't say that hell kicked me out because they were afraid I'd take over, but mother DID say she'd rather I play about with human governments instead of Hell's. Tarvek: Okay, cool cool cool. What after you planning to DO with all these souls? Anevka: They make for some lovely reading lamps, don't they?
(Anevka absolutely sets herself the goal of acquiring new titles that rival her old ones, or even surpass them. She just black widows her way through Europa.)
I just want someone (probably Snackleford) to ascend, take one look at Tarvek, and run SCREAMING.
Tarvek still needed to be anchored to Higgs, because Tarvek is Baby.
Gil is eventually in a relationship with an Eternal God Queen and the Literal Son of Satan.
Family dinners can include ALL the in-laws if you duck down to hell! - You borrow Bill from... probably heaven, maybe purgatory. - You have Lu and Aaronev and Satan already there, though the first two... well. Aaronev and Lu get invited to dinner but they have to eat by themselves at the kiddy table and nobody talks to them or acknowledges their presence. After all, this is hell, and what better punishment for Lu than to be completely ignored, and for Aaronev to see Lu at her worst and be reminded that he gave everything for this horrible, horrible person who isn't even pretending to care about him anymore. - Zanta and Klaus get invited via portal. - Anevka saunters in with a blood-soaked dress and a complaint about militant demon-hunters refusing to let her go shopping for a new pair of shoes. - Zeetha tagged along with the OT3. (She can't wait to see this situation explode.)
Oh God, Satan is actually second place as far as good parenting goes.
Well, actually, fourth. Because Adam and Lilith. But second as far as bio parents go. 1. Zanta 2. Satan 3. Klaus 4/5. Lu and Aaronev N/A. Bill
Someone (Anevka) decides to stir the pot and invites Von Pinn, Terabithia, Bang.
Bang is basically Gil’s older sister, right? Right.
This is Zanta meeting Bang for the first time! Zanta is just: "It's so nice to meet my husband's adopted daughter." Klaus freezes. Bang freezes. Gil is the only one who is just. "Yeah." Meanwhile Zeetha is crying with laughter off to the side because both of them deserve this. (Zanta would legit love Bang though.)
Agatha: Tarvek, I think DuPree is-- Tarvek: Hitting on my sister? I know. Agatha: On your mom, actually. Tarvek: NO!
Also I do love the idea of like. Nobody tells Bang they're inviting her. She just wakes up in Hell like. "Ah. Yes. Fair enough."
Satan: Oh no no no my dear, you're here as a guest. Besides as well as you'd fit you're not one of mine, you've got other things waiting for you. Bang: Okay, but I love the decor. And is that Cheesecake?
Bang’s family has their own evil god in the novels, but! Bang DID pick on Tarvek a lot in Paris. Satan cares more than Anevka does. Bang might get the sexy punishment.
I feel like the fact that no permanent damage was done and it taught Tarvek a lot of things means Satan isn't gonna be all that upset about it.
And let's be real, if there's a character in GG who could look the literal Christian devil in the eye and be like "Yeah I tortured your kid, what're you going to do about it?" it's Bang.
Even Satan doesn't know what to do or think about Othar.
He sure is here! As Anevka’s arm candy! Nobody knows what to do except Anevka herself, who just wants to be Smug.
(What's that scene from Phineas and Ferb that's the mad scientist trapping the platypus within the rules of polite dining at a fine restaurant? Like he can't make a scene because that would be rude?) (That. Othar would dearly love to start a fight, but it's a Family Dinner. You're only allowed to fight verbally at those.)
(Othar isn't even fighting Satan, he just wants to argue with Klaus.) (And maybe fanboy in Bill's direction a bit).
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secret-ssociety · 6 months ago
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Behind the scenes
Pairing(s): Aaron Tveit x Reader, Les Mis (2012) cast x Reader
Warnings: This is just fluff. Like one curse
Summary: It is never intended for Enjolras and Eponine to fall in love in the original story, but a lot of things can happen when the cameras are turned off
A/N: I know everyone is waiting for more of the Let Me Down series but I have wanted to do this for a long time bc I am utterly in love with this man and I've always said I don't want to just write Peter Parker's stuff. Might make this several parts, who knows, I like things with parts.
masterlist
requests are open!!
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For the first time in the whole day, silence fell upon the set of Les Mis, being only vaguely interrupted by the quiet chatter of everyone else who, unlike you, still had energy to talk. It's not like it was your fault, though, you had no idea of how much running around implied to play Eponine.
Huddled in a quiet corner of what had been built to be the Café Musain, you pushed your knees against your chest and hid your face between them, hoping to catch some rest before Tom decided he wanted to do a scene again. Was it maybe two in the morning? Three? You didn't even know anymore, you weren't allowed to carry a watch around your wrist and your phone was charging in your trailer, but the last time you had checked it was midnight and that had been a few hours ago.
Doing a movie, you had come to learn in your first few days of filming, was quite different from putting up a show. Interacting with your surroundings, going over scenes and even directing your eyes to a certain place while saying your lines was a world away from your common place on stage. You'd had to repress a loud squeak on your first day on set when you saw just how real everything looked, and when you started to try on your garments... you might as well have been a street urchin on Paris, 1832.
A small finger touched your shoulder timidly, waking you up from your fragile sleep and making you lift your head from its place. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the light and you even had to squint a little to recognize Daniel standing next to you, looking just as tired, but with a small flame of caffeine dancing in the back of his eyes. Who the fuck gave the kid coffee? You wondered.
"How long do you think they'll keep us here?" he asked sitting next to you. From all your cast mates, Daniel was probably the first one you had grown fond of, but then again, so had everyone.
"Maybe not much longer, unless they want us to be here at noon tomorrow," you answered raising an eyebrow. Being the youngest person on the whole set, you could tell he was trying to hold his own like the adults, drinking coffee and doing his best to stay awake.
The problem with that, you knew, was that caffeine reacted differently on kids and adults: when an adult drinks coffee, it gives them energy for a long period of time, the caffeine is distributed in order to serve the body for good while. When a child drinks coffee, on the other hand, the caffeine gives them a rush of adrenaline that gets them jumping up and down and running circles around the adults, very much like Daniel was doing a while ago, thus burning all the energy they had acquired as fast as they had engorged it.
"You want to rest for a minute?" you asked him, stretching your legs so that he could rest his head on them. He shook his head tiredly, but didn't put up a fight when you grabbed his shoulder and started to lay him down.
Softly, you caressed his hair, while carefully trying to undo the tangles the dirt had made onto his hair to give him that street gamine I-live-in-the-elephant-of-the-Bastille look. In a matter of seconds, he was fully asleep, snoring quietly against the fabric of your skirt.
You heard some of the boys approaching, laughing loudly with cups of steaming coffee on their hands, and were quick to lift your finger up to your lips, to let them know of the resting boy that would be quickly awaken by their laughs. They apologized in whispers, handed you the cup they had brought for you and sat around you.
"Helena is trying to convince them to let us go to the hotel," Alistair commented, although he didn't look tired at all, more like he was amused by everyone else's exhaustion.
You sighed in relief against the cup, which was held close to your lips, making the steam hit your face in a warmth that made you aware of how cold your nose was. Only one gulp of the bitter liquid was enough to warm the blood flowing through your veins and take you back to life, you could open your eyes properly and the first the landed on was one of the most distinctive of your cast mates: Aaron Tveit.
Was there something special about him that made you think of his full name instead of just the first? Yeah, everything. He was the embodiment of the Enjolras Victor Hugo had wrote, the one that had been nicknamed Apollo by his friends. Maybe it was the way he held himself, somehow taller than everyone else, with that revolutionary fire in his eyes and walking around the set like he was actually going to get the people to build a barricade.
Wherever he happened to exist, you couldn't help but feel the presence of an olden god amongst mortals, the time go slower and light to travel in a bliss. There was just something so ethereal about him...
"He's talent, isn't he?" Alistair commented, having followed the direction of your eyes. "Among other things," Eddie joked, perhaps having caught on on the repressed smitten nature of your gaze. Stubbornly, you rolled your eyes.
As if saved by the bell, your director announced that everyone was allowed to go and get some rest, under the condition that you had to be back the next day before lunch. You were so tired, you almost forgot you were on your costume, being remembered by Eddie when you walked straight to the exit.
Up until that day, you had followed you stylist's skincare routine religiously every day after finishing filming, but once you found yourself in your sweatpants and Alistair's sweater, you simply poured water in your face and wiped all the makeup away with a paper towel.
Outside of your trailer, you found at least half of the Amis waiting for you to go grab some pizza while forming a wall to shield a newly caffeinated Daniel from your accusatory eyes. "I just left my cup unattended for a second!" George said quickly. You didn't know if you should laugh or yell at them, but you decided you were too tired to do either, so you simply took his hands and walk with the boys to the minivans the studio had hired for your transportation.
Eating pizza after having barely washed the makeup off of your face and only having a few hours to sleep after? You knew you were going to break out, but that was a tomorrow's problem.
Perhaps it was the magic that gravitated around Aaron that made you look back to see him, walking several feet behind the lot of you and clearly immersed on his thoughts. What you did next wasn't exactly a conscious decision, but it felt as natural as if it were.
"Hey, Tveit," you smiled, stopping before him. He looked surprised for a second, since he hadn't heard you approach him, but then smiled softly at you.
"Hello, Y/L/N," he said back, looking at you with those piercing eyes of him.
"We're going to grab a bite, wanna come?" You asked with a bright smile, one so cute that made it hard for him to say no.
"I don't know, it's late..." he said with half a smile.
"Did you know that pizza wasn't invented until the late half of the 18th century," you said, persistently, making him raise an eyebrow at the random fact, "that means all of our characters died without having ever eaten pizza. Shouldn't we, in order to honor them, do the things they never got to do?"
Aaron tried as hard as he could to fight back a smile at your argument. He had heard from the other guys about your occurrences and funny yet charming way with words, but he still hadn't had a chance to delight himself with it all too much. Maybe you were both too busy, maybe he wasn't as good as he liked to think to break the ice and Alistair had beat him to it.
He was practically convinced already, but still you added, "come on, Enjolras is still going to be here tomorrow morning... er, today a little less morning." You corrected checking the time on your wrist watch.
He was tired and not really hungry, but sill he nodded and followed you to the exit, where the rest of your friends cheered upon his joining.
Thankfully, the place Fra Fee knew was not too far away from the hotel, because none of you would have managed to walk too much after the day you'd had. Pulling a couple of tables together with the help of a waitress who pretended not to be a little starstruck, all of you sat down and ordered. You personally tried to ignore the way Eddie gave you his sit so that you would end up sat next to Aaron.
After ordering three large pizzas and some lemonade, and having grudgingly remembered that you couldn't order a beer or anything of the sort, you resumed your chattery. You soon found that, while you weren't the only theatre actress on the room, you were the only one who had never been on a film before. Still, that didn't mean your previous work had gone unnoticed.
"I was really excited to meet Y/N," Eddie commented on Daniel's side, "because I went to see her in The Phantom of The Opera, in London and I was" he made the gesture of his head blowing up, making you laugh.
"Yes, I knew I had seen you somewhere! You're Christine Daaé!" George exclaimed, interrupting the bite he was about to give to his pizza.
"Didn't you say on the first table reading that your dream role is Esmeralda, from the Hunchback?" Aaron perked up, making you blush a little.
"Esmeralda, Christine and Eponine," Alistair numbered, only giving you time to nod, "are you planning on becoming the Holy Trinity of French Theater?"
"I'll be able to say the Holy Trinity of French Theater died in my arms!"
You almost spilled your lemonade at the exclamation, unable to contain your laughs, very much like everyone else on the table. You didn't mean for your face to be as red as it was in that moment, but you couldn't help it when everyone seemed to be so interested in your past work. Despite attention being your line of work, you didn't know how to handle it that good.
It was when Daniel's adrenaline burnt off, as you had predicted, and he was found too tiresd to even keep his head up that you came back to the hotel, with the quiet company of Aaron, who had also offered to take the young boy back to his room. You were both in silence, though it was not an awkward one, it just wasn't necessary to talk to enjoy the other's company.
"We're getting a cow," he said suddenly, when you were approaching the entrance of the hotel.
"What?" You asked with a confused smile.
"We're getting a cow, on the set, tomorrow," he clarified grinning, "she will be there for the scenes of the barricade."
"Why would a cow be on a barricade?" You questioned with a laugh, opening the door for Aaron, since he was carrying Daniel, and receiving a little thank you in return. "Not that I'm complaining."
He laughed in return and followed you to the elevator, making sure neither the young boy nor the jacket he had put over him fell from his embrace. The cow thing had just been to start conversation and be able to ask what he really wanted to know, although he was a little pumped up about the cow.
"Do you want to do what Alistair said?" He asked curiously, "About being the Holy Trinity of French Theater, it is."
"I had never thought about it that way, but it sounds quite nice," you answer thoughtfully. "Though, I believe I would have to play Eponine on a stage, rather than a set to really earn that title."
"You're not liking movie making so far?" He asked somewhat amused, specially when you whipped your head to look at him with wide eyes.
"No! That's not what I mean," you talked so fast you nearly stumbled through your words, but the kindness on his eyes made you sigh and calm down. "This has been amazing so far and I would never underestimate the huge effort it takes to make one of these. I mean, I've only been doing this for a couple days and I'm already beyond exhaustion. And yet it has been wonderful, the set and the preparation and just seeing all the work it implies is... unbelievable."
You knocked three time on the door, to see Daniel's mother not two seconds later. Aaron had been worried that maybe she would be concerned and even a little mad at how late her son was coming back, but you had been texting her throughout the extra hours of shooting and to let her know you were going to take him to eat something before coming back to the hotel.
She kindly thanked you both, took Daniel (who was still sound sleep) on her arms and gave Aaron his jacket back, to then close the door. Without saying much, he walked you to your own room, prompting you to continue.
"Where was I? Oh, yeah! So filming a movie is... I'm running out of adjectives, but it's really great," he chuckled slightly, "but I don't think it can top the feeling of being on the theater," you sighed dreamily.
"On stage, there is no take two, the things you're doing can only be done once. There's..." your tongue ran through your lips, an action Aaron found almost mesmerizing, as you tried to find the words to describe the thing you loved the most in the world. "There's this feeling, when the show is about to start, the lights dim, the overture starts and you get goosebumps and you heart starts thumping at the moment you come on stage, there's something about that moment being unrepeatable and having the eyes of the crowd on you, the adrenaline is just... is like the identity line that divides the actor from their character disappears and in that moment you're not quite them, but you're not you, you're just..." you let out a breath at the inability to find the word and, for a moment, you worried you might have bored him with your rambling, but he had that bliss over his face, the one only a theatre actor knows and has, that told you he knew exactly what you're talking about.
The next morning, back on set and with your costumes again covering your backs, Aaron found himself so hypnotized by the sight of you rehearsing with Amanda his tea got cold and was utterly scared when Eddie's palm fell onto his back, dragging him out of his day dream.
"Is this the part when the Phantom is stalking Christine?" George asked jokingly, making Aaron roll his eyes.
For someone who made so much fun of him for becoming Enjolras, he had certainly developed Grantaire's mocking nature.
"She's really talented," the blonde man answered nonchalantly, drinking from his tea and making a face when he found out the drink was cold.
"I see," Eddie said handing him his tea, "are you seeing our dear Y/N under a new light?"
Was he? It would be a lie to say he didn't come back to his room with you occupying every single one of his thoughts, his heart fluttering who had managed to put his passion for theatre in words. Had his hands always became a little shaky around you? Yes. But today it was even worse.
Today, your voice giving life to Eponine's thoughts and emotions could make his cheeks blush or bring tears to his eyes in a matter of a second. Today, you walked around with a strange light over you, one that didn't allow him to look away while, at the same time, reprehended him for staring. Today, you were more than an artist, an actress. You were something more than human.
"Nonsense," he replied stubbornly, "I have always known how talented she is."
Before he could get a sarcastic comment or a snide yet friendly remark, the three men's chatter was interrupted by the two previously mentioned ladies rehearsing The Robbery, one of the scenes you planned on filming that day.
"It's the police! Disappear! Run for it!" Your strong soprano voice cut all chattery in one swift motion. "It's Javert!"
He probably held his breath for as long as you held the note. Once you opened your eyes, you seemed a little embarrassed at all the eyes on you, but Aaron didn't understand just what did you have to be embarrassed about.
Eddie shook his shoulder, "breathe, mate!"
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the-voltage-diaries · 6 months ago
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Guns N’ Roses - Taki Kozaki (BirTAKIDAY Countdown: Day 5)
Early update today! Truth be told, I have no idea how this turned out, so I’m publishing it now instead of keeping it in drafts any longer bc then i’d shoot myself over the self scrutiny. So, if I pray to the gods that its good, and I hope you like it.
What if instead of the MC, Taki was the one who got shot?
Minor spoilers for Taki’s Season 4 Part 2. Like very minor lol. The creator chose not to give any warnings. Have fun. ;)
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A gunshot. That’s all I heard.
That’s the only sound that flowed into my ears while my arms mustered all their strength to push (Y/N) away from me, and into Yosuke’s safe embrace.
I think she screamed my name, but my mind probably didn’t register it as everything lulled around me. It was as if the world came to a slow stop when I felt the bullet rip through me. That was possibly the first time in a long time when I crumbled. Not emotionally, but physically. Right onto the ground in a heap of powerless limbs. What a bloodied sight to behold.
‘When was the last time I felt so lifeless?’ I thought, gasping for air. ‘Was it when my dad left me? Or was it when I got beaten up for not paying the debt on time?’ A lazy smile made its way to my face as broken flashbacks presented themselves to me. It had been a similar situation then, with me being a mass of broken bones, pulsating bruises and blood trickling out of me, just like my life.
How had I even survived?
I didn’t know. And maybe my mind didn’t want to think any further on those lines either, for the next thing I knew, I felt myself giving in to the vortex of black calling out to me, almost sensually. I sensed its fingers reach out to me, caressing me with a certain ease before it opened its arms to welcome me in its soothing, lifeless embrace.
Just as I felt myself extend an arm towards it, I heard someone calling me. No, I heard her calling me.
I tried to ignore it, I tried to ignore her, but the voice just kept getting louder and louder. It was as if it was trying to tell me that I couldn’t leave... not like this. I couldn’t leave it all without ending things the right way. The moment that epiphany came to me, my chest heaved as a burst of life was pumped back into me.
I somehow opened my eyes, clenching my wrists against the immediate pain, and blinked the haze out of them. I looked up, on the verge of losing consciousness again, only to see (Y/N) in front of me, clutching my hands tight in hers.
‘You’re too good for me,’ I thought, and I chuckled, ignoring the stabs of discomfort shoot through me. I gazed into her eyes, wet with desperation, begging me to fight, pleading me to do everything in my power to just, somehow, anyhow, just... stay.
“Ta...Taki, no, don’t- don’t do this, please,” she whispered, trembling. (Y/N) intertwined our fingers and bit her lip, staring back at me with a longing like no other. “Please, don’t close your eyes, okay? We can make it through this, I know we can, okay? We will make it through this,” she breathed, looking away, “Just... please, please don’t close your eyes...”
“(Y/N),” I finally uttered, pushing against the dryness coating the insides of my mouth. "(Y/N), look at me, love,” I whispered again, somehow lifting my fingers to her face, tilting it so that our eyes would meet once again.
“T-Taki- no, no no, please, no,” she murmured in one quick breath, as if sensing what was about to happen.
“I love you,” I breathed, smiling as I finally felt my life slip away from my loose fingers.
And with that, I slipped into a senseless, timeless dark world, feeling it consume me from the inside out.
Things escalated quickly after that. It was like the time that had slowed down to a stop finally sped up into a run, sprinting through my fading consciousness. 
Yosuke called an ambulance, even though he knew it was too late, and I was rushed to the hospital where Shun and Kiyohito sat, awaiting any update Yosuke had for them. It didn’t take long for the doctor to leave my side and walk out of the room to let them know that there was no use praying, or hoping, or... wanting. 
What was done, was done.
I was with them no more.
Kiyohito, for the first time in ages, looked downright terrified as he curled into Shun’s side, whose tense shoulders did nothing to hide the anxiety he felt either, but he tried to distract himself by rubbing comforting circles on Kiyo’s shoulder as the latter’s eyes welled up with tears, refusing to believe the news. 
I feel a crack echoing in my already shattered heart when I recall how pale (Y/N) looked when she crumbled to the ground, silent as a graveyard.  Yosuke stood right beside her, clenching his fists to numb the pain even as a silent tear dripped down his cheek.
It happened only a week ago, but I remember everything so vividly that I still have a hard time believing if it’s really just memories or an actual movie playing at the front of my mind, every single day.
Sometimes, I still wonder if pushing her away was the right thing to do.
At the time, it seemed like it was. Pushing (Y/N) away meant saving her life, and that was all that mattered.
But now, as I watch her bite her trembling lip, quivering in her black dress while looking at the photo of me in a navy blue frame, I feel a twinge of regret. I look down at Sydney sitting beside her leg, curled up at her side, staring into my soul through the picture, and I feel a pinch of guilt for leaving this life and the two most important woman in them behind.
If anyone asked me why I’m here, I wouldn’t know how to answer them.
After all, what does one do at their own funeral?
‘I want to spend more time with you,’ I think, scoffing at myself for only realising that now, of all times. If only I looked her in the eye and not Ashiba when I felt the bullet pierce me, maybe I would have done things differently. Maybe I would have fought harder, longer. Maybe... maybe I would have saved us both.
But there never is any use crying over spilled milk, now is there?
I sigh, taking in another deep breath as I watch Yosuke walk over to the low podium, a wet handkerchief held tight between his fingers. He steps in front of the mic, and that’s when I catch a sight of his red eyes. This fool, still trying so hard to cover up how he’s feeling.
“Taki was...” he begins, before his trembling lips stop and he looks up, sniffing. “No, Taki is a...” a quiet sob pauses him, “... great friend. He has been, for the last ten years I’ve known him. Always so straightforward, always so blunt. He was so stuck up, I sometimes thought he had a stick shoved up his ass, you know?”
He laughs, but he fools nobody. His attempt at humor only backfires as his shoulders shake, and he finally lets his tears fall down. He sniffles again, trying to gather himself up, but a part of him gives up, and he just allows the world to see his cheeks, wet with tears, too tired to bother wiping them.
“But, I think that’s what I loved the most about him. His honesty. His strength. In all the years I had the honour to call myself his friend, he never once faltered. He was always so... driven. We didn’t meet under the best of circumstances, but I think life, for me at least, became a much better journey with him in it. I felt like I finally made a friend. We never explicitly stated it, but we both knew we had each other to fall back on, should we ever needed. That is... until that day one week ago. I-I’m sorry Taki, I-” he trembles,”I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time. I’m sorry I didn’t have your back when you needed it the most.” 
He takes a moment to dab at his eyes with his kerchief before clearing his throat.
“I never admitted to it, but I loved the man despite all our arguments, our disagreements, our fights, our everything. I know, he loved me too. And I know, he is no longer around for me to pull his leg, or tease him,” Yosuke takes a quick breath, and when he starts speaking again, his voice is nothing above a whisper, “but I know he’ll be right here,” he touches his heart, “no matter what. I couldn’t be more grateful to have made a friend like you, Taki. God knows I’ll miss you and our banter, but... I hope you’re in a better place now. You lived a very, very good life. But I wish you’d stuck around longer, mate.”
Yosuke looks back at my picture near the coffin, and I feel my heart clench at the forlorn look he gives me. 
“I’ll miss you, Tacks,” he whispers again, and I know he means it with everything he’s got. “Love you.”
I feel something wet splash against the back of my hand, and it’s then that I realise that Yosuke isn’t the only one tearing up.
This asshole. Who asked this brat to get all emotional? It wasn’t like him at all. And look what he did to me with his mindless mumbo-jumbo.
‘I’ll miss you too, Yosuke.’
One by one, each of the guys and (Y/N) say their pieces, and to my surprise, they all tear up once they look at the blue coffin inside which I lay. Heh, who knew I’d be so loved, after all?
Forget people crying for me, if ten years ago someone told me I’d even have the fortune of having someone attend my funeral, I’d laugh in their face. It’s funny how things change with time.
Before long, the proceedings are done, and it’s finally time to lay my lifeless body to rest. But just as my coffin is rested on the cool, welcoming earth, I catch (Y/N) leading a depressed Sydney to the pit. She takes the bouquet out of her mouth and places it over the wooden lid of the casket.
I gasp and feel a fresh wave of moisture greet the back of my eyes when I see what they are.
Roses. Nine of them.
‘Eternal love.’ I recall the meaning of this particular set of roses, and once again, I can’t help but be grateful to have such a friend like her. ‘Thank you.’
It’s when my wooden little residence is covered with soil and my tombstone is placed over it that I read the words chosen for me by them. Yosuke. Kiyohito, Shun, (Y/N) and Sydney. My family. A family that I’m leaving behind.
‘His true wealth was in his generous heart. And what an enormous wealth he had.’
And it’s with those lines, I finally feel myself vanish into thin air with a smile on my face. For ever.
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i-screamed-fireworks · 7 months ago
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It is sunday, 11:38pm. 
let’s evaluate this weekend: 
. I have done nothing productive  . . . why? let’s consider that real quick. I let my emotions get the better of me and direct my actions. I find out my brother holds near intolerable opinions about the condition of women in this world and my mom confirms that my entire life I’ve never been able to make them truly satisfied and the rest of my life will be a mission to accomplish that. I angrily leave the house all night on Friday to run away to a COVID-questionable hangout with Steven & his DJ friends inside their apartment. No masks and a bong, also a Truly’s drink and a lot of EDM. A sexist insecure tech bro that is addicted to and insecure about his drug usage. But regardless, a nice escape, altho even the “nice” is fleeting as in my somewhat crossed daze I have flashbacks to the argument from earlier that night and can’t really process the reality of what I’ve just heard from my brother. I can’t tell if it’s as bad as it really sounded to me or how in the world I’m supposed to go back there and pretend like it’s fine. Since then I’ve questioned how I’m supposed to have a relationship anymore as someone who was trying to be a more compassionate older sister.  [the problem with being the older sibling while the younger one is still “young” is that any form of retaliation against them looks bad on you, for not being smarter or more mature. they, being the younger sibling, have every right to follow your lead. which means that if you, as in myself, try to distance myself from him, he’ll probably also just not talk to me. not like he does much anyway, so that’s that.]  I come back home paranoid and not in a safe state to drive, 3:20something am and knock out. Actually, my skin hella broke out the following day, unsurprisingly. Taco bell at 2:30am and a whole 20+ hours of awakeness on your skin finna do that to you. 
...Saturday I sleep in and spend the first half of the day packing my bag and getting dressed while also trying to do so around the cleaning ladies. Leave. Escape the house to Hunter’s with minimal conversation to Daddy to tell him where I’m going, no, I’m not gonna wait to eat lunch at home once Ma comes back; obviously not talking to Varun, Ma is at the studio. Talk to Tope on the phone the entire drive up and more, process the previous night’s events, why Varun is wrong, that I’m right, that he’s wrong about how the world works, listen to Tope’s stories, validate each other, talk about trauma. Get here, as in inside. 4 something? Hunter. sex. post sex. league. I’m irritated. a new pile of dishes. he’s playing league. sex is attention. looking at tik tok is attention. I try to work on my project: re-recording my mix. I can’t get myself to make it happen. It’s around 6. I decide to leave the apartment. Being here is irritating. I can’t focus. I decide to take a walk. I roam around Downtown Berkeley and the edge of campus; I listen to music but am vaguely aware that I am not settled. My mind feels restless, I need another distraction. I resist the urge to call James; maybe we can session. But is that the right way to spend my time? I keep roaming, but I call James and briefly touch on my restlessness. He’s down to come to Berkeley. Well that’s ideal. Agree to meet, most likely. I run into Sava on University where there are sidewalk jazz bands performing in front of restaurants. I over commit myself and agree to hangout. Incapable of being honest and realistic on the spot? I tell her I can meet back up with her and her friend for drinks, but let me run back to Hunter’s and get my ID. I come back. Haven’t spoken to Hunter in a while bc I left angrily, again, unable to deal with my irritation but now he’s asleep, impossibly fatigued and dizzy? laying on his bed. I feel bad and immediately want to comfort & take care of him. I do that. Eventually text Sava like an hour after I left them that I won’t make it out bc Hunter. But James is still coming, after I dumped my indecision on him and then felt bad and succumbed the original plan. Eventually leave Hunter to sleep and meet James to session. Session was actually nice. I should use the word “session” lightly bc I didn’t really dance that much, but it was enough for me to focus my emotions and attention on my emotions elsewhere.  
Sunday morning, today. Hunter wakes up at 7something. I sleep in til about 9:30. sex. oatmeal. dishes. argument. Is it worth it to even discuss it here? I don’t like it. Anyway, I leave, kind of irritated again, to meet Sean in the city. Another escape, it seems. Even if the plan sort of called for it. Hanging out is nice. I bought a couple nice pieces off of Mina at her anarchist-tech-artist-baker boyfriend’s pop up event in his collective’s new(ish) studio space. It was funny bc I realized how little I knew about Mina’s life. Sean & I discuss politics, podcasts, the space, the most amazing almond croissants made from scratch by Mina’s boyfriend. We stay there for a little while. We go to his new apt, pick up canned wine, decide to chill with them at that park place around and up the cliff of Sutro Baths. Where the guy used to live. It is foggy, quiet, very dreamy aside from the growing presence of dogs and their people as the evening progresses. We sit and then further discuss life and politics. I tell him about the arguments at home. It’s sad and heavy and the cold mist is starting to get to me, plus I’m buzzed. But it is nice bc I teared up a bit. I didn’t let them fall. But in retrospect if I did it would’ve been okay with him even if I felt weird. I talk about therapy. The evening still ends with a sweet touch as we go to this fish burrito place which actually had the best fish burrito I’ve ever had. Especially satisfying bc I haven’t had much of an appetite since yesterday. Eating finally got to feel good again. 
That about sums up most of the day today. But if things had continued positively I wouldn’t have started writing. But I feel kind of tired now. I don’t feel like getting into the play by play of what happened this evening. But it is accurate to say that I feel disgruntled to say the least; and I have continued to do nothing to further my goals this evening, due to the fact that I have been disgruntled. Like I said, I don’t think it’s worth it to get into why I’m disgruntled. I know to some extent that saying that I’ve been “irritated” this whole weekend is an oversimplification of what & why I feel; but for now I am doing this in an effort to try and zoom out and look at myself. Even tho I already went through almost the entire play by play... whatever. 
Honestly, maybe just writing out the play by play was the intention here. I bolded these other things to call out patterns to myself; but I was coming into writing with those in mind anyway. I feel like I should just let my therapist figure it out lol. I couldn’t even read tonight. I question slightly if writing all this out was another distraction, an escape from myself in the present and the environment I am in (more arguments/disagreements with Hunter, not feeling seen). It felt necessary, even if it was a distraction. I am less disgruntled, just sleepy. 
I started writing with the intention of breaking something down (my emotional habits)... and then try to use them to confront myself with things that I already know? that seems wrong. I know the most important thing is: getting shit done. but in my head my ego tells me my emotions are the most important thing. Is that a correct read of this? 
Honestly, I thought I started this with a pretty clear-enough question. That’s how all essays work, right? Not that I was thinking of this as an essay. But you know, for general direction and structure. I even tried to refer back to it a few times. But now I’m just sleepy. And it is technically Monday now, 12:49am. 
I know that I did what I thought I needed to do to take care of my emotional state this weekend. I do not know what is right or wrong. 
I should try to end this more affirmatively. I’m going to sleep now. On Monday, later today, I will try to start the day more optimistically. I will try to not let my frustrations get the better of me. I will be proactive and remind myself of the fact that I control my reality much more than I let myself believe. Tomorrow will be a better day, because I will choose to make it one. 
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ghoularaki · 8 months ago
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what’s your favorite scary movie?
↠ summary: You always loved Halloween and the ability it gave you to dress up. This year you decided to be brave and go with a costume on the slutty side.  Your revealing outfit didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend, Shinsou who just went with wearing a Ghostface mask. In the chill of the Halloween party you both went to, a heat builds leaving you two bond together.  
↠ word count: 7,183
↠ pairing: shinsou hitoshi x reader
↠ genre/warnings: smut, a little bit of fluff, college au, punk! shinsou, alcohol, drugs, established bdsm relationship, mention of spit play, graphic sex scene (unprotected sex, semi-exhibitionism, size kink, knife play, blood play/blood drinking, mask kink, daddy kink, praise, degradation, consensual branding via cutting, uh not pre-planned scene but was briefly talked about??), fluffy aftercare!!!, shinsou is vv possessive 
↠ a/n: no one look at me this purely for me and no one else <3 i just wanted to be self indulgent and write one of my biggest fantasies with punk! shinsou bc i can!! enjoy reading <3
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All Hallow’s Eve would always be your favorite time of the year. Though as you aged you had grown out of trick-or-treating, there was always a thrill that ran down your spine as the weather grew colder. Despite being in your twenties, you never tired of dressing up for the occasion. This year you decided to go out of your comfort zone and dressed on the scantily clad side. This landed you in a slutty satanic cheerleader outfit every alternative bitch has worn at least once, but you still felt sexy. 
When you walked into the party, you had shivered from the cold. You could still hear the snark in Shinsou’s tone from you refusing to wear a coat on top of your costume. When you left your apartment complex to meet Shinsou ready to pick you up, he had raised an eyebrow at your costume. You weren’t ignorant to how he drank up the visible skin, not so subtly biting his lip. 
Now, you were glad you went with your gut as the swarm of hot bodies was sticking to your overheating skin. Leaning against the wall, you eyed Shinsou who decided to dress up as Ghostface. Dress up would be a term you would use loosely though as he wore his usual wardrobe of black ripped jeans, a black tee along with his thick leather jacket but only added the mask on top of it. How he wasn’t scorching in his clothes boggled your mind. 
Probably sensing your stare, he dipped his head down towards you with a quirked up brow, “what?” 
You only shrugged before looking at the drink in his hand, “give me a sip.”
“Ew no. I don’t want your slobber on it,” he scowled but you could see the mirth in those lilac eyes.
Making a face, you pouted, “you have literally spat in my mouth before, don’t say shit.”
He only shook his head with a smirk and handed you the cup. “Don’t be a little brat.”
“But that’s how you like me best!” 
There was a giggle on your lips as you took the red solo cup placed in your hands. With both palms on the cup, you tipped it back so the bitter sweetness poured onto your tongue. Brain already fuzzy from the previous drinks you had downed the past two hours, you welcomed the fleeting sting in your throat. Before you could sip up all of the alcohol, Shinsou took his drink from your hands.
You scowled and whined for him to give it back. 
“I think that’s enough for now, let’s find you somewhere to sit.”
He spied the way your body swayed, pleasantly tipsy. You had to admit your feet were killing you from standing for so long in your heeled boots. With his arm wrapped around your shoulder to protect you from other party goers, Shinsou led you to an empty spot at the end of the couch by his good friend Kaminari. 
“Hey man!” Kaminari slurred, marijuana heavy on his breath. He lazily waved at Shinsou before his focus shifted to you and that’s when he perked up. “I didn’t know the little lady was with you! I can move so you both can sit.”
Rounding the corner to the empty spot Shinsou only shook his head. “Nah man, don’t move.”
You tilted your head in confusion. Then where would you sit?
 Dropping down on the cushions by armrest, nonchalantly he jerked you gently by the wrist to tumble sideways right on his lap. A yelp left you as you knocked right into his chest. 
Oh.
You felt how your feet hit Kaminari’s thighs but he didn’t seem to mind as he helped push them towards Shinsou. Kaminari was always understanding of Shinsou’s possessive behavior and the biggest advocate for whatever the fuck label bestowed upon you two. Not discreetly, Shinsou pulled the hem of your short skirt down so you didn’t flash anyone. A different type of shiver traveled throughout your body as you felt his tattooed knuckles brush against the skin of your thighs. 
The alcohol made you sleepy so you rested your head against his chest. Humming, Shinsou wrapped an arm around your back and let his other hand drop in your lap so you could play with his fingers if you wanted to. 
It was moments like this you were happy you had someone like Shinsou. He has been your best friend since you two were in middle school and you both have been inseparable since. He was there through everything and you the same. Shinsou was your first everything, from your first real best friend to who you lost your virginity to. In your teen years there was an awkward stage as you both didn’t know how to handle the feelings you had for each other and what to label it. Though when you two became adults and one giant argument later, you both realized you couldn’t live without the other. He will forever be your best friend and you to him, but the love you had was more than that. It was more than romantic feelings or even soulmates. You were each other’s person. 
High off his ass, Kaminari giggled at your blissed out face and snorted even harder as Shinsou looked like he was turned to mush. Well, as mushy as a six foot man of pure muscle riddled with tattoos and piercings can look. A blunt still in his hand, he offered in to Shinsou.
“Want some?”
“No one else smoked from it right? I’m trying not to get diseased,” Shinsou half joked.
“Nope, you only get to indirectly kiss me,” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows at the insinuation to which you started to giggle. Shinsou made a face, rather not wanting to imagine kissing anyone but you.
“See! Even your girl finds it funny.”
“She will find anything funny when she’s tipsy.”
Twisting from his chest, you could feel yourself wake up more. 
“Yeah especially your face,” a shiteating grin was apparent on your lips.
Shinsou was quick to grab your cheeks and squish them until said lips were more pronounced. “What did I say about you being a brat.” 
Though formed as a question, it was gritted out as a statement. Peering up at him from under your eyelashes all you could see was the faint outline of his pretty eyes from the black mesh of the mask he still wore. The false anonymity only brought more heat to your core. You attempted to wiggle discreetly in his lap to sedate the ache starting to grow. How easily he turned you on was not fair. 
He still hadn’t let go of your face and you were starting to get embarrassed under Kaminari’s watchful eye. He was clearly enjoying the show, but was respectful enough to not say anything. He knew how your dynamic worked being both a sub and a dom himself. 
Caving in, you mumbled, “‘m sorry.” 
Shinsou knew better to push you to call him Daddy out in public since you rather be something you only called him in private so he accepted your apology. 
He stroked your cheek before planting a kiss right on your forehead over the mask, “good girl.”
Heat brushed on your face, you buried your face back in his chest. Shinsou pulled the mask from his head, letting it hang limply from the back spikes of his mohawk. Absentmindedly, you reached up to pet the shaved sides of his head, almost purring from how nice to texture felt under your fingertips. He let you be as he pinched the blunt between his fingers, taking it from Kaminari’s outstretched hand. 
Shinsou inhaled the bundle of the plant and tipped his head back to blow out the smoke. His adam apple became more pronounced as you watched it bobble as he savored the taste. All the muscles from his neck rippled. The crow inked into the back of his neck to the sides on the display for your hungry eyes to gobble up. His already plump lips puckered only pronounced by the steel hues snake bites pierced into the soft flesh. He truly was beautiful.
From under his nose, his lilac irises flicked over to you. 
“Want some, Kitten?”
No, I want you, you were about to say but nodded your head instead. 
Shinsou with nimble fingers brought the blunt back to his lips. He inhaled another hit but instead of exhaling the smoke, he brought his head down to your level. The grey air still sat behind his teeth, he cradled your cheek and used his thumb to open your mouth. With lips parted, he then breathed the smoke into your mouth. You greedily sucked in the smoke, already high of his taste alone. His hand stayed on your face, encompassing the whole lower half with ease. 
From the whole ordeal, you felt Shinsou’s bulge throb underneath your bottom. Not faring any better, you lightly swiveled in his lap. A whimper almost left your lips, but was interrupted. 
“Fuck that’s hot,” Kaminari sighed out.
Breaking away from you, Shinsou sent a glare to his friend. He was ready to bark at him to keep his fucking mouth shut, but you started to laugh. Knowing you weren’t uncomfortable in any way, Shinsou let himself relax. 
Pecking your lips, he gave the blunt back to Kaminari. 
“Here you go. I hope you enjoyed the little show, but we are going somewhere else.”
At that Shinsou lifted you off his lip to plant your feet back on the ground. You tittered a bit, the blood rushing to your head from being sat up to so quick. The sound of fabric being roughly tugged filled your ears as you spied him putting the mask back over his face. Taking your hand, Shinsou led you from the heavy mass of people in the living room to most likely somewhere more secluded.
“Have fun fucking!” Kaminari called after you two, but it fell upon deaf ears. 
Shinsou led you through winding hallways of the house where the party resided until he found one that wasn’t preoccupied or locked. The room was small with a couch pushed up against the wall and television set along with various gaming consoles set on the opposite side. Whoever thought it was safe to leave their gaming room unlocked was an idiot but you weren’t complaining. 
With a shove, you stumbled into the room. You were about to whip around to bark at Shinsou, but a startled noise left instead as he lifted you up and threw you onto the couch. He closely followed you to crowd you against the cushions. Sprawled out with your back slightly elevated by armrest, Shinsou caged you in with his arms resting on the backboard and another beside your head. 
You gulped. A chuckle rumbled in his chest when he brought the knee sunk into the cushions up until he could feel the heat of your core. He leaned down until his mask was right in your face. 
“Scared?” There was a teasing lilt in his voice while he cocked his head to the side.
“Am not,” you scowled but he only booped your nose. 
Your eyes went cross eyed from looking at his finger and crinkled it when he laughed at your funny face. 
“Might want to rethink that. I could be the serial killer like in all those shitty slasher movies you like.”
You made an offended scoff, “they are not shitty! Plus by now I think I would know how to survive the longest.”
Shinsou seemingly ignored your words as the same hand that touched your nose was rubbing the side of your waist. You shivered at how his warm palm engulfed your side. He dragged his fingers down until they reached the hem of your shirt again. Instead of tugging it in an attempt of modesty, he did it to emphasize his point.
 "Are you sure, don't you know the slut always dies first?"
“Asshole.”
Despite the insult, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought the leg between his to rub against his growing erection. The hand on your waist tightened.
“Oh so you do want to be the slut, huh?” Shinsou’s voice was gruff.
A groan left him when you rubbed harder and followed with an “only for you, Daddy.”
Having enough with your brattiness, he clutched the offending leg and threw it over his hip. Shinsou was now between your thighs, spreading them wide open by his sheer mass. He shoved off his leather jacket and tossed it on the other arm rest. Your eyes drank up the tattoos that engulf his pale skin. 
“Fine. If you want to act like a slut then I’ll treat you like one.” 
With that he took the switchblade attached to the side loop of his pants and flicked it open. Your chest heaved up and down in arousal. Knife play was not something new in your relationship and your pussy throb at how sweet his was with the blade. 
Still kneeling between your legs, Shinsou softly dragged the steel tip from your knee to your inner thigh. He circled the skin there knowing how sensitive you were. You tried your hardest not to clamp them shut in an attempt to get relief on your aching cunt. Shinsou traced a heart on the skin before he looked up at you. 
“Dirty sluts don’t deserve clothes, do they, Kitten?” To others it would have seemed like raunchy dirty talk, but it was also Shinsou’s way of asking permission if it was okay.
You shook your head and followed with, “no they don’t, Daddy.”
Taking that as his cue, he cut the fabric of your skirt clean through. A ripping sound echoed in the room as the skirt was reduced to useless cloth. Not wanting it to get in the way, Shinsou roughly tugged it out from under you and threw it somewhere behind him. Grabbing your thighs, he wrenched you closer to him so he could reach your crop top easier. 
Same with your thigh, he dragged the blade up the middle of your breasts. Lightly he tapped the tip against your clavicle and instinctively your neck craned up. A breathy moan left you while you arched into the metal, wanting more. Much slower, Shinsou dug down to make an incision in the middle of your shirt. He was careful to not nick the thin skin displayed across your sternum. 
The cloth popped away to show your black, lacy bra. Your rapid sighs only accentuated your breasts even more. Shinsou snuck the knife under the center gore about to cut it.
“Wait!” You called, hand circling the hand about to cut away at it. 
He showed a look of concern, thinking he went too far. 
“It’s my favorite bra, don’t ruin it,” you pouted.
His worried visage melted away, only to scowl at how you scared him for no damn reason. “Too bad. I’ll buy you a new one.”
At that, he ripped upwards. The bra snapped in half so your breasts were now on full display. The cold air of the room caused your nipples to pebble. The knife was brought back to skin but this time Shinsou put a little more pressure on the sensitive flesh. 
“Ah!” A surprised whimper left you at the bite of cold metal pressed into your nipples.
He chuckled, “cute.”
“Meanie,” you huffed, pout still on your lips.
“Yeah but you like it when I’m mean.” With his free hand, Shinsou cradled your face and tapped your bottom lip with his thumb. “Now stop pouting, brat. I told you I’ll buy a new one.”
Smiling at getting your way, you kissed his thumb and let him carry on. Getting back to it, Shinsou trailed the switchblade down the line of stomach, stopping right at the hem of your matching panties. He briefly fiddled with the bow before going a little lower until the tip of the blade was a hair away from your clit. The threat of him cutting right into your nerves made more arousal drip out from your drooling pussy. You were sure Shinsou could see the mess you were making of your panties. 
Instead he loosened his grip so he could pap against the exposed slit of your pussy. A gasp caught in your throat when the flat side of the blade tapped your clit. It was barely anything but you were so sensitive and in need of proper stimulation at this point you would take what you could get. 
You wiggled around to get more friction, but Shinsou had pulled away. Subconsciously your hips thrusted up to which Shinsou clamped down on your waist to stop your movements.
“Who knew my girl was a little knife slut. Are you going to make a mess of my knife like you did to your panties?” 
“Daddy, more please,” you begged, wanting him to touch your pussy already. 
He ignored you to continue down to land back at your inner thighs. Shinsou applied more pressure to the blade than last time, an indent being made into the skin but no blood was drawn. You whimpered at the slight sting, wanting — no, craving more. 
“I should fucking carve my name into your thigh since you want to be such a slut,” he hummed as he dug a little bit more, “I like the sound of that. Then everyone will know your mine. You’re my slut, my Kitten.”
Possession was heavy on his tone and his aggressiveness should scare you, but you only felt your heart swell. It wasn’t the first time he talked about forever branding you. This time you wanted him to actually follow through. You accepted you two were meant to be together even after death, so why not?
“Do it.”
He paused and looked back up at you. “What?”
His face was still covered so you reached up to unmask him for the second time tonight. The mask caught on the back of his mohawk again but you didn’t care. Softly, your little hands held Shinsou’s cheeks. You gave him a reassuring grin.
“I trust you.”
“Are you sure, Y/N? It’s pretty permanent and I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because I said I do,” his voice was soft and quivering at the thought of actually hurting you.
You only shook your head and begged, “Shinsou please I want you to mark me as yours.”
Shinsou’s spine shivered in pleasure at your submission and the complete and utter faith you had in him. A man could feel like a god with the devotion in those doe eyes. 
Leaning down to give you a peck, he lingered there so the black of your pupils could meet his. 
“What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”
“Probably save a king or something,” you playfully mused.
He swatted your inner thigh, smirking at how you yelped. “Cheeky brat.” 
Anticipation built as he situated himself so he had a better view of your inner thigh. He tilted you slightly to the right so it was easier for him to place your left thigh over his lap while he still sat between your knees. Though as the blade neared the skin, nervousness replaced the fleeting giddiness. Shinsou could sense this with how you started to play with your fingers.
“I’m scared it will hurt too much,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.
“Hey,” he softly grabbed your jaw so you met with his lavender gaze. “There is nothing to be afraid of. How about this? I’ll do it first on myself and then I’ll do it to you. Sound good?”
You nodded your head as best you could but he tightened his grip.
“I need words, Kitten.” “Yes, Daddy.”
He gave you a little kiss, “good girl.”
Giddiness piled up again at the praise. He always knew the right words to say.
Pulling away from you, he leaned back on his heels and presented his left arm to you. The only skin not inked in with intricate artwork was his inner elbow.  Sitting up a bit so you could get a better look, you watched Shinsou bring his smoky silver switchblade up to his skin. He sliced in with no hesitation. His tendons didn’t even flinch as the flesh parted like rose petals to carve your initials into the muscle of his inner forearm near the juncture of his elbow. The rosy nectar dripped down the length of his bulky forearm. 
You were both mesmerized by how the blood flowed. Shinsou peered up and gave you a dopey smile, eyes a violet haze and unfocused. 
“See? Doesn’t hurt.”
What a candy silk his voice was. 
Shinsou nonchalantly wiped the blood that pooled into his palm against the rough texture of his black, ripped jeans. He didn’t even care of the red caught on the exposed flesh of his thigh like a sparse batch of spider lilies in a field of snow. 
Sliding down the couch, he brought your leg up to his face to kiss the inner thigh he was about to mark up forever. Your thigh jumped when he snuck a feather light glide of his lips against your clothed pussy. 
“Stay still,” he commanded.
“Sorry.”
Humming into your quivering skin to show he forgave you, he pulled away before he got lost between your thighs. That was for later. 
Twirling the knife between his fingers, he was about to dive right in.
“Wait,” he called to himself in a hushed whisper. Making eye contact with you, he continued, “Clean the blood off the blade for me, Kitten. Don’t want your pretty blood to be tainted with mine.”
Coming closer again, you let your tongue flop out as he brought the bloody knife to your lips. At first, you gave it an experimental kitten lick. The taste was coppery and bitter, but not completely unpleasant. Moaning into the blade, you love how taboo and gross it was that you were swallowing his blood. 
Shinsou bit his lip, teeth catching the piercing seeing you in a tiny euphoria. His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head to guide you as he did when you sucked on his cock. 
“There you go, Kitten. Just like that. Be careful not to cut your pretty little tongue, only I can do that.”
You let out a lewd moan at the possessive tone. Shinsou was the only person in the world that you would let hurt you in such sweet ways because at the end of the day you know he loves you as you do he. He would tear this world to sheds at a hint of a tear building in your tear duct. You have no idea if what he feels is similar to when you see him give you a bloody toothed smile after another bar fight, but if it is, then you know that you are truly adored. 
Swiping your tongue up and down the knife until it was clean, you almost whined when he pulled it away. Your eyes were half lidded and unfocused as you gave Shinsou a blissed out smile. God, you were such a fucking angel. 
Shinsou did not even try to cover how his cock was fully erect watching you drink his blood as if it was your last meal, how you licked the blade as you did his cock. His dick begged for it to be the one being sucked instead of his knife, but now wasn’t the time. Maybe he can convince you to give him road head on the way home. Sure would be a way to end the night.
Deeming it clean enough, he shuffled back down so he could finally brand you as his. His left hand rubbed up and down your outer thigh to make sure you were comfortable. Using the high you were on to advantage so it wouldn’t hurt so much, he started cutting. Shinsou was careful with each curve of the ‘S’ he carved into you. A whine left you as the sting wasn’t as muted as you thought it would be. Peering down, you watched as your blood dripped back into the wound until it all flowed down the width of your thigh. 
“Are you okay, Kitten?” Shinsou paused.
“Please keep going,” you whimpered between pain and pleasure.
 By now the sting was something you welcomed as Shinsou moved to writing the ‘H’ into your flesh. You felt every fiber part against the blade as a weak thread does. Licking your lips, you hissed at the final cut. With stuttering breaths, you heaved out a sigh of relief. Avoiding the wounds, Shinsou swirled your warm blood into little hearts against your throbbing thigh. With no shame he brought his blood caked fingers to his lips and licked them.
“Just as sweet as I thought,” he grinned a smile borderlining feral. 
As if he couldn’t get more, he dived back into your inner thighs to drink up to blood that coated your thighs dropped down the stranger’s couch. You could feel how the ball of tongue piercing caught in your skin. He moved his tongue from your thighs to then swipe up the whole length of your slit. Instantly your hands shot down to grip into Shinsou’s hair. Moaning, you could feel how he was mixing the remnant of blood on his wet muscle to the arousal that seeped through your panties. You only thank whatever god you were wearing black. 
“D-daddy!” You hiccuped as he kept digging his piercing into your clit. 
He was making such a pretty mess of you and you didn’t even have your panties off yet. As though he could hear your thoughts, Shinsou stopped making out with your pussy over your underwear to bring the knife to your hips. Stopping for a moment, he cut both sides of your panties, purposely nicking the flesh this time knowing you can handle it.
He ripped the material from under you to throw it where he had thrown your skirt. In apology he kissed the injured hip bones and trailed those kisses back down to the top of your pussy. Shinsou stayed away right from the area you needed him most. You cried out a plea for him to stop dragging his mouth just a breath away from your slit.  
Growing impatient, you tugged his hair in hopes to steer his head to your cunt. It only earns you swat on the ass and him trapping both hands on your tummy with one of his hands crushing your wrists.
“Daddy, please!” You wiggled around in a mini tantrum that he wasn’t letting things go your way.
He drew away from your right thigh where he left a garden of violet and poppy hickeys. “Please what, Kitten? I don’t know what you want from you unless you use your words.”
You whined at how mean he was being. “You know what I want, you meanie!”
Shinsou spanked you again, palm catching the same spot causing you to cry out from the burn. “Don’t be bratty with me, you are well fucking aware it won’t get you anywhere.”
Sniffling, you tried to calm yourself down and gave in. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, please eat me out, touch me, I don’t care! I need you so bad.”
“Anything for my little girl,” Shinsou groaned.
With pleas so pretty like that, he couldn’t help but give in and dive right in. Immediately, he brought your puffy clit into his mouth to suck on the bundles of nerves. Your back arched off the couch with a cry. You didn’t know if you wanted more or for pleasure to stop, but your body squirmed either way. Though you couldn’t get fair with how Shinsou had your hands pinned and heavy grip on your waist.
His tongue swirled around your bud. He hummed into your cunt as you kept whimpering and moaning at the constant stimulation. The way his mouth vibrated against your sensitive flesh only made it worse. The ball of his piercing came back again to jab right into your clit. You were just happy he wasn’t wearing his vibrating one otherwise you would have come in a minute tops. Right now, Shinsou took his time with you. Basically making out with your cunt at this point. 
He drank up every drop of your arousal as he did your blood which both were pooling around your bottom. Dropping down lower, he toyed his tongue around your hole. It was all becoming too much. He dipped in and you would never get used to how the bulbous piercing felt wriggling against your walls. Though it wasn’t enough. You needed more.
“Daddy, S-Shinsou please, I can’t take it. More, more,” your words started to slur together. 
He only moaned in response, loving how you keep painting his face with your slick. At that you kicked feet at the overstimulation. Shinsou lovingly laughed into your clit at how your little feet kicked out from the pleasure. You had no right being this cute and sexy at the same time. 
With his sweet laugh and one last harsh suck on your clit, you fell apart. A scream left you as you came, white flashing behind your eyes. You had nothing to ground you as your hands stayed restrained. Shinsou kept working you through your orgasm, jaw bobbling with how he ate you up as the wolf did to little red. 
“Too much, Daddy it’s too much!” You begged, tears streaming down your face.
You made eye contact with Shinsou who finally pulled away from your cunt with a wet pop. 
“You can take it.” 
Was all he said before he went back in, but this time his finger prodded your fluttering hole. Like he said, you took his whole finger with no problem. As his pointer finger slid in, the cold metal of the rings before his second knuckle and at the bottom rubbed your walls. Wanting to stretch you more, Shinsou added his middle finger into the mix. He scissored your pussy, keeping his tongue playing with your clit. 
He kissed your clit three times a row before he came up for what you assume is air. His whole lower half of his face was covered in your wetness, the arousal shimmering under the shitty, fluorescent lights. 
Taking his grip of your wrists, brings himself up to your face to kiss you. Instantly, you close your eyes and wrap your free arms around his neck. The tangy taste of your cum on his tongue doesn’t bother, not when he’s kissing you so roughly like this. You pulled at the strands of his mohawks when he added another finger into your cunt. 
You moaned and whined into his mouth, sugary sounds he swallowed and savored. Every metal ring on his finger was rubbing against your walls, stretching them even further. Especially the large skull ring on his ring made a pop sound when it breached your pussy. 
Shinsou gave you a peck before he moved to whisper absolute filth into your ear. “Sure love to make a mess of my rings and some stranger’s couch, huh? I should make you lick up your mess.”
You moaned at the thought. Shinsou laughed into the skin of your neck, sucking and biting. He knew you all too well.
While his finger prepared you for his cock, his thumb started to rub circles into your already abused clit. The stimulation being too much, you started to writhe, trying to escape. Shinsou clamped a hand down on your hip, but you kept squirming. 
Growling, he gripped your throat and shot up to glare at you. His clutch was tight enough to keep you still but not enough to actually cut off your breathing. The tips of his fingers almost met at the nape of your neck.
“Fucking behave,” he seethed with clenched teeth. 
You could only whine in response, not able to form proper sentences. You could feel your orgasm building again. Your hands wrapped around his wrist, hoping he understood what you wanted. 
He squeezed his fingers against the sides of your neck, “is this what you want, Kitten.”
You babbled words between yes and daddy, not able to speak full words. Adding a little more pressure and upping the tempo on his fingers, Shinsou watched as you fell apart before his eyes. 
Adoration heavy in his stare as you came again for him. This time was more intense than the one before. No noise left the lips that were parted. You could only spasm, nails biting into Shinsou’s wrist. Not that he minded. 
It took you a couple minutes to come back down but Shinsou was still sluggishly curling his fingers in your clenching walls. 
“Shinsou, no,” you dragged out a whine, “too much.”
“Sorry, Kitten.”
He slipped his appendages out slowly. When they were gone from your pussy, it felt weird for your cunt to be so empty. You wanted to be filled, but with something bigger. 
Blinking the left over tears in your eyes, you stare up at Shinsou, head fuzzy. You spy how he was still fully clad in his ripped black jeans and just as black t-shirt, leather jack long forgotten on the other side of the couch. Your thighs jumped at how clothed he was compared to you. It left you feeling vulnerable and even more submissive. You loved it. 
The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Shinsou.
“Do you still want more, Kitten? Did you not have enough. What a greedy slut I have,” his mocking was like a present wrapped with silkened bows. 
“I always want more if it’s from you, Daddy.”
“Fuck,” Shinsou whispered at how you looked up at him with such adoration. How could he deny you when you looked like an angel with your swollen lips and teary eyes?
Desperate for relief, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He lugged both his pants and boxers down enough so he could pull out his cock. You opened your legs wider if even possible to welcome him between them. Anticipation wracked through Shinsou at the thought of sinking into you. Still wanting to be safe, he reached into his back pocket where he always kept a condom only for it to turn up empty.  
“Shit, I don't have a condom,” he grumbled. His cock throbbed for release, but he could wait to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. 
Seeing his predicament, you brought him closer, “it’s fine I’m on birth control and I trust you, Shinsou.”
“Really?” He looked so shocked at you even suggesting to go raw.
“I mean your initials are forever ingrained in my skin and mine yours, I don’t know how much more trustworthy you can get,” you giggled and he laughed with you. 
“Can’t argue with that, Kitten.”
Frustrated with how the mask was still caught on the back of his hair, Shinsou moved to rip the blasted thing off.
“Wait!” You screeched, startling him.
Obviously confused, he blinked at you, “what is it?”
Warmth crept onto your face, eyes dancing to the side as you fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “keep the mask on.”
He furrowed his thick brows before a nasty grin displayed all his teeth. “What a dirty little girl you are, just for me, right?”
Covering your face with your hands, you groaned in embarrassment. Shinsou only gently moved your little hands away from your face.
“I want an answer, Sweetheart.”
“Just for you,” you said. 
He reached back and tugged the mask down so it was covering his face from your view. While you were distracted by watching his large bicep tense and flex, Shinsou tapped the head of his cock against your sensitive clit pulling a lewd yelp from you. You were still very much sensitive. 
Bringing his hulking frame closer to yours, he grabbed the base of cock to place it at your hole. He slowly slid into your cunt. His head forcefully pushed in with an audible pop. Even after all the times he fucked you, you could never get used to his size.
You moaned as his mere cockhead stretched your cunt passed capacity. How you ever take the whole thing, you have no idea. Little by little he pushed his cock more into you and your thighs shook at the strain. He felt so much better raw. You could feel every vein and ridge of his pretty dick. 
“Almost there, Baby. You are so good for me,” Shinsou whispered into your shoulder.
 He wasn’t faring any better. Even though he said words of encouragement to you, he was trying all he could to not blow his load in three fucking seconds. Your cunt felt so good without a condom. You were so warm and wet and god, fucking tight. 
Gripping your waist, Shinsou slammed you down the rest of the way. You squealed at how rapidly he bottomed out in you. Your little cunny was already so sore from the stretch but still drooled for more. Hips bucking for more, Shinsou was almost losing his damn mind with how you tried to bounce on his cock.
Putting you both out of your misery, Shinsou pulled almost all the way out just to slam back into you. You both moaned at the same time at how his hip bones banged against your thighs. You forgone the cuts in your thigh as you moaned at the rapid drag of Shinsou’s cock in your clenching cunt.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Shinsou gritted, “you look so little under me.”
You could only grapple onto his shoulder unable to answer or move against his large mass. His board frame swallowed you up and it weren’t for your legs wrapped against his waist, it would look as if he was fucking the couch and not you. You wanted to hide your face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, but he was so big all you could do was stuff your face between his chest. 
Shinsou always loved how tiny you were compared to him, it always gave him this euphoric rush with how easily he could protect you as easily as he could break you. And despite this, you handed yourself over to him with soft hands and a proud smile. 
So deep in pleasure, you ignored how his jeans irritate the skin of your wound. His probably wasn’t any better but that didn’t matter. Shinsou kept fucking into you, bruising your hips at this point with his thrusts. 
You could feel he was just as close as you with how he became more sloppy with his thrusts. Instead of laggardly dragging his cock out of your pussy — walls squeezing to keep him close just to slam back into you, he was shallowly humping into your cunt. 
Along the way, his hand made a home out of your throat, keeping you right where he wanted. 
“Daddy harder, you— hah! — you can squeeze harder,” you mumbled out, just wanting to cum already. At this point you don’t care how greedy you’re being. 
Shinsou complied and smiled with how you whimpered for him
“I really am a lucky man. I love you, Kitten.” 
You babbled out, ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I’m going to cum’ until they all jumble out in one big mess. 
Shinsou started to press harder into, ready for you both to reach your end. 
“Wait,” he commanded, contradicting his movements.
You cry harder because you don’t know if you could. With the hand gripping your hip, his thumb moved to rub harsh circles into your clit not helping your predicament. Pap, pap, pap went he hips against you soaked thighs groans toppled off his bitten lips. 
Knowing you two were at your end, you ripped off his mask wanting to see his face when he came. Your fingers raked through his surprisingly soft hair despite the hair gel. Shinsou reached down to kiss you, groaning into your drooling mouth. 
“Cum for me, my pretty girl.” And as if his word was law, you did.
He shortly followed, slamming his hips so his cock was deep into your cunt. His cum embedding deep inside you, claiming your walls as his. After finally being in your pussy, he doesn’t think he could ever let you go. Not like he planned to before. You two were meant to be together, he knew that well.
Still clutched onto him, he kisses the top of your head as you try to come down. Shinsou kept his cock in you to not overwhelm you. Also, he doesn’t think he's quite ready to leave your warm, gummy walls just yet. When your breathing went back to normal, he pulled you away from his chest. 
With the hand that’s not keeping from crushing you, he pets the side of your hair with a love stucken simper. First he pecks your nose, then the apple of cheeks, then your forehead, chin, your eyelids and lastly your lips.
“My good girl. My sweet, pretty girl. I love you so much, thank you for trusting so much,” he whispered to you like this was a secret too precious for the blaring world to hear. 
You giggled at him being so sappy and soft, something so unusual compared to how he treated everyone else. He was your person as you were his. 
“I love you too, Toshi. Of course, I trust you, you're my best friend.”
He gives a gruff chuckle at that, “I think we are way past best friends, Kitten.”
You rolled your eyes at him, “we can be in love and still be best friends.”
“Hmm if you say so.”
Flopping down on you, he rested his head on the swell of your breast, eyes closing. Though he was careful to not crush you with all his weight, he caressed your waist. You almost purred at his palm massaging your muscles. 
You basked in the bliss until you remembered.
“Hey you asshole, you cut all my clothes! How am I supposed to go home butt ass naked,” you scowled down at him and whacked his head. 
Grumbling from being hit, he kept his eyes closed but had a just as grumpy expression, “I’ll find you clothes and you can wear my jacket.” 
He peeked open one eye to see your face light up at being able to wear the jacket he never let anyone else wear. You truly didn’t know how whipped he is for you. 
“Now sleep,” Shinsou muttered, wrapping his arm around your waist to snuggle you closer like you were some teddy bear. You couldn’t argue with that and closed your eyes with him. Sleep weighed heavy on your bones.
And in the tranquility of a distant thumping of bass and the pungent odor of alcohol, you both made your own piece of heaven here, twin cut wounds bonded together by spilled blood.
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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 8 months ago
Text
Request: Victor Vale x Reader
Victor Vale x reader
Word Count: 1139
@dxestars : well, hello there! i read your victor vale fanfiction and was wondering if you could write another? maybe one in which serena suggests eli to kidnap the reader to get victor's attention, he doesn't know if it'll work (bc victor is thought to be a sociopath) but does so nonetheless. it turns out it works like a charm and victor confesses his feelings and all? thank you!! 💞💞💞
“Didn’t you say that there was someone that caught Vale’s attention back before all of this shit started?” Serena asked one day as they were plotting.
Eli gritted his teeth, mentally calculating for the millionth time if it was really worth the effort to have a partner in his scheme if she was going to keep talking and interrupting his thought process. “What?” he managed to force out past his clenched jaw.
“I don’t know; when you told me about your ridiculous backstory you mentioned that he had a lab partner or something that he wouldn’t shut up about.” She shrugged. “Maybe you could use them to get him where you want him.”
“That won’t--” He exhaled sharply through his nose much like an angry bull would. “Victor doesn’t have . . . attachments like everyone else. That wouldn’t work.”
“How do you know?” she demanded. “And besides, I don’t see you coming up with anything better.”
~
Of course you didn’t know it, but that little conversation--or, shall we say, argument--was the reason you woke up with a splitting headache struggling to remember what happened. You’d gone to a bar with some friends, one of those places that served surprisingly decent food considering it was all cooked on a tiny hot plate or in a shitty deep frier that’d been around for at least fifteen years. You’d gone to the restroom after having a few too many drinks, and . . . That was all you could recall. Everything else you might have remembered was washed away by the pounding in your skull.
You’d heard stories like this from survivors of unspeakable things. You never thought it might happen to you, but you really couldn’t think of any other way to explain it. Someone had slipped something into your drink, something that’d knocked you out and left you with this lovely little jackhammer inside your skull.
Fuck.
You wiggled your wrists in an attempt to loosen the bindings that strapped you to a rather uncomfortable chair. They didn’t feel like rope; they felt harder. 
Must be plastic. Zip Ties?
A loud bang brought your attention to the room at large instead of the laser focus you’d had on your not-so-metaphorical shackles. It surprised you to see a face you recognized from a long time ago attached to the figure that was strolling through the empty warehouse you were trapped in.
Eli? No, it can’t be; he was such a nice guy back in college. I never did anything to piss him off. So you echoed your thoughts allowed by calling, “Eli?”
“The one and only,” he grinned. His smile was the same as it had been all those years ago. Slightly unsettling. Something about his neverending charm had always set you on edge; it was part of the reason you had clung so tightly to Victor’s calm presence.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Funny that you phrase it like that,” he laughed. “Hell is exactly where you are right now. Our own little Temptress to lure out the Devil himself, as it were.”
You stared at him in blatant confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, a certain old friend of yours is proving to be a real thorn in my side, so I need you to get him out of hiding. Victor and I need to have a little chat.”
“Victor?” you questioned incredulously. “I haven’t spoken to him in years!”
“Now, now,” he chided. “Lying is a sin. Good thing it’s my job to get rid of nasty things like that. I know you kept in contact with him after he went to prison.”
Your heart stuttered. No one was supposed to know about that. After the first letter you’d sent, Victor had requested that you always send messages as different people from different addresses, so it wouldn’t be traced back to you. You’d chalked it up as general paranoia, but now you weren’t sure it had been. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Nothing,” a new voice broke the tense atmosphere. “He’s not going to do a damn thing to you, because this has nothing to do with you.” It was Victor. The paleness of his body in sharp contrast to the gloom that was the warehouse around you.
“Oh, I think it does, Vic.” Eli’s smile had become something almost feral. Unhinged. “You see. I didn’t realize back then that you two were so close, so imagine my surprise when I started digging only to find that you kept in touch after all. These. Years.”
“Let her go, Eli. She’s got no place in your little quest to cleanse all of us. She’s not like us. She doesn’t have any powers.”
You squeezed your eyes shut for an instant. So that’s what this is about. Eli has lost his mind over these stupid powers. You knew about them, of course. Victor had told you in a vague sort of way in one of his letters; his findings hadn’t been nearly as negative as he’d first thought in that little experiment back in college.
“What are you talking about?” Ever the showman, Eli flung his arms out to the side dramatically as he asked that. “She’s got the most impressive power of us all! She managed to make our own little Grinch’s heart grow three sizes all on her own! And don’t try to say that she didn’t,” he waved a finger at his nemesis, “because you wouldn’t have come all this way if that were the case.”
“I’ve never said she didn’t matter. It would be stupid to try to lie,” Victor replied cooly. “I care about her more than anyone else on this absurd planet. But I won’t allow her to be dragged into your sick game. She’s innocent.”
“Was Eve innocent when she listened to the Devil in the Garden?” Eli challenged. “It’s my job to--”
“It’s not your job to do anything!” Victor snapped. He clenched his hand, and Eli fell to the floor gasping for breath.
Eli’s eyes were clenched as tightly as they would go against the pain as Victor deftly used a knife to remove the ties. “You won’t get away with this.”
“I already have.” He turned to you. “Get out of here,” he murmured so Eli couldn’t hear over the sounds of his own suffering. “There’s a black car out front. Get in, and they’ll take you somewhere safe.”
You squeezed his forearm. “Be careful, Vic.”
“When am I not?” There was a tiny little smirk on his face.
“I could think of a few times,” you replied as if this weren’t the most dangerous situation you’d experienced in your life.
“Go. I won’t be far behind.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” 
After all, you can’t say someone’s the most important thing in your life and just skip off, right?
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adorerdraco · 9 months ago
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Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader
Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !
Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes 
Words: 1.8K
A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD
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It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him. 
Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.
Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk. 
A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.
All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?” 
Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents. 
As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”
You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.
“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”
You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.
“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”
“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”
“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”
You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.
“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.
“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”
His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.
Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.
That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.
“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.
“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”
“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.
“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”
“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”
By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.
“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”
Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.
“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.
“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.
Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.
“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”
And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.
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miriossunshine · 9 months ago
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💖 matchup for @tameblackbear 💖
“Hiya! may I please have a bnha villain (male) matchup? :)) tank you so much ∞
APPEARANCE: I'm not sure if appearance is important for matchups but I thought why not. Anyways, I'm 157 cm tall (which is 5'2 I think) and I'm neither chubby nor skinny; I sort of have a more athletic build. I have middle length darkish brown hair, with a few lighter brown natural highlights (my hair gets bleached easily by the sun) its also slightly frizzy and wavy. My eyes are green and I have quite pale skin with some freckles on my face. I also have dimples and slightly chubby cheeks.
PERSONALITY: I'm an INFJ-T living with a family of mostly extroverts. I get drained easily from social events, but also try to stay engaged because I barely ever go out of my comfort zone so best to take advantage of it. I'm very loyal, and have always had a reasonably small friendship group because I find it hard to make long-lasting connections. I guess I can be sort of quiet, but a lot of that stems from people not taking me seriously or straight up ignoring me when I speak (which can be annoying) I have a sort of sarcastic, dry and weird sense of humour I guess but I find anything funny. Once you know me and I'm comfortable around you that's when I can be myself and I can be full on weird mode. I also zone out a lot and have wild daydreams, but not many people know this they just think I'm staring intently at the floor. Im an Aries as which I some what relate to. Im very passionate and I think it can come off as obsessive to people who don't understand. im a gentle person...but if you upset me I can speak my mind (and with all that argument practice going on inside my head you won't stand a chance) Im also very stubborn and know what I want, however im not closed minded and listen to others.
HOBBIES/LIKES: going on bike rides with this one friend of mine (because we always end up in the strangest locations) star gazing! I love love love this and especially on really crispy nights when the sky is completely clear. reading peoples tarot is always fun (sometimes I like to mess around as well and tell them something they most certainly don't want to hear). Admiring Eren Yaeger and Levi Ackerman (because they bootiful) reading and watching tv religiously. Baking, because I have a huge sweet tooth. Having very strange and in depth conversations about the most random topics. Saying random things at the most random times to confuse people. Staring at people (I dont know why I promise I'm not scary)
DISLIKES: I used to love horse riding...until I fell off and hit my head so now I'm scared. People who don't smile/ say hi back at you when you made the effort to smile at them as a social awkward being!!! Things that have pungent armours because I have a very good sense of smell. ACOTAR and TOG book series (don't get me started) when people tickle me because I usually end up actually hurting them. And nothing else I dont think.”
💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨
hiiii~ yes yes ofc!! 💞💞
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i ship you with twice!
aHHH gosh u guys would be so cute together~ i think he’d try his best to get you to go out of your comfort zone for things bc he’s so supportive of you! jin is also fairly extroverted so he appreciates that you understand how to handle his energy!
if anyone ignores you, jin makes it almost obnoxiously known that you had been interrupted and had something to say fbfndnsnsn >< he gestures with his hands and loudly exclaims to everyone to listen to you speak ( ̄∇ ̄)
you’re such a loyal couple omg. jin isn’t used to the romantic attention nor does he have close relationships with anyone besides the league of villains, so he completely understands you having a small friend group. you both have a cute small family of friends and are just a v supportive couple ( ;∀;)
u guys laugh at eveRYTHING. you have an absurd amount of inside jokes that derived from the weirdest conversations between you two ( ̄w ̄) (and u both definitely love to annoy the lov by quoting said inside jokes with zero context-) jin loves your weird side!! he feels so comfortable around you and is honored when you’ve opened up enough to be yourself around him 🥺
jin always notices when you’re daydreaming, as his focus is always mainly on you. he’ll give you a soft tap on your shoulder or poke your chubby cheek to bring you back to reality, so that he can hear all about the scenarios your imagination created!!! he sits with his chin resting on his folded arms as he fondly listens to you talk about your daydreams~ (*´꒳`*) he also hopefully asks you “were you thinking of me?” and calls himself “the man of your dreams” when he catches you absentmindedly smiling -3-
he really admires and looks up to you for being able to voice your opinions!! jin would defend you against anything but he appreciates that you’re able to stand up for yourself when you’ve been wronged in some way!! c:
jin is so appreciative that you’re open minded and listen to others. he feels like a burden on you when he vents about things but your reassurance and gentle nature comfort him so quickly ;^;
u can’t tell me he wouldn’t be such a romantic bf- hes so down for stargazing! jin will prepare a picnic, and set out the cutest little spot secluded from society where you can see the stars perfectly. he gets really flustered if you cuddle up next to him for warmth but eagerly wraps his arms around you as you gaze at the night sky 😭💞
i can picture you reading his tarot cards, saying something absurdly negative is gonna happen to him and his dramatic ass loSING IT- he starts freaking out until you quickly assure him that you were joking, and give him the accurate depiction of the cards, much to his relief HDJSJDJDJSJSJ ( ´ ▽ ` )
he’s a pouty boy when you watch attack on titan together and you start fangirling over eren or levi -w- he gives you puppy dog eyes until you tell him he’s just as handsome as your anime crushes hehe~
jin practically studies cookbooks to perfect your favorite desserts omg ;;; he’s determined to bake you a perfect rendition of your fav sweets but it usually doesn’t turn out that great- he settles for helping with prep work while you do the rest when you bake together ^ - ^
he takes all of your dislikes as seriously as the things you love. intense aromas? he’s already got nose plugs on hand for you. someone doesn’t smile back at you when you politely smiled at them, yourself? jin kisses your cheek to make you feel better/remind you how lovely of a person he thinks you are. he just loves you so so much i can’t get over it >///<
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stonerbughead · 12 months ago
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maria watches friday night lights (#4)
season 2, pt 2!! (2x08-2x15)
ugh Matt is really having his Being A Stupid Teenage Boy season huh?
-lol love a good naked dude being chased scene — in this case, Smash on his recruiting trip being chased around by a potential future teammate. Classic.
(it’s kinda cute that Matt came to pick him up tho)
- the latest in season 2 being off the fucking rails: really? Riggins’ new digs include a meth lab on wheels??
-Landry confessing to murdering someone and then having his sheriff dad drag him out of the station to go home is the whitest shit EVER. Like, Landry is literally *trying* to be punished and they just won’t punish his white, cop-kid ass. ‘Murica. (I mean don’t get me wrong: it WAS self defense against someone literally stalking and trying to rape Tyra, but the point still stands that if Landry was a black kid he’d have been tried as an adult and convicted no doubt)
-YESSSSS a MySpace shoutout! we love to see it
“I hate you” - Santiago (and also me) @ Buddy Garrity
-omg Coach Taylor noticing that things aren’t good at home for Riggins and taking him in, my heart!
-Wow in just one scene Riggins charmed baby Grace, warned Tami’s sister not to shame women for eating a lot (“it can lead to anorexia, especially in girls”) and then offered to go out to the store to get baby formula in the pouring rain. What a man.
-and yes, Shelly, you fully grown woman, it IS a bad idea to lust after a TEENAGE BOY
-wow Riggins protecting Julie from the SUPER DRAMATIC TORNADO that made me laugh. Do we get to have a Riggins-Julie friendship??? bc I’d be down. We need more friendships.
-Thank you, Tami, saying “EW” to her sister watching Riggins work out! Someone has sense to know a fully grown woman shouldn’t be lusting after a teenager! Julie can lust if she wants tho, that’s age appropriate.
-DYING at Landry being aghast that Tyra’s never heard of West Side Story.
-oh god, Lyla — it is totally fair to assume your mom would tell your dad she’s getting remarried, especially if she knew you’d be seeing him — so I’m sorry you’re the one who accidentally set off whatever nonsense Buddy is gonna pull now that he knows his ex wife is “marrying that treehugger.”
“Who’s that?” “Some douchebag named Chip. who names their kid Chip anyway?” Same, Tyra, same.
-Landry, one of my biggest pet peeves is asking someone out while they’re on the clock. Like, come on! let Tyra work, boy.
-Jesus Christ it’s like everywhere Julie looks, she has to see Matt making out with someone. That’s rough.
-and oop Matt you busted bc Julie actually knows who Carlotta is!
-once a cheater, always a cheater, Buddy. And yes to Pam for being like “nah bye I’m happy now, it is over.” You treated her like garbage so here we are, sir!
-hilarious that Landry is the one who ends up throwing the first punch that gets the post-tornado, school-crossover tensions to finally boil over
-I like that they show both the fall formal and the party where everyone who didn’t go to the formal is. Nice.
-Aw poor Julie got drunk af to deal with all her feelings. This really is the season where they have Julie and Matt being sixteen year olds in the most painful ways. So maybe it’s good they’re not together during this tho I’m still looking forward to when the tide turns their way again.
-anyway, Tim is a good friend for getting the creep who thought he was “one beer away from getting laid” off of Julie.
-And....in true Texas dad fashion, Eric Taylor misinterprets everything! Noooo. We can’t have nice things.
-This Noelle-Smash partnership is definitely an interesting pairing. Two very ambitious football people courting all these recruiters while Smash’s mom side eyes them in the corner? Hilarious.
-omg not this Oklahoma tech recruiter harassing smash’s mom in the grocery store! GTFO here! Give her some fucking personal space. They really do such a good job of showing as much of the toxic shit about football culture as the inspiring, big moments.
-Aw and I love that Tami tried to help Mama Smash get the guy to go away. It’s such a familiar scene, women helping each other get a dude harassing them away. And then they have a heart to heart in the parking lot? Love that.
-omg what a throwback that Shelly TAPED OVER Eric’s football game to tape a NEW EPISODE of The Office! Love it. “Y’all should get a TiVo.”
-omg watching Tami and Eric work out arguments is so beautiful, they communicate very well! We stan a good marriage.
-wow seeing the other coach from tornado school lose his shit publicly after he knocked down Riggins was uh....wild???? This is the second time he put his hands on Riggins!
-awww Eric actually coming to apologize to riggins for overreacting about Julie when he hears the real story??? Love it.
-Weevil from Veronica Mars shows up as a friend of Santiago’s? Of course.
-WOW and Logan from Gilmore girls as a Christian radio host...tracks.
“Is that your way of telling her you like her?” Jason making a surprisingly astute observation about Tim. (And Lyla.)
-yo why would you invite your daughter’s boyfriend’s family over for dinner just to say they shouldn’t date? (And bc it’s an interracial relationship.) Southern culture is wild to me lol
-wow the racist coach from last season is now off spouting his mouth about how “no wife of mine would be working with a kid at home.” I love that Eric calls him out as sounding stupid and ignorant — you better!
-hearing that Lyla burned her cheerleading uniform is one of the most badass things she’s done so far tbh along with that dealership destruction
-off the rails update: 2x12 was toooo much!! Like, Jesus between Smash’s sister getting harassed at the movie theater by the racists who hate on smash and Noelle...and this plotline with Santiago and his old friends trashing Buddy’s place...it’s like, can we breathe.
-I could not be more excited for Carlotta to leave and another teenage boy with adult woman relationship to end.
-wow can’t believe the plotline where Riggins stole $3000 from a drug dealer isn’t ending well for him. And now Smash is getting arrested bc of those racist guys from the movie theater episode? One recap I read said that too many of this season’s plots feel contrived and I think that sums it up.
-is there any character who HASN’T worked at Buddy Garrity’s dealership at this point?!
-and yikes at all the other salespeople being mad that a salesperson in a wheelchair was hired...y’all mad ugly and ableist for that
-Tyra and Landry are....confusing
-Wait Logan from GG is an actual preacher and not just a Christian radio host? CREEPY. And he kissed Lyla? A lot to unpack there.
-lol Tim trying to woo Lyla is kinda funny to watch simply bc Tim is clearly so confounded by rejection
-I love how much space they give for Smash’s sister’s pain in the Noelle-Smash theater incident. A lesser show wouldn’t have centered her as much.
-is it mean of me to say Jason is boring AF most of the time
-yeah this dreads girl is seemingly way more compatible with Landry than Tyra yikes! Like she made him a power metal mix cd???
-wow this Smash storyline where mouthing off to the press is what gets him suspended....really checks out bc teenage boys are dumb
-I love Tami as a volleyball coach and getting to see another sport! Also as someone who’s been on a losing team I know that feeling of finally winning a game!!! Go Dillon volleyball!!! (Am I maybe currently writing a Bughead fic based on my underdog field hockey experiences? ;) yes yes I am)
-Oh shit now Saracen’s at the nihilistic Nothing Matters phase of teenage angst. Right on schedule!
-lol these two short haired blondes (white dreads Jean and Tyra) being in a love triangle with Landry is wild
-Omg jean just said, “are you a friend or are you competition?” She is not playing!
-I love Riggins dragging Saracen to practice
“I don’t want you to become at an at-risk youth” -Landry teasing Saracen while also sincerely caring about him is some of the best friendship banter on this show. The accuracy 😂
-It seems like Julie gets a lot of hate? But I think I have such a soft spot for Julie bc I was a bitchy teenager with undiagnosed mental health disorders and I just wish so much #growth for her! Also I really do miss her and Saracen’s relationship, I’m so excited I’m almost at S3 where it seems like it’s happening again?
-LOL this guy at the dmv is the first person in Dillon to be like, “no I hate football.” That tracks.
-wow Saracen is getting driven to the hospital to make sure his grandma is okay by the sex worker who was just giving him a lap dance. Amazing.
-also I hope grandma is okay!
-okay Tyra throwing her hat in the ring for Landry at the last minute? Idk I think Jean deserves the win but there’s no way it’ll happen bc she’s a guest actor?!
-awww Saracen’s abandonment issues coming out whiles he in the tub after being sobered up by Eric Taylor. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” 😭 and “your daughter left me for a better guy” - will take that crumb — first mention of Julie out of Saracen’s mouth in a minute
-hey, Landry, my friend: flirting with a girl (Jean) to get her outside then dumping her immediately is kind of a wild bait and switch. But I get it, he’s been in love with Tyra for a long time and Tyra IS right — they had a very fucked up start to their relationship so it makes sense she needed a minute to process her ~feelings~. however I definitely identified closer to a jean in my high school experience L O L (minus the unacceptable white dreads)
-these Julie and Tami driving scenes are painfully accurate, btw. Love them.
-wow the scene of Smash hyping everyone up, the adrenaline/energy of the team cheering with helmets and a classic “clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose” - then the whole team running out onto the field and leaving an empty locker room with just Smash breaking down into tears....#art
-alright y’all I’m gearing up for the last episode of S2! Thanks to @lockitin for reminding me this is the writers’ strike season — I was in eighth grade then and remember being pissedddd about the shortened fourth season of “the office” — so I’m fully prepared for the abruptness to come.
-I love when they parallel showing the white church and the black church
-and Tim going to church just to see Lyla makes me laugh
-ooooof Jason you cannot put on this waitress you had a one night stand with the fact that this could be your only chance to have a baby!!! Omg this poor woman who just pointed out she, too, is NINETEEN.
-wait so is Riggins doing a sports show on a Christian radio station? What?
“I think you’re really hot. Your long hair reminds me of Jesus” -Christian girls being horny for Riggins LOL
-awww Saracen being like “okay Landry you’re gonna impress Tyra right now” before that football play was a cute friendship moment for those two
-aww I love how this Smash storyline is turning out with Coach Deeks whose had his eye on him for six years my heart 😭
-also unclear to me whether Logan Huntzberger the Preacher is a fully grown adult dating a high school senior?? Biggest teen drama pet peeve once again! Stop this!
-Tami is my heroine for just leaving Eric at the restaurant fighting with her ex. “see you at home, honey!”
-I’m sorry, is Jason gonna like actually convince this girl to have a baby with her one night stand at 19??? Oh lol wait THAT ended up being the cliffhanger of the whole season? Fucking hilarious.
well I made it through season 2!!! Super psyched for Season 3, Jay has been hyping me up for it. See y’all next time! (I’ll try to post more for season 3 bc this accidentally got long af.)
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askmyboys · a year ago
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Dean and Jason
Names: Dean Williamson and Jason Bishop | Genders: Male | Ages: Dean is 32 and Jason is 34 | Heights: Dean is 5'0" and Jason is 7'5" | Species/Race: Humans | Eye Colors: Dean's eye color is Forest Green (both their eye colors are going to be for their meanings mostly), and Jason has heterochromia- his left eye is Steel Gray, his right eye is Shadow Black. | Hair Colors: Dean's is Ginger (his hairstyle is a messy undercut), and Jason's hair color is black (and his hairstyle is an extreme spiky quiff) | Appearances: Dean l o v e s hoodies, he has a full collection of hoodies and its about all he wears tbh, his main hoodie is one that has the words "Fuck Off" written on the front and "Fuck You" on the back of it, he wears some ripped blue jeans to go along with it- most of his pants are ripped and the non-hoodie clothing is also ripped mostly (thats not the reason he mainly wears hoodies tho, their just more comfy ya know?), he also wears combat boots as well (oh and as a bonus he also loves tank tops- he just wears hoodies more), whenever he DOES wear his tank tops however- he usually has white bandages wrapped around his wrists and down his arms a bit (you know- like how some of those wrestlers wear sometimes), he's not SUPER muscular but you can tell he works out for sure, he also has a lot of scars on him- nothing TOO prominent- it just looks like he got into a lotta fights mostly (and of course, he has a circle beard that matches his hair color) Jason usually wears tank tops mostly, his jeans either have chains hanging down them or their ripped jeans, and of course combat boots as well- sometimes if he REALLY feels like it, he'll put on a... "fancier" outfit, those outfits are usually leather jackets with spikes on them, black fingerless driving gloves (ya know those ones that expose the fingers for one obvs but also they kinda reveal the knuckles too), the pants stay the same in both his main and secondary outfits tbh, he has a full beard, and oh BOY does this man look strong- he looks like he can easily lift a thousand pounds (not that GROSS OVERLY muscle-y look either btw just wanna make that v clear but he just looks- Idk- is beefy the right term to use? Lmao- you can tell I dont know shit bout exercise or any terms), he also has a TON of scars on him even on his face, he's covered almost head to toe in scars- big boy's been through a lot. | Personalities: Dean is a rough rowdy boy who won't take shit from anyone even IF he knows they could easily kick his ass, absolutely against authority- don't tell him what to do and stay out of his way while he's doing it or else he'll mess you up! He LOVES to fight tbh in general so sometimes he'll go picking a fight for just no reason if he's bored enough that is, he l o v e s to cause trouble and honestly hearing people scream in frustration at what he did or caused is always funny, he likes to pull "pranks" on people as well to frustrate them further, honestly you might as well consider him a masochist at this point because he seems to enjoy pain well enough, absolutely without a d o u b t LOVES mindless carnage, p much a bad boy? like jfc- this dude needs to seriously chill out, he's not a fair fighter either so you better believe he'll use weapons if he gets the chance. (tl;dr: Rough rowdy boy, will not take shit from anyone even if he knows they could beat him up, "Fuck authority and fuck your rules I do what I want bitches", loves a good brawl for sure- he is DTF 24/7 (Down to Fight lmao I couldnt resist), has some v e r y prominent masochistic and hell even SADISTIC tendencies at this point, loves to prank people and watch them grow more frustrated, loves frustrating people in general tbh, needs to chill but he won't, an absolute dirty fighter and he WILL use weapons against someone if he can, mindless carnage is his J A M, he does have a soft side however, but uh, his "Soft side" is only for ONE person and one person only h e h) Jason is.... pretty opposite of Dean, he doesn't start fights for the hell of it but uh he definitely won't take shit from nobody if they even dare mess with him or especially Dean, people don't usually mess with him anyways tbh- their too terrified bc he's s o tall and beefy looking that it intimidates people- not to mention the look he usually has on his face- he scowls a lot which just adds to the intimidation factor, he's pretty quiet most of the time (wow completely opposite of Dean in that regard, Dean is a LOUD BOI), he might look all intimidating and scary but honestly, that's because.... He absolutely is, he WILL snap your neck like a twig if you mess with him or god forbid Dean, he only has a soft side for o n e man, and it should be obvious by now lmao, a loner type mostly, you can usually find him in the back because its dark and quiet, now I won't say he doesn't have sadistic urges sometimes bc he absolutely does- he just has good self restraint ...most of the time anyways... he's not really a masochist but honestly he must have a HIGH pain tolerance because he BARELY reacts when someone punches or even cuts him. (tl;dr: Opposite of Dean in MANY ways, he doesn't start fights for the hell of it, but can and will defend himself if the situation calls for it, will not take no one's shit for sure, VERY intimidating- even one look usually sends people running, scowls like- a LOT- like Dean: "Don't you like, e v e r smile?" *cut to Jason smiling but its v e r y unsettling and disturbing looking* " Holy fuck... Nevermind...", usually hangs out in the background somewhere- where its quiet n dark p much, loner type BUT the only person he really likes hanging out with is Dean despite how annoying the little punk can be sometimes, definitely has some sadistic urges but his self restraint can be a great deal of help when those urges come around, not a masochist at all he just has a HIGH pain tolerance and doesn't even flinch at anything hardly, hell most of the time the most he'd do is s t a g g e r a bit if ya hit him with a weapon that is or run into him) | Side Facts: I will say, Dean and Jason DO fight each other a lot, arguments and even physical stuff BUT- lemme make it clear, they'd never hurt each other TOO badly, they just love to rough each other up a bit sometimes, its fun to them and they never have any hard feelings against each other about it- bc they do both love to fight, I mean- that dont mean they don't get salty if one beats the other in a fight, they do know self control and restraint when fighting each other however- they'd n e v e r ACTUALLY cause serious damage, they just a couple o' rowdy boys who are super fucking gay for each other. Yep. you heard me, the truth is out- Dean has a crush on Jason, and Jason has a crush on Dean- BUT... They don't actually know it, like sure- they know one another won't seriously hurt each other which both of them respect each other for that, but Jason doesn't know Dean has a crush on him, and Dean doesn't know Jason has a crush on him especially, I mean hell- Jason looks like he barely has any emotion and the only time he does is when he CAN cause some mindless carnage or destruction- most of the time he just looks pissed off. Truth be told, this is the only time they've ever r e a l l y been afraid tho... like, Dean's scared to tell Jason his feelings bc what if Jason rejects him or for some reason gets really pissed and p much leaves him there all alone, he just has a lot of fear and anxiety over this kinda thing, and Jason... he doesn't think Dean will feel the same and just make fun of him for that like "lmao your g a y? Gross dude" (listen, let's get one thing straight, first of all- their not, second of all- Dean IS an asshole BUT he's not THAT kinda asshole lmao) so Jason's got some fears of this too their just significantly different than Dean's- so if ANYONE of them tells each other bout the feelings, it'll probs be Dean firsthand- Jason's just gonna keep quiet of that in fear Dean'll make fun of him for this kinda feeling, especially towards h i m- its essentially just two dudes who's super gay for each other but terrified to tell each other about the other's feelings n shit. In Dean's spare time he usually chills out well, anywhere he really wants too (he can honestly be super chill, like MORE SO than usual when Jason's around and he knows it), but he'll usually kick back and relax and listen to some music on his phone- his favorite genre is heavy metal, punk rock, or just anything rock in general mostly- he better be glad he has headphones bc Jason would probably become v e r y irritated hearing that loud music all the time, or if music doesn't appeal to Dean at the moment- he'll watch some videos instead- he doesn't do m u c h in his spare time aside from those and well, most of the times he'll work out with Jason- which even tho Dean can be loud most of the time, Jason seems to, well from Dean's perspective- he "tolerates" his presence p much. In Jason's spare time he usually just hangs out in "the back" he likes the darker areas and the much more quiet areas, usually whenever he's got spare time he works out a L O T- along with Dean, who again, this is from Jason's perspective now- Jason actually loves having Dean around to work out with, its nice in a way... Aside from work outs, he'll sometimes read some books, listen to some music of his own, orrr watch videos on his phone as well, there is ONE thing he does aside from that though... He loves to find and collect certain items that he k n o w s he could make weapons out of, at first, Dean didn't understand why the fuck Jason was collecting all this junk but he didn't dare question it, but after a long while... Jason had came out from his little area and he gave Dean a few weapons, ranging from a baseball bat to a knife- which, Dean- he actually genuinely smiled- not that shit eating grin that's usually plastered on his face but a genuine smile came from this boy, he... he absolutely loved those weapons- he treats them fondly too even to this day.
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iplieregossoulmateaus · a year ago
Okay so, if requests are open I'd like some Anti x reader cause oof. But also because like everytime theres static on Jack's channel I swear to god I can see like a small eye or two and so i got the idea of anti glitching out s/o's computer to look at them without revealing its him. Theres also an au where your heart glows the closer you are to your soulmate and like akfkajf s/o's chest is glowing but they arent paying attention bc what the fuck was that on my screen?! Thanks, I love this blog!
(Sure thing! Full disclosure this is the second time I’m writing Anti so I’ll do my best but he might be a bit OOC ^^’ Glad you like my blog! :D)
Warnings: Brief mentions of injuries/blood, swearing, like many much swearing, kinda creepy stalker-y behavior
~The first time had been pure, detached curiosity
~He’d just wanted to figure out who the new person the other egos had latched onto was, see what made them special enough to catch the attention of so many big personalities
~It had been easy to slip past your flimsy attempts at security, weaving through the code and peeking through a single dead pixel in the corner of your screen
~You’d been on his channel, watching him put on his obnoxious show for the masses
~On screen, his character was abruptly flung off into an abyss, and as he cursed, you let out a little giggle
~And he’d retreated. It wasn’t like he was learning anything, just that you have an abysmal taste in entertainment
~Now, countless times later, it’s getting harder and harder to pretend that he’s any kind of detached
~He “observes” you at least once a week, for one thing-- often enough that you’ve scrubbed your computer multiple times to try and get rid of whatever’s wrong with it. Usually he can remain undetectable, but, well
~He has a hypothesis
~He hadn’t noticed the first time, focused more on your screen than you, or the second time, when he’d bumped into a string of code and you’d almost seen him
~But the third time-- when it was already hard to justify to himself why he kept coming back-- he noticed something as you shifted to peer closer at the slight distortion his presence was causing
~Your chest was glowing
~Like, soulmate-is-near glowing
~You hadn’t seemed to notice, more focused on your screen, and he’d left feeling... odd
~It was probably a roommate or partner or something. Sure, you hadn’t referenced anything like that with any of the others, but your relationship was fairly new, and soulmates are personal
~But no matter how he mixed it up-- coming in the middle of the day or the dead of night, finding his way into your phone, risking a peek out of the ego’s television-- every time, he caught the faintest glow of green from under your shirt
~It happened no matter where you were or who you were with, and eventually he admits that there’s really only one common denominator-- him
~Not that he cares-- why would he need something as silly as a soulmate when he can turn anyone he wants into a puppet? What did it say about you, that you had something like him as the other half of your soul?
~But dammit, he cant stop coming back, just... watching you as you watch videos and read and laugh and cry and--
~He has no physical form when he’s like this, lurking in the space between lines of code, but what he thinks of as a hand trails up to an approximation of his chest, and he can imagine it feels warm
~This is a terrible idea and he has absolutely no idea why he’s doing this why did he agree--
~His last few months of “laying low”-- ie, focusing on stalking you instead of tormenting the others--apparently meant that Sean had decided he was “trying to turn over a new leaf”
~Idiot, what kind of trusting dumbass--
~He’d noticed the little glitches that happened when he’d checked on you while you were with the others and, deciding he must be curious about the new person, asked if he wanted to “stop in and.... say hi I guess? I dunno, just-- might be nice ta coexist for a while, yeah?”
~And, like a fucking soft idiot he’d agreed
~And here he is, standing against a wall as every single person in the room stares at him like a bomb about to go off. Jackie and Marvin are in front of the others, power crackling off of twitching fingers, waiting for an excuse to attack. The doctor and JJ stand as close to the door as they can, ready to run as soon as things look like they’re headed south. Chase and Sean are somewhere in the middle, vigilant but more relaxed
~And then there’s you. Anti’s eyes find you almost immediately, noting with relief that you’re wearing a thick sweater. The faint glow of green is thankfully invisible to anyone who isn’t looking for it
~As for him... well, apparently he doesn’t own any jackets, and he doesn’t really know how to make new clothes. They usually just sort of... appear on him after he sleeps. He can change, and the new ones stay if he takes them off, but he can’t will new ones to appear
~So instead he’s standing there with his arms crossed tightly, hands practically in his armpits as he hopes desperately that no one notices the faint light shining through
~And, of course, because this is his life, you just wander right up to the terrifying glitch demon with the massive open wound and literal claws and smile
~”Anti, right? I’m Y/N!” You slowly, carefully extend a hand to shake
~Over your head, the others have tensed, ready to intervene. Even the former puppets look ready to square up should he try anything. It’s almost sweet, how they think they could protect you
~But, well, he isn’t about to hurt you. Not that he’ll shake your hand, either
~He looks you over briefly-- you’re shorter than he’d imagined-- and grunts. “A pleasure, ‘m sure.”
~You pull your hand back without comment. Honestly, with what you’d heard from the others you’d expected far worse than mild rudeness
~Eventually conversation picks back up, though the tension ramps up everytime Anti glitches too violently
~You’re a little surprised when Anti settles on the arm of the couch you’re sitting on. Sure, he’s not facing you or even really acknowledging your existence, but occasionally he’ll glitch so that he can see you in his periphery
~It reminds you of a cat, and you giggle quietly
~”What?”
~You look up, meeting acid green eyes with a little smile that you nope is less nervous than you feel. “Huh?”
~”You laughed. Somethin’s funny. What is it?”
~”Oh, well...” You shift to face him, crossing your legs under you on the couch. “I was just kinda thinking to myself...”
~”What about?”
~He’s still not facing you, back parallel to the rest of the couch, but his face is turned slightly your way-- not that it helps. His expression is all but blank. It’s odd, with how expressive the others are
~”Don’ have all day, doll.”
~You snap out of it, not even really registering the pet name. “Just... You kinda... reminded me of a cat? With the way you were perched up there?”
~There’s a lull in conversation as, over your head, the egos and Sean stare at Anti, daring him to upset you. He isn’t watching them, though-- instead he’s blinking down at you, baffled
~”The fuck-- fine, ‘f its botherin’ ya that fuckin’ much--” he glitches and resolidifies on the couch itself, sitting so stiffly that he might as well have a ruler taped to his back
~And you can’t help it, another chuckle slipping out as you remember a video you’d seen of a cat just sort of oozing down from a table onto a chair, and sure it’s dumb to laugh at a literal demon but you’ve never let reason get in the way of humor and you aren’t about to stop now
~”... I don’ wanna know do I.” 
~You grin cheekily. “Probably not.”
~Marvin wins (or loses, depending on your perspective) the silent argument of who’s going to cut in, and whisks over to talk to you about something inane, and all of a sudden it’s crazy late and the others either trickle out or settle onto the other couches for the night
~You go to stand up when something presses ever so lightly against your shoulder
~It takes everything you have not to jump. You turn your head to find a mop of green-- at some point, Anti had fallen asleep, and now he’s slumped on your shoulder
~Lips quirked in a little smile, you can’t help but whisper, “You act aloof but all you really want is cuddles, huh?”
~And then you see it when you carefully shift into a more comfortable position-- a faint glow through the material of his tee shirt
~And suddenly his stiff posture makes a bit more sense
~You shift so you’re lying down, his head on your chest with one of his legs trailing off onto the floor, his weight solid against you
~His hair tickles your nose and you smooth it out of the way pulling a tiny noise of contentment from the glitch, and you fall asleep petting his hair
~Marvin and Jackie stare in mute astonishment at the peacefully slumbering ego. Hell, they weren’t sure he could sleep until about five seconds ago
~You wake up alone, with your sweater missing (likely cut off of you if the stray scraps of material are any indication, though it was covered in blood so it’s not too much of a loss), leaving you in just a tee shirt. Someone, though, was nice enough to leave a blanket so you didn’t get too cold
~You snuggle into it with a little grin. He may be incredibly socially awkward and a little evil, but your soulmate isn’t such a bad guy all things considered
(I’m gonna leave it here for now because it’s like 6 am and i have to be up in 6 hours. I hope you like it! The song for this one is Swan Song by Set It Off. Good band! Hope you like it! Have a great day/morning/night!)
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slxyangel · a year ago
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Handcuffs (Duff McKagan x Reader)
Summary: Hii! I was wondering if you could write something about Duff and his girlfriend have been fighting on tour. Everyone is annoyed with the fighting, so Axl handcuffs them so they can’t run away and avoid their problems. Thanks. This was requested by  @julessworldd​ and I finally had time to get round to writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Wordcount: 2.1k.
Warnings: Some swearing and that’s essentially it.
A/N: The name of the fic sucks super super bad, but I swear it’s funny; tell me your thoughts on it :) Also, get ready for a lot of Duff, bc all of my requests rn are about him. I might leap them with some other works I have in mind *wink, wink*.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN
Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist
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Waves.
The boat is drifting from side to side.
A lot of waves.
Like, a dangerously fucking lot of waves.
What the hell.
Wait, these are not waves.
This is you being carried around in God knows what to God knows where.
And now you are almost violently left (or, more accurately, thrown) in a bed. You open your eyes to see several arms, probably more than two, probably less than six, toying around your recently awakened figure. Seriously, what the fuck?
As you try your best to figure out what is going on, what was going on before you were tossed around under yet to clarify circumstances, and what apparently will still be going on for a while, you identify your captors by their features. Fibrous arms, tan skin, callous hands and a mop of dark curly hair? Pale, tattooed arms, twinky frame and red strands of straight hair? Obviously, it has to be them, it couldn’t be any other people on the planet.
And the milliseconds it takes for you to draw their names in your head are enough time for the skinny diabolic peanut to handcuff your right wrist. Then he backs off, along with his accomplice, just a few steps. Well, not that they have much more space to back off inside a tour bus.
Obviously, it has to be them. It has to be Axl and it has to be Slash. And it has to be the two of them together.
You turn your incandescent eyes from their main objective to the place where your no-longer-free-hand is tied to something else. And that something else turns out to be another hand. Another hand attached to Duff.
- OBVIOUSLY, I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL THE TWO OF YOU.
And this time you say it out loud.
Like, so damn out loud that your boyfriend, now turned into an annoying physical extension of your arm, wakes up from his most definitely no longer peaceful sleep. And when he does, since you are in a tour bus and the place is small and the space is used to the millimeter, he bumps his head against the cupboard strategically placed above him. His blow raises general laughter among his bandmates, who are all around to see the spectacle you two are surely about to give. And when you see Slash waving a tiny metallic key with a mischievous smile, your anger tells you that Mamma didn’t raise no disappointer.
- GIVE ME THAT KEY.
You sit up and stretch your free arm towards the guitarist, but he doesn't give you enough time and immediately puts the key in his mouth, just enough to bite it with his front teeth and show you what he is doing. He can’t hide his smile, or he doesn’t want to. He finally closes his lips around the metallic thingy and it disappears from your view. He hasn’t swallowed it. He hasn’t swallowed it, right??? I mean, he might have, cause it’s Slash. But holy shit tell me he hasn’t.
- This last week with you has been a fucking nightmare -- Axl speaks with voice clear as a day, he is enjoying. Thoughts of the cruelest methods of revenge start pacing your head --, and for “you” I mean you two lovebirds. What are you? Fifteen years old? You can’t be running around yelling at each other, then go with the silent treatment and then come to the rest of us bitching about how the other has pissed your ass so much, this has to end. And since some of these cowards -- now he points at the members of the band who are not handcuffed to your wrist -- were brave enough to complain the same way I am doing right now but not enough to put an end to it, I took matters into my own hands. Well, yours, more exactly. And I’m not gonna take the cuffs off until you talk it out and solve your problems like the adults you clearly aren’t.
- Oh, now that’s surprising -- your answer comes off bitter -- I didn’t know the “adult” way to solve things involved handcuffs.
- Well, you can take them off now because I don’t need this shit to talk to my girlfriend -- Duff finally opens his mouth. He sits up in the bed, right beside you, not that he has many more options. His free hand is covering the spot of his head he just hit with the furniture --. Though now that I mention it, maybe she does.
- Excuse me??? So I am the one running from the problem here??
- See? I told you all she was bitchy.
- YOU TOLD THEM I’M BITCHY?
- Yes he did -- Slash answers your question before Duff has time to, but his words sound weird.Good thing he mustn’t have swallowed the key.
- Slash, we’re trying to solve a problem here -- Steven adds, also looking at the panorama -- so shut the fuck up.
- Sorry mate, she asked.
- Well, sorry to break it up to you  but I’m not the one who’s ignoring her boyfriend here, in fact it’s pretty much the other way around -- your intervention is directed to the general public, since they seem to be so aware of the issue because of someone’s loose tongue. But that someone takes the hint.
- So now I am ignoring you???
- No, now you aren’t ignoring me because you have a fucking handcuff and you can’t run from me like you usually do.
- Oh my god, do I run from you??? -- Duff sounds genuinely shocked. This bastard knows how to play his part in front of the guys, but it won’t wash, not with you.
- No he doesn’t -- Steven adds, always being the advocate for love.
- Yes he does -- that’s Slash, always being the advocate for chaos.
- SLASH!
Now he doesn’t even bother to defend himself, he did it on purpose, he is fucking enjoying. Lowkey, you find that funny, but he obviously hasn’t contributed to the plot for the sake of a solution, but for the sake of drama. I mean, the guy is only missing a bowl of popcorn and the 3D glasses. On the other end of the spectrum there’s Izzy, who hasn’t opened his mouth a single time and looks like and unbothered wine aunt. Like, literally, he has a glass of wine in his hand. And now returning to the point that keeps us here…
- I don’t run from you, babe.
- Ooohhh don’t use the babe card on me right now because we are arguing and I might as well stab you in the eye, Duff.
- Jeeeeeesus, I don’t run from you -- the bassist backs off before your eyes start going up in flames --, I don’t know, I have stuff to do. But you can always talk to me.
- No. I can’t because YOU NEVER HAVE TIME.
- BECAUSE I’M ON TOUR!!!
- OH so since you’re on tour you don’t have time to talk to your girlfriend but you do have time to fuck her??? -- There is a general snort. Well, at least no word from Slash, which is kinda disappointing.
- Holy shit -- Duff has opened his eyes so much it looks like they are gonna jump from his skull and leave the place rolling -- don’t give these fuckers one more thing to pry about because. They. Clearly. Don’t. Need. It. -- He shots deadly glares to each of his bandmates.
- Well, you were the one telling them I am bitchy. For which, by the way, you also have time.
- Jesus Christ how the hell did I think this was a good idea????? -- Axl starts regretting having put handcuffs on both of you, and you don’t blame him.
- Then take off the cuffs -- you suggest, slyly.
- Slash won’t give me the key.
- I wouldn’t have worded it better than that -- the guitarist finally puts the key out of his mouth, but he doesn’t give it away. It must be tiring to try to intervene in someone else’s argument while trying not to choke on metal.
- Then this is what you get for being such a brat -- now Duff is the one calling him out. Good, at least there is one thing you two agree on --. Now, honey, I’m sorry. I never meant to ignore you, but I didn’t notice you were upset about it or anything until this past week. I know things shouldn’t have escalated the way they did,  I guess I was just overwhelmed by everything and I ended up projecting stuff into us two.
- Duff… -- that was so sweet. You actually never thought he would back off so easily, especially since you had been so picky with each other for some time now. -- It’s fair, I’m not mad at you. Actually that’s on me, because I am the one who hasn’t been clear about her feelings lately. I don’t know, I have been feeling a bit off, but I never got round to talk to you about it, because I see you have so much going on around, and so much to do, and so much pressure, but at the same time you are living your dream and you look happy and you deserve to enjoy it. I really didn’t want to be the one to pop the bubble worrying you with my stuff, and I just thought it would eventually vanish. But it didn’t, and I made you pay for something you are not to blame for.
- Babe -- he uses the word with feet of lead this time, just in case your reaction to it resembles the one you had before. But no, now he can definitely use the babe card -- please, I need you to know that you can always talk to me about anything. Always. No matter what. That’s what I’m here for. -- now his handcuffed hand holds yours, and his other hand travels to your cheek. The touch is so tender, so concerned that you can’t help but lean into it and close your eyes for a moment. You hadn’t realized until now how much you had missed that. -- But I need you to tell me, please. I can’t guess what’s going on out of the blue, so please, please, always tell me. I really don’t want us arguing like this again, especially if it has a solution, so let’s communicate from now on. Okay?
You nod against his hand. In the end, it turns out that you only needed to talk, to have a conversation instead of throwing things at each other to see who hits harder. In almost perfect synchronization with each other, you two lean in for a hug. Well, better said, a semi-hug, because let’s not forget that you are handcuffed and basically can’t move your arms. But who cares? You love him so much you feel your heart is gonna burst out at any moment and, now that you finally have him around you, you don’t understand how you were able to live without it for a WHOLE ENTIRE WEEK. Insane.
From your place between Duff’s hair and the scent of his neck, you hear Steven saying “Told ya. Pay me” and Slash responding with a huff, before he slaps what you presume is a banknote in what you presume is the drummer’s hand. So the fuckers have been betting on whether you would or wouldn’t fix things.
- So you fuckers have been betting on whether we would or wouldn’t fix things? -- Duff reads your mind and speaks your words as you two separate from each other. He shakes his head and smiles -- That’s really really ugly, and you really really never disappoint.
- Thanks dude! -- Steven smiles back and Slash doesn’t seem to have anything else to say now that he has a lighter wallet. He even gave the key to Axl -- I just believe in love.
Duff moves his hand up and exposes it along with yours so that Axl can unlock the cuffs. Instead, the vocalist hands him the key and says “You’ve earned it”. Your boyfriend takes the metallic piece and frees your wrist before he frees his. Then, he grabs the handcuffs and the key, he puts them in his back pocket and, winking at you, says:
- If any of you was expecting to have these back, they can go choke on a fork. They are mine, now. For the inconvenience and for the celebration.
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alwayswriting123 · a year ago
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Are Young People Tuning In?
Youngsters don’t want to sit through either a 2 or 3 hour-long debate of old people arguing about why they deserve to sit their kiesters in one of the world's most powerful chairs ever. (Hmm, wonder if it’s a lazy boy... anyway) No, they’d rather sit around and vape or do the smart thing like the bird-box challenge and posting it online.
In fact, I bet if I asked a group of teenagers who Pete Buttigieg is, they’d reply with a vacuum cleaner salesman and I’m not kidding. I sat down with a group of teenagers and someone literally said he’s a vacuum cleaner salesman. I felt so bad for little Petie I continued to ask them questions on all of the current candidates. Their results? A D+. So I began to wonder, just how many teenagers aren’t tuning into the debates? And what’s the most efficient way of getting to these young voters? Through social media and other places of course! 
Well I mean, like, I don’t know about other people but I just don’t care about that kind of stuff. Like, I hear about politics a lot more in my household and stuff - it’s not that I don’t wanna learn it’s just that I feel afraid to contribute to the conversation, you know? Like I don’t wanna open my mouth and say something wrong. Trust me, I don’t like Donald Trump at all, I really don’t know why he won in the first place. That say’s a lot about America. Like a lot but, I really hope he doesn’t win again. I mean, I voted in the past.
Me: “That’s good you should keep doing that.” 
That’s why I feel bad because I didn’t vote in the last election. And it wasn’t because I didn’t like either candidate, I liked Hillary. But I just felt like my vote wouldn’t count. The electoral college is messed up! That **** is crazy and plain bananas. - Greg Soyer
Mmm, that **** was indeed crazy and bananas. (This **** is bananas- B-A-N-A-N-A-S!) But I still was hungry for answers. Why was the **** crazy? I needed to find out. So I did the opposite of what I did the first time and asked older and much wiser people.
Question 1. Why do you feel like young voters aren’t or are tuned in to the election?
I think young people starting out in life are very worried about one thing and that is what is going to happen to their future. The presidency affects not just the individual but also their entire existence. Though the argument can also be made that they also don’t tune in because they mistrust the government and at times think it’s corrupt. - Tucker White
No reliable news outlets. [There is] too much to sort through.- Anonymous
I feel like young voters don’t want to be involved or, the ones that are involved don’t pay attention to the policies. - Anonymouse
While I’m not sure if more young adults are tuned in are tuned in or not, I personally feel conflicted. On one hand, I’m invested because I want Trump & his administration out of office. On the other hand, I feel discouraged about who can be trusted to lead our nation next. It feels like the corruption never ends, regardless of who’s in office.- Elizabeth Adebayo
You know it’s funny that you bring that up because I asked my son if he was gonna vote and he said no. I asked him why not and he just responded with my vote won’t change anything. And you know, I feel bad. As a mother, you hear your kid telling you he has no control over what happens in his life? It made my heart almost break. I wanted to argue with him but... I couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him to vote because I’m not even sure if it’ll change anything with the last election.- Elizabeth DeTar.
I can speak for like late 20-somethings millennials. We’re too busy drowning in debt and trying to make it to care about a bunch of lackluster candidates who don’t seem to be inspiring - Anonymous
I soon realized a pattern in each responder's answers. They all felt betrayed. Violated by their government, concerned and scared about not only where their future would end up but, the next generations. I, for one, had hope that democracy wasn’t dead. And to prove it, I continued my search for some good ole’ fashioned teenage spirit, printed out a couple of headshots of each of the 2020 democratic candidates and headed to the one place where teenagers gather (sometimes in flocks) the mall.
First up was Bernie Sanders.
“Do you know who this guy is?”
Oh, of course, that’s Bernie Sanders. He’s one of the candidates. - Amanda Peters
Amanda got Pete, Sanders, Elizabeth, and Biden right, but when it came to Klobuchar... she got the short end of the stick.
Oh... yeah I don’t know, gee I guess I don’t know much about the candidates.
But that was just one person, right? Next, Tom Styer.
“Who is this guy, what do you think of him and do you know any of his policies?”
Oh shoot... I know the guy! I just can’t remember his name. Oh jeez, am I gonna get in trouble for this? 
"Okay, I believe you. Do you know any of his policies?”
I’m not even gonna lie, I haven’t even been to his page.
“Do you know who your gonna vote for in the 2020 elections?”
Oh, definitely Pete Buttigieg! I definitely have huge respect for him and his campaign. I mean to come out on national television as a gay man and give zero ***** about it? That takes huge balls. And he has a certain Obama swag about him. I’m not just voting for him because we're both gay, that’s the stupidest argument ever people try to make. I’m voting for him because he’s actually got great ideas. For example, his climate change policy is offering a National Catastrophic Disaster Insurance program that helps and provides stability to people like me. Our house was hit last year. - Ben Potemyer
Wow, now that’s somebody who knows their stuff! Also, he later told me to mention he highly recommends that people read up on his policies. So I invite all of you to look into him with me.
Question 2. Do you feel like most people are just tuning in more now than ever because they just want Donald Trump out of office or for other reasons? And if so, what are those reasons? 
In a way, Trump has awakened people who, otherwise, wouldn’t care to know what’s going on politically. I also think that he’s insighted a new era of people to at least watch his comedic politics to get their news. The Trevor Noah’s & Hasan Minhaj’s of the world have become more popular because people are trying to engage in polotics without boring themselves or feeling lost in the conversation. -  Elizabeth Adebayo
Yes, people are tuning into the news because of the recent impeachment trial. But I don’t feel like it’s just for seeing him removed from office. - Tucker White 
I think people are tuning in because of Trump. Because they see even though the president has checks and balances, he can still have a huge implication on other Americans and how those Americans treat other people. - Anonymous
I do believe it has to do with wanting Trump out, but I think that is because of a want for other types of social policies that Trump is against. - Anonymous
I don’t think more people are tuning in. I think we’re all transient bystanders watching the circus fire. - Anonymous
Another coincidence, among these people I interviewed, all of them said that they think young people aren't focused on this coming election. I wanted to try and find more people. All of this talk about generations got me thinking. What if there were people, who couldn’t even vote yet, had opinions? I met a powerful little 10 year old. And I’ll never forget what she said. 
I don’t think it’s because of either one of those things. I think people now see what they have done and who they’ve put in the oval office and they want to correct what they’ve done. Because deep down, we should all love each other. Love should always win.” - Ashley
Love should always win. Wise kid huh? 
Question 3. Who do you have your eye on in the race? What draws you to them?
I’m supportive of Bernie Sanders, as I was in the last race. His views seem to be less about solely taking care of the wealthy, but actually looking out for working-class people. I want a leader who cares about helping Americans create better lives for themselves through healthcare & employment v.s focusing solely on our external affairs. I’m also interested in Elizabeth Warren, but I need to do more research on her political decisions. -  Elizabeth Adebayo
I have my eye on three candidates, Joe Biden, Elizabeth Warren and, Bernie Sanders. Currently, I’m leaning towards Elizabeth Warren. Joe seems a little consertive and Bernie seems too progressive. Elizabeth has just the right balance. - Tucker White
Of all the candidates I would consider Gabbard, Yang, Biden or Trump. I lean center-right and see the U.S as doing pretty well right now. I do find Gabbard and Yang appealing because they seem very genuine and tell it like it is, similar to Bernie. - Anonymous
I don’t really have anyone I’m drawn to right now if anything, Bernie Sanders but I don’t know everything about him either. - Anonymous
No one. - Anonymous
Question 4. Why are all the big named candidates like Pete Buttigieg, Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, Joe Biden, and Amy Klobuchar popular in the news? 
Honestly, I don’t know. - Elizabeth Adebayo
I feel like these names are in the news the most because they are the mainstream and more established friendly.  - Anonymous
I suppose they pop up bc they’re campaigning and doing they’re part to try to spread their message. - Anonymous
I think the simplest way of saying it is because they have the money and resources to be able to.  - Tucker White
Mayor Pete appeals the common man, Bernie has a wonderful grassroots base, Joe Biden was/is associated with Obama and, Elizabeth Warren is supposed to appeal to women(?) I don’t know about that last one. I expect they make a splash because either A: they have clout and social media following or B: they have the money to appear like they have clout. You forgot Yang! (This person is referring to Yang being a big named candidate.) - Anonymous
Question 5. Who do you feel has the most successful chance of being president? 
At this point, I don’t know. For better or for worse, Trumps election has changed the expectation of what we view as a suitible leader to run our nation, so I can’t even say. I do think that we, as Americans, are over the smoke & mirrors of politics. - Elizabeth Adebayo 
I think Trump either gets re-elected or Bernie or Biden gets elected. Warren isin’t as strong as Sanders in my eyes. Anonymous
I feel like maybe Elizabeth Warren or Joe Biden. Maybe even Bernie. - Anonymous
I’d say Elizabeth Warren would be the best canidate for the job. - Tucker White - 
I don’t know, maybe Warren. I honestly think our country sucks enough that we’re about to elect Donald Trump again. - Anonymous
Question 6. What are the biggest flaws amping these candidates and what could help improve their chances?
I just want a politician that’s real that cares about actual people and isn’t the “Better of two evils” bull. - Anonymous
The thing that’s hurting all these campaigns is easily that they’re just playing to their bases instead of trying to sway moderates and voters on the other side. - Anonymous
To face not just the Democrats but also the Republicans. - Tucker White
Bernie and Biden feel like familiar territory to me, so with the exception of Warren, the other candidates haven’t built enough of a rapport with the country to solidify their chances. -  Elizabeth Adebayo
Question 7. How do you feel about Pete Buttigieg? Do you think him being gay will hurt him or do you think we, as a country have gotten over that hurdle?
I’d say he’s a pretty good alternative to Biden. From what I hear he doesn’t have very good support in the south, where Biden does, but he can be seen as a strong candidate to religious voters. - Anonymous
As a country, I don’t think we’ve gotten over that hurdle, despite what the media portrays, but if he could speak to the needs of working/middle-class Americans by talking about the things that matter most to them, he might have a chance. - Elizabeth Adebayo
[Buttigieg] Sounds like a solid candidate. I like what I’ve heard about him so far. As for his chances, America is still super “Christian”. And that’s a large chunk of the voting base that isn't ready for a gay president. So no, we suck at getting over that hurdle.- Anonymous
Question 8. And finally, do you think young voters are just affiliating themselves with their parents/ close friends same party? 
I want to say that more conservative voters may be doing that because they focus a lot on the idea of the collective through their moral or religious values. Liberals, on the other hand seem to think more individually, but are more heavily influenced by their friends. - Elizabeth  Adebayo
Ergh, maybe younger ones. In my experience with mid to late twenty-somethings, we’re diametrically opposed to family members voting wise-- to the point where it’s awkward at family reuinions. - Anonymous
I would like to thank everyone who participated in this very long post about what everyday Americans thought about the candidates so far. For the most part,  I say young people/first-time voters are clearly in desperate need of just a little education on each of the candidates and the power - the drive to get engaged. But most of all, to not be afraid. To all my readers, thank you.
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your-iron-lung · a year ago
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No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 13
aka ‘Slow Down’; available to read on AO3 HERE
Story Synopsis:  Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.
Chapter Word Count: 7216
Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Genre: Supernatural/Suspense/Drama/Horror-ish
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
Next Chapter: 14
Notes: SURPRISE!! its a SECRET DOUBLE UPDATE 'secret double update? what does it MEAN?' it means that, when i went back to re-read my story to make sure i was keeping on track for continuity purposes, i couldnt even get through the first chapter! it was just THAT BAD (imo), so i went back and re-wrote it entirely. it doesnt offer anything new in terms of plot, but boy howdy is it an upgrade to what it used to be. bless those of you who kept up with the story after reading that trainwreck
(this chapter update is dedicated to @pfandghoul​ bc they were my 100th follower here- THANKS BUDDYYYY) OH ALSO- i got a commission done of billy in the TERRIBLE OUTFIT (but with hair, bc i cant commission an artist like demonfleet and not have him draw those beautiful curls). PEEP IT HERE
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“Who else knows?”
Hopper’s voice, though sluggish and weighted with exhaustion, still carried with it a tone of seriousness that had Steve feeling prematurely guilty about the way the rest of the conversation was going to play out. He knew what Hopper was really asking; knew he wanted to hear confirmation that the kids weren’t somehow involved in any of this, and even though they weren’t, not yet, Steve still found himself turning his eyes away from Hopper’s authoritative stare, focusing his attention instead on the spot on the table where he’d been picking at the veneer absentmindedly. And although he knew the question was primarily directed towards himself, he let Billy answer.
“No one,” Billy said self-assuredly, a hint of surliness edging out with his tone as he exhaled a hot breath of smoke and leaned forward to stub his cigarette out in the ashtray centered between the three of them. He sat back in his seat with a grunt and a creaking of wood and promptly lit another.
Gathered in the Harringtons’ dining room- (the room itself being, remarkably, an equal point of pride to both of his parents)- the three of them sat gathered around the antique wooden table that served as a centerpiece, perched around its aged surface in differing states of dishevelment. Their collective exhaustion was as palpable as the smoke trails that had been gathering and circling slowly above their heads for the past ten minutes, in which Billy had chain-smoked three cigarettes down to the filter before either Steve or Hopper had had the chance to finish their first.
Sitting across from him, Steve could feel Hopper’s eyes, sunken and dark and weary, boring into him as he waited for his response to confirm what Billy had said.
“No one else knows,” Steve affirmed after a moment’s hesitation, in which he took a hard drag of his cigarette and exhaled with a long, drawn out sigh. He could feel the pressure of what he was going to say next catching in his throat before he cleared it and amended, “Well, not… not yet, anyway.”
“Yet.”
The repeated word dropped from Hopper’s lips like a dead weight, falling upon the three of them like a bomb. It broke whatever uneasy peace they’d managed to find in those few minutes where they’d all just sat smoking in silence, each of them trying to recover from the ordeals they’d endured over the night before reconvening to tackle them again. In its place, a taut, malevolent tension began to take form, and in it Steve could feel the enmity brewing against him.
“Yet,” Hopper repeated again, and this time there was anger in his voice. Steve winced reflexively, slowly turning his eyes up from where they’d been focused on the tabletop to meet his anger directly. “And what does ‘yet’ entail exactly, huh, kid?”
Steve opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t force the words he wanted to use to explain out. Under Hopper and Billy’s stares, all the reasoning he’d had stored up for why he needed to at least tell Dustin what was going on left him. He could feel the trust his only two allies had in him turning into something dark and misconstrued as he sat there struggling to form a sentence, but was helpless to combat it. 
“It’s not what you think-” he started to say, but was interrupted when Billy interjected by slamming his fist down hard upon the table, rattling the ashtray in its place and silencing him instantly.
“Well what the fuck is it then, Harrington?” There was such strong mistrust in Billy’s eyes when he spoke- mistrust and vehement anger, such that Steve could practically feel the foundations they’d laid in their almost-friendship crumbling apart. “Selling me out to this pig not enough for you? You trying to go national with this shit or something? What the fuck does ‘not yet’ mean?!”
“Hey! You need to calm down,” Hopper snapped, directing his ire towards Billy, who’d begun to rise out of his seat with each word spoken in anger. “Sit down and give him a chance to explain, alright?”
But he didn’t.
“Fuck that, and fuck you,” Billy said roughly, leering across the table at both Hopper and Steve. His stomach let out a low growl that momentarily stalled him long enough for Steve to intervene before he could say anything more.
“What the fuck are you talking about, ‘go national’? Do you even hear yourself, Hargrove?” Steve spat back, exasperated, tired, and unable to keep himself from matching Billy’s aggression when it was being thrust at him. He narrowed his eyes and took another hard drag off his cigarette before continuing, saying, “Who the hell do you think would even believe me? You think I’m just going to stroll into the Hawkins Post and try to sell them a werewolf story? ‘Oh uh, yeah, some douchebag I know turns into a big bad wolf during a full moon. You might wanna print that- warn the people! Billy Hargrove’s a more literal monster than we thought!’ I didn’t even believe in any of this crap at first, who do you think I could I possibly sell that to?”
The words came spilling out of Steve’s mouth before he could even think about what it was he was saying. He knew he’d fallen for another one of Billy’s taunts but couldn’t help himself; he refused to be painted as the villain in Billy’s fabricated scenario when he hadn’t even done anything yet, and certainly hadn’t been planning anything near as diabolical as selling Billy out to the country as some kind of freak sideshow act. Steve matched Billy’s glare evenly, half-aware of the way Hopper had groaned and run a hand down the length of his face. ‘You’ve really done it now, kid,’ his expression seemed to say.
Appearing taken aback, Billy seemed somewhat startled by the harsh words Steve had doled out to him. With a hand across his stomach, a small hint of vulnerability crossed over his features before he quickly reigned it back and pulled his lips back into a harsh snarl, his half-smoked cigarette dangling forgotten in the corner of his mouth to reveal at last what oral thing had been bothering him so much on the car ride over.
His teeth, Steve observed dumbly as he stared openly at the obstructions lining his mouth. Of course it was his teeth.
Thin, long, and all of them pointed, they looked more suited to what might be found in the muzzle of a large hound rather than in the mouth of a man. They were canine in nature, unnaturally fitted in his mouth where before his teeth had been straight and white and pristine, forming a smile so blindingly handsome it wasn’t always easy to look away.
“You’re right! You didn’t believe in any of this at first, but all it took was a little bit of proof to convince you though, right, Harrington?” Billy cooed smoothly after a moment, an eager look flashing in his yellow-blue eyes at the prospect of their argument turning into a physical fight in Steve’s parents’ dining room. “How much proof do you think it’d take to convince one shitty reporter in this hick town, huh? A mouth full of weird teeth? A broken arm that heals itself in, what, the span of two days? I mean, isn’t that what did it for you, Harrington? Witnessing this small little biological miracle of mine? Maybe that would do the trick. Could really blow the lid off of this one; might even be able to contribute something to your daddy’s legacy besides being a little piece of shit.”
“Enough!” Hopper’s voice burst from his throat, booming loudly in the condensed space. The suddenness of his outburst was enough to draw both Steve and Billy’s attention off of one another, though they were each reluctant to turn away. “You!” Hopper shouted, pointing one finger authoritatively at Steve, who sat and stared at him with a baffled look on his face, “Quit goading him on, goddammit. And you,” he continued, turning his command to Billy, “sit down and shut the hell up! He might be mouthing off, but you need to show this kid some damn respect for taking responsibility last night. He could’ve died going after you, do you understand that? He could have died for you.”
The weight of Hopper’s words had the exact impact he wanted them to. Steve turned away in embarrassment as a funny look crossed over Billy’s face. Confusion wormed its way through his anger, furrowing his brow and pulling his lips into a frown. It was a look Hopper had seen many times before when he’d been in the army, when soldiers who’d been at arms with one another were forced to let it go under the threat of punishment from their higher ups. It was a dark, begrudging sort of obedience fresh cadets endured when their commanding officers demanded they stand down when they weren’t quite ready to. With his momentum shaken, Billy’s look of anger slowly slipped into something a little more unreadable as he sank back down into his seat, muttering a quiet “Yes, sir” aloud as his stomach emitted another horrifically loud growl that everyone in the room ignored.
“Christ, I’m dealing with children here,” Hopper mumbled, kneading his fingers against his temple. He took a moment to take a deep breath of collection and lit another cigarette, flicking his lighter fruitlessly a couple of times before a spark struck and he continued speaking.
“Nothing said here leaves this house,” he said sternly, making sure to make and hold eye contact with each of them to stress the importance of his words. “This,” he said, gesturing vaguely to Billy with his freshly lit cigarette, “doesn’t go ‘national’; it doesn’t even go local, you got that? Whoever your ‘not yet’ applied to doesn’t get to know, so you can put the idea that you’re going to tell anyone else about any of this right out the window, understand?”
He looked sharply to Steve then, insisting in so many words that the children be left out of whatever they decided to do moving forward. Steve bit the inside of his cheek and looked away stubbornly, nodding once as he crossed his arms across his chest. He was aware of how he must’ve looked- like a spoiled, pouting child- but he couldn’t help it. Of course he understood; it didn’t take a genius to understand why this needed to be kept secret, but he still owed Dustin an explanation, and right now he figured he liked Dustin a hell of a lot more than he liked Hopper.
Hopper watched him with a scrutinizing eye, and, as though he could read Steve’s thoughts, said, “Let me hear you say it.”
“What?”
“Say you understand,” Hopper said quietly, ignoring for a moment the fact that Billy was sharing the space with them. He enunciated each word with gentle forcefulness, not issuing him orders now so much as silently begging for compliance. “The three of us can handle it. We don’t need for anyone else to get involved.”
The air in the room felt very still in that moment. The cigarette smoke that had been pooling above them like a pale cloud continued its slow and stagnant swirl, apathetic to the nature of their conversation. Staring at him, Steve once again felt guilty. After everything that the chief had done for him, he still couldn’t commit to the promise Hopper wanted him to make. He understood where his concerns were coming from, but Dustin was already involved, in a way. He sighed.
“Well, the thing is,” Steve began to say, nervously tapping his fingers against the table, “Dustin kind of already knows?” Hopper’s expression turned dark, as Steve had expected it to, but better he tell him now than for him to find out later. “I mean, I asked the kid to use his house! You were there; you dropped me off. I didn’t tell him for what, or WHO,” he said, shooting Billy a pointed look, “but he knows something’s up. It’s kind of obvious I was trying to use his cellar as a holding cell, and I promised I’d tell him about it once things settled down.”
Hopper exhaled a long and forlorn sigh, rubbing his face into his hands tiredly. “Could this get anymore convoluted?” he mumbled to himself before he looked up and locked his gaze onto Steve. “Fine. You promised to tell him about it, so you will.”
Confused, Steve shifted his attention from Hopper to Billy. “I will?”
“Yep.” Hopper blew out a long string of smoke. As he did so, the tension he’d held in the muscles of his face seemed to relax. “We’re going to double-down on your dog story. You’ll tell him you were dogsitting for one of your mom’s friends. Dog got loose, and you had to lure it back. Threw some meat down there to attract and trap it. I trust you to make up some details to fill in the gaps if he asks anything specific. You got that?”
Steve stared at him, knowing full well there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Dustin would ever believe that. And besides, Steve had already told him it was a red alert, but if this was what it took to get Hopper off his back, then, maybe it was fine.
“I understand,” he said, knowing he would, eventually, have to ask forgiveness for his future misdeeds.
“Good.”
Steve lit another cigarette and breathed it in deeply, hating how openly relieved Hopper sounded. He stole a glance towards where Billy was sitting with his own cigarette still hanging limply from his lips and felt that guilt compounded. He couldn’t say for certain what Billy must have thought of him at that point, but there was no way he’d have been able to keep helping him on his own, because Hopper was right: he had almost died last night. But with the worst of it over (he hoped), they could focus less on that and put their heads together to figure out what to do going forward. 
Or, they could have, if Hopper’s hip radio hadn’t begun to crackle in that exact instance, releasing a string of police-coded jargon through the speaker. They all collectively jumped a little at the startling noise as the dispatcher (Florence’s voice, Steve recognized) requested Hopper’s aid in assisting his deputies with something he couldn’t decipher. 
“Great,” Hopper mumbled to himself, stubbing out the cigarette he’d hardly been able to enjoy. If possible, he looked even more tired than when he’d walked in. “Yeah, I copy,” he said into the radio as he unlatched it from his belt. “I’ll be there soon; give me a few minutes to wrap it up here and I’ll meet them at the scene.”
He clipped the small receiver back onto his belt before coming to a stand, groaning in a way that was similar to Steve’s dad when he’d been sitting down for too long.
“You’re leaving?” Steve asked as he watched Hopper collect his hat and place it haphazardly on his head. 
“Duty calls,” Hopper grunted noncommittally. He pulled on the coat he’d left on the back of his chair and zipped it up to the collar. “I had a few of my boys start investigating a lead for me. A small one, but if they’re calling me out there, it means they’ve found something, and hopefully it’ll help us settle all this a little more quickly.”
“But we haven’t made a plan for what to do the next time this happens,” Steve said concernedly. He felt exhausted beyond his years, but none of their major issues had been solved or even discussed yet. “We haven’t talked about what we’re supposed to do at all.”
“Next time?”
Steve turned from Hopper to Billy, who’d spoken softly and, despite having looked enraged only moments before, now appeared confused. 
“Well, yeah,” Steve said, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette into the ashtray, “this is like, a monthly thing for you now, right? Kind of like a girl when she gets her-”
“Don’t fucking say it,” Billy growled. Steve shrugged, unbothered.
“...but only for a day instead of like, for a week,” he finished, feeling a little bit of self-satisfaction at the way Billy cringed and groaned. 
“God fucking dammit Harrington.”
“You were the one who showed me the movie though,” Steve said, shifting the subject easily to skirt around Billy’s annoyance. Hopper lingered by the dining room’s opening, hearing out the tail-end of Steve’s concerns. “It didn’t end for him after one month; he was like, doomed to keep turning every full moon forever or something, right? Isn’t that how werewolves work, and doesn’t that, y’know, kind of include you now?”
A dawning look of horror spread across Billy’s pale face as he made the connection. He blinked once, let the long trail off ash fall off his cigarette onto the table, and looked away, dazed, as though the thought of having to relive last night’s nightmare hadn’t occurred to him before. 
“What do you mean, next time?” Hopper asked, parroting Billy’s earlier confusion. “You saying he’s liable to... turn again?”
Steve nodded somberly. “We can’t use Dustin’s house again; he escaped way too easily, but I guess we have a month to prepare, so it’s not critical right now or anything,” he explained, to which Hopper acknowledged him with a low hum. “But we still definitely need a plan for next time.”
“Leave it to me, kid; I might have something I can make work,” Hopper muttered. His eyes were unfocused as he turned and began to leave, already mentally trying to work out the specifics of whatever it was he had in mind. “Remember,” he called back once he’d reached the front door, his haggard voice echoing down the short hall, “nothing said here leaves this house.”
He didn’t wait for affirmation before departing. From the dining room they heard the soft click of the front door as it opened and shut, leaving Billy and Steve alone in the dining room. Turning in his seat to look out the front-facing windows, Steve watched Hopper get into his truck and start the engine, noting the way he let his head hang briefly for a moment before he perked up to back out of the driveway. And then he was gone. 
A wave of exhaustion overcame as he sat there, eyeing the empty space where Hopper’s truck had been. He was hungry, tired, and wanted nothing more than to just be able to sleep forever, but as long as he was needed, that wasn’t likely to happen. His role as caretaker was ever-expanding, and now, it seemed to include Billy as well. 
Hopper had managed to hold the peace between them (though barely) while he’d been there, and Steve couldn’t presume to know how things were going to go now that it was just him and Billy again. As he turned back in his seat and finished off the rest of his cigarette, he realized that whatever aggression Billy had been harboring towards him was gone. 
“Next time,” Steve heard him mumble to himself. The dejected manner in which he spoke was so unlike himself that he was reminded of the way he’d been behaving the day before, as though he could no longer find his own self-worth. Billy took the cigarette that had been hanging off his lip and held it in his hand, staring at the dimly glowing cherry before looking up to catch Steve’s eye to say, “I don’t think I can go through that again.”
He said it with such vulnerable honesty that Steve found he didn’t know how to respond. His own self-worth took a hit as guilt and pity began to rise within him as he stared back at Billy, hating that he didn’t know what to say. It felt wrong to try and supply him with empty assurances when he had heard firsthand and seen the aftermath of how painfully debilitating the transformation had been. There was nothing he could say that could possibly begin to alleviate the horror that came with knowing it was going to come and afflict him again and again, month after month, for the rest of his life.
What sort of consolation could he possibly offer him?
“C’mon,” Steve eventually said, depositing the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray as he scooted his chair back to stand up. Billy watched him with an exhausted, yet vaguely sorrowful expression that Steve decidedly didn’t like. “I’ll show you the bathroom.”
Well, at least he could offer him a shower.
-----
Steve could hear the shower running by the time he came back up the hall with a fresh towel in hand, but Billy wasn’t yet locked inside the bathroom. He was leaning up against the wall beside the bathroom door, arms folded across his chest and eyes closed, dozing off while he waited for the water to warm up. As Steve approached, he noticed that, while Billy had taken off the bloody ruination of his old shirt, he still had Mrs. Henderson’s ugly bathrobe loosely tied around his waist. 
Billy cocked one eye open when he heard him come close, and mutely traded the shirt for the towel when Steve offered it to him. Neither of them spoke as the exchange was made; a silence broken only by the sound of spraying water hitting the shower tile forming between them until Steve found it too unbearable to withstand.
“So,” he started to say, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “about before… I, uh, really shouldn’t have, y’know, said what I did about you being a monster.”
From his position against the wall, Billy frowned. 
“I was just caught up in the moment,” Steve continued apologetically. “And I know that doesn’t like, excuse my actions or whatever, but it was still a shitty thing to say.”
As he opened both of his eyes, Billy found that Steve was looking everywhere but directly at him, and in fact had taken to looking at his own reflection in a decorative vase while he’d been talking. It was awkward; he was starting to feel uncomfortable about the sincerity Steve was trying to convey. 
“I don’t give a shit, it’s not like it bothered me,” Billy lied, speaking tersely. His stomach growled, and he placed a hand over it idly. “Trust me, I’ve been called worse things than that.” 
Steve’s shoulders slumped a bit as he worried the back of his hair into a knot. “Still,” he said awkwardly, finally turning away from the dark reflection of the vase, now absentmindedly trying to pull his fingers free, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, Billy huffed out a deep sigh and said, “Look, Harrington, if you’re willing to make me some pancakes and fry up some bologna we can call it even. Just, stop doing… whatever this is and let me shower.”
Steve paused to think about it. “Sure, okay, I can do that. I think we’ve got some pancake mix somewhere.” 
With that awkward bit of conversation out of the way, Billy eased up off of the wall he was perched upon and slid into the bathroom before Steve could make any sort of addendum and closed the door. He listened to the sounds of Steve’s retreating footsteps down the hall over the pouring water as he undid the tie around his hips and left the beanie on the sink counter, decidedly not looking in the mirror as he stepped into the strong, warm stream.
-----
Billy stayed in the shower for a long, long time.
Steve hadn’t really been expecting it to be a quick one, but still, as he stood over the stove making a tall stack of pancakes that would’ve been enough to satisfy the stomach of any starving man, he wondered just how long he needed. The water had to have been going cold by now.
The smell of the bologna frying in the pan had, at first, encouraged his appetite, but was now starting to turn his stomach. The smell of bologna alone had never been appealing to him, and to have to smell it as it cooked was nauseating.  He cut off the stove, transferred the fried meat to a serving plate, and then sat at the kitchen table to wait. 
He nibbled a little at a pancake, but couldn’t stomach the smell of the bologna well enough to finish it off. He waited at the table patiently, like a mother might when she was waiting for her kids to come down and eat and strained his ears to listen for when the water shut off upstairs. 
It didn’t, though. He could hear it trickling down through the pipes in the walls, quietly draining away whatever it was Billy was trying to cleanse himself of. 
Steve sighed miserably and folded his arms over the table, sliding the chair back far enough so he could rest his head over them like he used to in English. He closed his eyes (‘Just resting my eyes’, as his dad was prone to saying before he fell asleep on the couch), and soon found himself asleep.
-----
In a dream, it was snowing and he was driving, speeding along a narrow, unfamiliar road. 
‘Faster’, he was thinking to himself as he depressed the accelerator harder. ‘I have to go faster.’
A deep, dark blackness enveloped him from all sides outside of the car. He couldn’t see through it or if anything was in it, even though he knew, intrinsically, that he had his high beams on and should have at least been able to see where he was going. The road before him manifested as a slick black line, wavering in and out of focus between his rapidly swishing windshield wipers and the oncoming flurry.
He was in a hurry, though he didn’t know why. Billy was fine. Sitting in the passenger seat beside him, he looked almost bored with Steve’s pedestrian effort to save him.
“I’m doing my best,” Steve said, unsure of why he was now crying. “I’m going as fast as I can- please, please just understand that.”
“You haven’t done enough,” Billy responded in a voice that both was and wasn’t his own. It hurt Steve’s ears to listen to as he whimpered involuntarily. “I’m already lost.”
Alarmed, Steve took his eyes off the road to look at Billy and found him looking back. His eyes were a dark, glowing red, and he sat with his hand perched on the door handle. In the window behind him, red eyes that mirrored his own were slowly emerging from the darkness, coming so close to the car that the glass was beginning to fog up from its panting breath. How it was able to keep pace with the car when Steve had the accelerator pressed against the floor was unknown and frightening to him.
“Don’t,” Steve begged as Billy’s fingers curled around the handle, getting ready to pull it open like an emergency exit, “I can still help you.”
“I’ve been lied to before,” Billy said solemnly, his two-toned voice warbling as he pulled on the handle and opened the door to give himself over to the creature that was waiting hungrily by the window.
-----
“The fuck is this?”
Steve opened his eyes abruptly and nearly fell out of his seat as he transitioned into a wakeful state. Startled, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes uncomprehendingly.
“They’re just pancakes, Hargrove, don’t be rude,” he said sleepily without fully realizing what it was Billy was talking about. “Misshapen, maybe, but still just pancakes.”
Freshly showered, Billy stood before him wearing the beanie taken from Dustin’s house and some of Steve’s own clothing. An old ‘Hawkins High Phys. Ed.’ shirt clung tightly to his torso, baring a little bit of midriff above the hem of some old sweats. In his hand he held Steve’s two-way radio Dustin had gifted him to include him as part of their party, and through that radio he could hear Max’s voice trying to make contact.
“Steve, come in, Steve! Are you there?”
“Why do you have a two-way radio to my little sister sitting by your bed?” Billy asked icily, unabashed anger seeping out of his very being. 
“What the hell were you doing in my bedroom?” Steve countered, feeling his stomach drop when he came to understand the implications Billy was making. He stood up and made to swipe the radio from Billy’s hand. “It’s seriously not what you think.”
“Remind me, where have I heard that one before?” Billy pulled the radio easily out of Steve’s reach, glowering at him as they faced off. “This looks pretty fucking bad for you, Harrington; she’s not even fifteen yet, you sick fuck.”
“It’s not just for your sister,” Steve said heatedly, then, realizing how that sounded, amended by saying, “Look, I know you know I take care of her friends- this, it’s just-  it’s just a radio to communicate with them, alright? They’re weird nerds who don’t like to use phones like normal people. It’s not for anything as dirty as you’re imagining, so would you quit looking for reasons to hate me when I haven’t even done anything?”
Sighing, Steve ran a hand through his hair and reached out for the radio, silently asking for it to be handed over. Billy continued to hold it, staring at him with an indecipherable look on his face. They stood at odds with one another before Dustin’s voice came through the radio speaker.
“Steve! It’s Dustin, we have a situation- please advise. Come in, Steve! Over!” 
Billy looked at the radio in his hand and then at Steve with a scowl. He looked bored as he finally relinquished it without further fuss, sitting down at the table opposite of Steve and pulling the plates of food towards him. He gave him a mean look as he began sandwiching the fried slices of bologna between a couple pancakes before biting into them. 
Relieved and annoyed, Steve turned away to speak into the radio. “I’m here, I’m here, sorry, what’s up?”
“Oh my God, it’s about time!” Dustin huffed. “You said you’d radio me later and you never did! Over.”
“Some stuff came up,” Steve mumbled, sitting down at the table and rubbing at his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Will,” Dustin explained. Steve frowned. “He says he saw something last night that might have to do with the Mind Flayer-”
“Whoa whoa whoa! Hold on a second,” Steve interrupted quickly, casting a furtive glance towards Billy who was now watching him suspiciously. “I’m uh, I’m not alone over here.”
There was silence on the radio after Steve let up on the talk button. Billy squinted at him and mouthed ‘it’s not what you think’ sardonically at him. Steve sighed and shrugged; there wasn’t an easy way to explain this.
“I swear Steve, if you’ve been ignoring us because you’re with a GIRL-”
“No!” Steve exclaimed in frustration. Why did it seem like everyone was against him today? “I’m not- I’m not with a girl; haven’t even been with a girl since-”
“Oh, Steve,” Billy chirped in an ugly, high falsetto, speaking loudly enough for the radio to catch and relay his voice clearly. “Quit playing with that toy and come back to play with me.”
Horrified at Billy’s poor impression of a girl, Steve turned to face him with a look of shock.
“What the hell is your damage Hargrove? You know they probably heard that,” he hissed as he let took his finger off the talk button. “Why do you constantly have to prove yourself as being the biggest thorn in my side? Can’t you hop off my dick for five fucking minutes?”
Billy snickered and laughed, clearly satisfied with himself. He shot him a wink when Steve turned up his middle finger at him and bit down on another one of his weird bologna/pancake amalgamations. 
“Was that Billy?”
Max’s voice. Both Steve and Billy froze as she called them out, sharing a mutual look of horror at having been recognized. 
“Steve? Why are you with Billy?”
“Uh.” Wide-eyed, he looked to Billy for help in answering, but was met with nothing but a look of shock. They both floundered for a moment, during which Billy took the chance to shove more food in his mouth as though to say he was currently preoccupied and couldn’t be assed to help explain. “It… wasn’t?” Steve finally answered lamely.
A strong silence permeated over the radio before it crackled and relayed Max’s voice as she said, “Steve, he’s made fun of me plenty of times that I’d know his ‘I’m a dumb girl’ voice from anywhere.”
Steve groaned and threw Billy a dirty look, to which he received a simple shrug in response. It wasn’t supposed to have been a secret, exactly, but his children knew the history between them just as well as he did and he’d eventually have to explain to them just how they’d come to be together sooner or later. “Alright, yeah, I’m with your brother. He’s at my place.”
“Step-brother,” Billy corrected gruffly, wiping away some crumbs from his mouth.
“Can he hear me right now?” Max asked.
“Uh,” Steve said. “Yeah, he can hear you,” he replied after Billy gave him the go-ahead.
“Don’t come home.”
At first, Steve thought she’d said it out of anger, or spite, or something. It was vague enough that it could have been construed that way (especially with how flatly she’d spoken), but the look on Billy’s face made it clear that it was less a threat and more a warning, of sorts. He stopped chewing his food, eyebrows coming together as he frowned deeply. That vaguely sorrowful look that had crept up around his eyes from before surfaced in his features again as he stared ahead of himself.
“Message received?” Steve asked quietly, unsure of how to process his change in demeanor, to which Billy gave a brief, curt nod. He shoved the plates of food away and sat back with a forlorn expression on his face. “Message received,” he repeated into the radio. “Could you uh, put Dustin back on? Who all’s over there with you guys?”
There was a moment of silence in which Steve pictured the radio changing hands. While he waited for a response, he pulled the dish with the pancakes on it closer towards himself and made a second attempt at eating one. 
“The whole party’s here, Steve. We have a situation that requires your assistance, over.”
“Yeah, I remember,” he said through a mouthful of soft food. “Not to be like, dismissive about it, but is there any chance it can wait? I’m kind of… ‘booked’, for the rest of the day; we can have, like, a group meeting and discuss things in person tomorrow, if it’s not urgent.”
He was careful not to mention how he planned on sharing Billy’s situation with them if they agreed, given how angry he’d been about the prospect earlier. It didn’t look as though Billy was paying him much attention at that point, however, as he stood up somberly and walked out of the dining room without a word, no longer interested in eavesdropping on his conversation. Steve wanted to follow after him to make sure he didn’t go anywhere he wasn’t supposed to, but stayed still and finished off the pancake he’d been eating.
“He says it’s not dire; just wanted us to be aware that something might be fucky. You wanna meet up with us tomorrow afternoon at Mike’s house? Over.”
“Sure, that’s fine,” Steve replied. He waited a moment to see if Billy was going to return, and when he was certain he wasn’t going to, he dropped his voice to a whisper and said, “I need you to do me a small favour before then, Henderson.”
“Oh my God, Steve, seriously? Another one? Over.”
Ignoring the indignation with which Dustin spoke, Steve continued. “I need you to research werewolves for me, alright? Like, specifically if it can be cured. Can you do that for me?”
“Uh, I mean, sure? Why though? Does this have something to do with our campaign? Over.” The fact that Dustin was so suspicious caused a little grin to spread out across Steve’s face. In spite of everything, leave it to Dustin to find a way to route it all back to the game he’d gotten him involved with.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” Steve said, unable to keep a teasing lilt from affecting the tone of his words. “And uh, just so you know, I’ll probably be bringing Max’s brother along, so don’t freak out if he shows up. Over and out, nerd.”
“Oh, now you decide to start using-”
Steve switched the radio off abruptly before Dustin could finish his sentence and set it face down on the surface of the table. He sat still for a moment, feeling his earlier exhaustion swirling within him like a snowglobe before he stood up and wandered out into the living room. He found Billy lying splayed out on the couch, eyes closed and resting easily atop the cushions.
“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you,” Steve said dryly, to which Billy gave a noncommittal grunt. “Do you, uh, need a place to stay tonight?” he asked awkwardly when he understood that Billy wasn’t going to move from his position.
Opening his eyes, Billy stared straight up at the ceiling with a stern look on his face. 
“I can stay with Tommy H. if it’s a problem,” he said after a minute. 
“I don’t really care what you do,” Steve replied, placing a hand on his hip. “But he’d ask questions, you know. You don’t really… look like how you should.” Billy heaved out a long and depressive sigh, shutting his eyes again. “It’s fine, though-  you can stay in the spare bedroom upstairs,” Steve offered.
“Couch is fine,” Billy mumbled. 
“You’d be missing out, it’s got a Queen-size mattress up there.” 
“Couch is fine,” Billy repeated tiredly.
Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself, I guess.” He studied Billy laid out flat across the couch and felt that familiar need to show him pity. He couldn’t help but wonder what Max’s warning applied to; wondered if Billy would tell him about it if he asked.
“You were right about what you said before.” Billy’s voice was soft with exhaustion, but even so, it managed to break into his thoughts. Steve gave him a look of incomprehension. “About my hair, you were right; it’s coming back.”
“Oh,” Steve said, refraining from tapping into his inherent desire to chirp ‘I told you so’ back at him. “That’s great, man. I knew it would.”
“Still paler than the underside of a witch’s tit though,” Billy muttered, holding up a hand to examine his new complexion morosely.
And, yeah, he was right: even though it seemed his hair was going to be restored to its former glory (given enough time), it didn’t look like the same could be said for his skin. He was still woefully pale, looking less like the golden god he’d been before and more like, as Billy had said, the pale underside of a witch’s tit. Steve eyed him contemplatively, trying to come up with a solution that didn’t involve him laying naked out in the snow to try and catch some sun.
“Do you remember Tammy Thomspon?” Steve asked eventually, to which Billy had to pause in order to connect the name with the person being referenced. Once he’d nodded, Steve continued. “She always had a tan year round; used to talk about how she’d go to like, tanning beds and stuff.”
“I am not going to a tanning salon, if that’s what you’re suggesting here Harrington,” Billy said decisively. 
“No no! She used to do tanning beds, but then she kept talking about how they were unhealthy and caused skin cancer and blah blah blah. Before the semester ended though, she said she started using some new thing; she was telling me about it in History before the final,” Steve elaborated, stepping further into the room to take a seat on the armrest of the couch. He snapped his fingers as he tried to remember what it was. “It was like, some spray on stuff? A spray-on tan, I think. You could try that? Wouldn't even have to go anywhere to get it done, I think it’s sold retail.”
Billy appeared lost in thought as he contemplated the option. He flexed his pale fingers and heaved another heavy sigh. “Anything would probably be better than this.”
‘You don’t- I mean, it’s not… you don’t look that bad,” Steve lied. Billy put his hand down and glared at him from the far end of the sofa. “Alright alright, so you look like the white end of a fingernail. We get some spray tan, rinse you in it, and presto, you’re back to being average, dark and handsome. I mean, if Tammy Thompson can do it, it shouldn’t be that hard, right?”
Billy snorted. “Handsome, huh? Probably not; she was as dumb as the rest of the cows here.”
“She wasn’t the brightest light in the shed,” Steve agreed, feeling the slightest bit embarrassed at having called Billy handsome. “But, cool; glad we got something sorted out today.
“I’ll be in my room if you need me for anything, and I know you already know where that is,” he said as he came to a rise, casting a snide look at Billy before heading back towards the staircase.
Predictably, Billy clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You realize you only gave me a towel earlier, right? I wasn’t about to put that thing on again. I wasn’t snooping; just trying to find a fucking change of clothes when I heard Maxine yelling for you on your shitty bedside table radio,” he said in that easy, drawling nature of his. “What was I supposed to think?”
“Why don’t you try thinking a little less and just ask instead of jumping to conclusions?” Steve huffed. He hadn’t wanted this to turn into another argument, but it seemed as though the conversation was quickly heading that way. “Look, I don’t- I’m too tired to argue with you. I’m gonna catch a nap and then we can like… I don’t know. Get some bottles of spray tan and hose you down in the backyard or something.”
Billy grunted in affirmation, and Steve was content to leave it at that. He shot Billy one last look before he stepped out of the living room, and, leaving the food out on the table where he’d left it, went straight up to his room. Like the condition he’d left Dustin’s cellar in, he’d clean up the dining room later.
As he entered his room, Steve was afraid, for a moment, that he’d find evidence of Billy having gone snooping through all of his belongings. It would’ve been just like him to try and find something else he could use to hold against him while Steve was unaware, but as he looked around the area carefully, it seemed as though his room appeared untouched. His closet was left open from where Billy had gone in to take the clothes he was currently wearing, but, true to his word, it didn’t look like he’d rifled any deeper into it then he’d needed to.
Relieved, Steve stepped forward until he was toe-to-hem with his bed and let himself fall face forward directly onto the mattress, exhaling a deep sigh once he collided with it. He laid there unmoving, breathing in the hot, trapped air between his face and his comforter before he rolled over and laid himself out spread-eagle to look up at the ceiling.  
“Why does this have to be so much harder than it is?” he groaned, cupping his hands together to cover his face. The familiar question he’d wrestled with of ‘why me?’ that he’d been struggling to answer since any of this started began cycling through his mind. Of course, now that he had time to rest, his brain wouldn’t let him. 
He just wanted to help, and already he’d almost lost the trust of the only two people he could rely on. Neither of them seemed to understand that it was too great a burden for one person to have to shoulder alone. It needed to be a team effort, but no one seemed willing to branch out and make it one. Once again, it was left to him to take the initiative.
“Why is it so hard for me to help anyone in this damn town?” he moaned.
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