#it's also sad in context but at least there' build up

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: a helping hand turns an enemy into a friend for one single night of truce. one single night that ends up redefining their entire relationship, the start of where everything is about to change.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,4k warnings: mentions of heavy drinking, sex, p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, language, size kink, breast play, male dominance, jason's sex stimulated superiority complex

a/n: the fact this was supposed to be way longer scared me of how many chapters i might need to end this series lol. and i tried making it possible to read without the context of the series for those who just want to read a nice smut lol. also, thank you for all the support thus far, it has been incredible seeing so many people invested in this story and wanting to see its development. thank you thank you thank you for supporting this silly writer's dream. ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

Thanks, man. Have a good night. Shutting the door closed behind him, Jason thanked the driver before he watched his Uber ride drive his car away, turning the corner and leaving the street he was left on. The night was cold and dark, the faint lighting of the streetlamp doing nothing to provide him a clear view of his ambiance, instead, all was gloom.

 Standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, he let out a deep, long sigh. It was late, really late, past 1am the last time he checked, and the weight of the alcohol in his system begged him to find his way to bed. But the soft, barely audible, breaths of the lady behind him reminded Jason he still had a task ahead: getting you to his apartment.

As a strong wind blew past him, he zipped his jacket up, protecting himself from the unusually chilly night, for this time of the year at least, and turned on his heels to find you resting against the stony wall of the old structure, eyes narrowly managing to remain open. You felt the weather as much as he did, hugging yourself to acquire some type of warmth despite your inappropriate attire.

Carefully, he approached your sleepy frame and guided you inside, a hand placed on your back the entire walk up the stairs. Jason’s building was old, but well maintained.  Meaning, it looked decent for all the decades it’d been through, but didn’t have an elevator casting on whoever lived on the last floor (Jason) the curse to climb all the way up every single day.

Already struggling due to the alcohol and tiredness, halfway through your journey you let out a moan without realizing. Your pace grew slower, and you lacked the effort to simply lift your legs and place your foot on the next step.

“Come on, love. We’re getting closer.” Jason said, pausing right behind you. He had to hold his laugh as you turned back to face him, eyes watery and lips sticking out in a pout.

“Why didn’t we use the elevator? Do you hate me?” you cried.

“Not everyone has daddy’s money to afford an apartment with an elevator,” he joked, but your response caught him by surprise, as your face crunched into a sort of angry expression mixed with a tint of sadness.

“I’m not… I…” you tried to mumble out, but failed countless times. “My feet hurt!”

Sighing deeply once more, he pushed you up by your waist, hands placed safely around you but alway mindful of its position. As you reached the next floor, you thanked your slow mind tonight for not allowing a scream to leave your mouth when Jason grabbed your legs and lifted you up so he could carry you to his apartment.

You had to say, it should’ve surprised you that he carried you with what seemed like a total lack of effort on his part, like you weighed nothing. However, you knew him. You knew he spent countless hours training at the gym, to the point you often wondered if he didn’t live there as well. That he’d often pass you carrying up to eight different weight plates in one single trip to use in his next exercise.

It did surprise you he could carry you. It surprised you he actually did it.

On his arm, the sweet coconut smell reached your nose, and you had to hold yourself from feeling sick. The alcohol was doing its job on you, and gosh you hated it. Tiredness taking over, you rested your head on his shoulder and fought against yourself to keep your eyes open.

“How much do you lift?” you mumbled a question, poking the bicep within your reach. You felt his breath hit your skin as he let out a soft chuckle.

“A lot more than you weight.” he stated, and continued his climb silently until you two were inside his deliciously warm and scrupulously tidy apartment. “Come,” he called after you when your feet were back on the ground. You followed him through the darkened living room until he opened a door and turned the light on in his bedroom. “You can sleep here, I’ll take the sofa.”

Your polite and sober side wanted to complain, to offer to sleep on the sofa instead, but your drunk and seriously exhausted one just wanted to throw yourself on the bed. Accepting the drunk side’s victory, you sat down with a noise and laid on his bed, eyes closing soon after, but being forced to open as you felt the mattress sink right beside you.

Struggling to lift your head, you found Jason bent down to catch your feet, loosening the laces of your converse and helping you take them off. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed as you sat up again and started to unhook your bra from beneath your shirt.

Jason got nervous, eyes quickly shifting from you to the floor, not knowing what to do. Pulling your bra off through one of your sleeves, he took it as his key to leave you alone before you could start stripping off your pants too. Standing up, he reached the bedroom door just as you were climbing under the duvet, head laying on the pillow with eyes already closed. 

He knew that, in your state, it wouldn’t be long before you were in deep slumber. So, turning off the lights, peeking at you one last time, he closed the door behind him. Careful to not make any noise. Careful not to wake you up. Unaware of the smile gracing his lips.

It’d been well over an hour since you had fallen asleep. The darkness still loomed outside, but the dim lighting of Jason’s side table lamp illuminated his living room, casting a shadow upon his body.

Jason couldn’t fall asleep, for some reason. He had tried lying down and forcing his eyes closed, had tried listening to whale sounds, rain sounds, brown, blue, black, white, purple noises. Nothing. Nothing seemed to put him to bed, not even his half drunk state.

So, feeling exhausted, he stood up from the sofa and went to the small kitchen to make himself some tea, hoping it would help him give in to sleep. He tried to be quiet, mindful of his guest still sleeping in his bed, filled his red mug with the tea and returned to the sofa, sitting beside his also sleeping kitten, whose snores were too loud for a beast of his size. 

The drink was warm, and the taste pleased him just enough. He immediately felt more relaxed, letting the warmth fill his entire body, as he laid back onto the sofa and he could really feel like he was starting to rest.

On the other hand, you woke up confused. It was dark, and the pillows were comfortable, but they didn’t smell like your soap, nor did you find your childhood plush toy just within reach on your bed. Suddenly sober, you almost jumped off the bed before the memories started flooding your mind.

Shit. You definitely weren’t home, and this home certainly wasn’t from someone you wished it was. Slowly, you remembered Jason helping you take your shoes off, remembered him helping you up the infinite stairs of his building. And gosh, you remembered his damned smirk while he flirted with you.

You were pissed. P-i-s-s-e-d. Pissed. Why did you do that, Yn? Why did you end up here? Where the fuck did Nessie go to and why didn’t you go home?

In the darkness, you felt your feet touch the cold wooden tiles and you had to bring them back up quickly, not expecting the chilly night weather, but soon remembering how cold you’d felt just before coming to his apartment. 

Your bare legs were feeling it too, and you struggled to find your pair of jeans. It wasn’t anywhere, goddamn it. There was no way you’d go out in only your shirt. You had to find something, and remembering you were in a 6 foot tall monster, you knew he ought to have something around. 

Blindly skirmishing through the room, you felt the soft cotton fabric of what seemed to be a hoodie and put it on. It fit largely on you, the hem falling on the middle of your thighs, and the strong smell of perfume lingering from it.

With light footsteps, you got to the door. Twisting the handle with care, you heard the cracking sound of the door as you opened it, exposing the dimly lit living room. Jason heard the same cracking sound you did, his head jolting back so fast he felt the muscles on his neck aching. 

There you were, hidden behind the door, a string of light illuminating your shape. You still looked sleepy, your cheeks puffed, and the minimum makeup you wore looked smashed on your face. But then, his eyes fell on your body, how your legs were bare and you somehow wore his favorite red hoodie.

Wow. Just, wow!

“Hey” he greeted, waving awkwardly in your direction. You only offered him a shy, toothless smile, eyes scanning the room and landing everywhere but him. “Did I wake you?” he asked, voice tinged by worry.

“No,” you shook your head, meeting his eyes for a brief while. His stare gave you goosebumps, and you returned your eyes to the floor, the tiling giving you more comfort. “I just… woke up.”

An awkward silence fell before you, neither brave enough to look at the other. The air was warm, you didn’t know if it was a sudden weather change or if it was the lingering tension between you two.

“I,” you started, and he immediately looked at you. “I think I’m gonna head home.” you announce, trying to return to the safety of his bedroom.

“No way,” he denied. “It’s almost 4am, Yn. There’s no way I’m letting you out this late. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

Sighing, you accepted defeat without even trying to counter argue, aware his decision was well intended, and you too didn’t feel like facing the gloomy and dangerous streets of Gotham at this hour of the night. So, you just nodded, looking back into the room without moving your feet.

“Can I give you something?” he then questioned. “I mean. Do you want anything? Food, water?” Like clockwork, your stomach roared, making your cheeks go red and a smirk to appear on Jason’s face. “I don’t have much in my pantry, but I can make you a sandwich.”

Standing up, he walked to the kitchen once again, mug in hand being left on the sink. He seemed to move around the small area seamlessly, his bigger size never slowing him down. He opened cabinets, taking out of it a couple of dishes and a bag with a long and crusty baguette. Slicing the bread in half and then open, he set it on the plates, spreading butter on top and fishing for the other ingredients from various parts of the kitchen.

“I’m not a chef, you know,” Jason told you while he fished for the cheese, the ham, the vegetables and something else from the fridge. In normal human arms, they’d probably have fallen due the lack of space, but they all seemed to fit in pretty well in his much larger ones. “But I do enjoy cooking sometimes.”

His whole energy levels seemed to rise, and a sparkle tingled in his eyes. He seems to really enjoy it, you thought, watching the scene unfold from the same spot under the doorframe you were not even two minutes before. He was swift, picking things up and down , left and right, with ease and started constructing a delicious looking late night meal.

With watchful steps, you walked closer, something in you wanting to watch him in action from up close. Too enticed by the way he moved, the way he meticulously cut the tomatoes, a green vegetable, that you didn’t recognize due to your total lack of cooking skills, and the garlic before shoving them on a blender. The noise that proceeded, a disturbance of the silence that reigned on the night, but when it ceased, the smell that spread across the room seemed all worth it.

Continuing his craft, he was swift, picking things up and down with ease, spreading butter on the bread, adding cheese, sliced turkey from the smell of it, and the tomatoes. He grilled it on a pan he had started to heat while he assembled your snacks, and shortly after, placed a plate with the sandwich in front of you on the kitchen island.

“I didn’t know if you liked pesto, so I left it here for you to dip in if you want.” he stated, placing a small bowl with the green sauce he’d blended together earlier.

“Wow,” was all you could manage to say, the sandwich’s look worthy of those pins you’d constantly save on Pintrest but never make it yourself. Picking it up with one hand, you wanted to try it first on its own, your stomach getting louder, apparently aware you were just about to fill it and getting anxious over the masterpiece crafted just before your eyes. “Hmmm,” you hummed loudly, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste, your mouth already watering for one more bite.

You heard Jason’s breathy laugh, and your attention was instantly brought back to him. Supported by his elbows on the marble island, he sat beside you, his side profile a beautiful view from where you stood. He had a smirk on his lips, not smug or annoying or flirtatious like he usually had, but a lighthearted and fun one. One that didn’t drive you insane.

Looking at him, though, side by side with you, after making you a sandwich at almost 4am in the morning, you felt a lump on your throat you could not explain or justify. It was something no one had ever done for you and for some reason you wanted to cry. But you wouldn’t, instead, opting to do the sanest thing anyone could do in your position.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his eyes darting to yours and his eyebrows doing their annoying move and lifting up in question. “For everything. Tonight, especially, but at the hospital too. You were really kind and you didn’t have to do either of those things. So, thank you, really.”

A smile you could not decipher clouded his lips, and his eyes shone with a glint of mischievousness you could not mistake. “Say it again?” he joked, and you had to roll your eyes.

“Jerk.”

“Sounds more like you,” he sneered, finally taking a bite out of his sandwich. He dipped it in the sauce, taking another bite, and you took your time admiring his jaw clenching as he chewed. “But you don’t need to thank me. I hurt you that day and it was the polite thing to do. And I couldn’t just leave you drunk at the party, it didn’t seem right.”

“Why not?” you questioned. “There were many other drunk girls at the party.”

“Yeah, but none of them looked like they didn’t belong there,” he stated, soon regretting letting those words out of his lips. He knew it’d bring out more questions, and he didn’t want to spend his night explaining how you would linger in his head on a daily basis.

“Why not?” If Jason wasn’t so tired, he’d notice you’d felt insulted.

“I don’t mean today,” he said, playing with the sauce with his sandwich. “You were having fun today, but I’ve seen you before…”

“Why?” you insisted impatiently.

“Because people go to parties for either or two things: to have fun with their friends or to find a hookup,” he lifted two of his long fingers to you. “That day, you were clearly alone. You stood to the side all night, not talking to anyone, almost barking at whoever came closer. Option one impossible. And you also weren’t exposing too much skin to fit into the other.”

“I was having fun tonight!” you tried to argue.

“Yeah, but your friend had disappeared. And you were too drunk. I couldn’t leave you there, alone to the wolves,” he concluded, staring deep into your eyes. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.”

He seemed honest. And nice. Actually nice, like, he looked like a decent person, not the one you villainized in your thoughts every day. He was nice, a sweetheart, and a great cook if his sandwich was any indication of what else he could do in a kitchen. It wasn’t supposed to, but it only made you madder at him. You wanted to punch his face while also giving him a kiss. Stop it, Yn, don’t go that far.

You were quiet, not knowing what else to say. Jason decided on not speaking too, buried in his own thoughts, afraid he’d let too much out. Finishing your food, you dipped the bread into the pesto when the intrusive thoughts came over, and for once, you let them win.

“No…” Jason gasped when he felt the cold sauce on his cheek. You let out a good chuckle, looking at the green stain on his face. Your masterpiece. But Jason was competitive, he wouldn’t let you win. So, he dipped his own bread in the sauce and tried to do the same as you, but you held his arms to stop him before he could stain yet another one of your shirts. His in this case.

It took all your strength to keep his arms away, your laughter, louder than it had been in a long while, making the job much more difficult. “Jason,” you screamed when he got too close for your liking, but you managed to hold his hand and, to his surprise, took one bite of his weapon.

You really couldn’t stop laughing. Tears formed in your eyes from it, and all Jason could do was shake his head and finish the last bite of his sandwich you’d left for him. He felt good seeing you smile again, laughing even, and he just confirmed it was now one of his favorite sounds. It wasn’t polished, it was loud, fun. Everything you usually weren’t, but proof you could be sometimes, if only you’d allow yourself to let loose.

He waited till you calmed down, taking deep breaths to steady it. Then, you stretched your arms to grab a towel opposite of you on the islands, cleaning your hands before looking back at him. “Here,” you called.

His heart stopped. Your hands going for his chin and pulling his face closer to yours, cleaning the pesto stain you’d left on his cheek. Jason had never seen you from this close, every detail exposed to him. The way you sucked in your cheeks in concentration, as you cleaned his face, your soft touch barely brushing his skin, aware not to give him any type of skin irritation.

From this close, he could get a better glimpse of your lips. How they were plumb from you biting on it, how reddish they were, how soft they looked. He watched them as the tip of your smile briefly lifted up. And then, watched your tongue leaving them wet.

You were aware of closeness too. But you had committed to cleaning the stain, you couldn’t show him any weakness now. Pulling away slowly, you noticed his eyes lingering on your lips, setting your stomach in a spiral. He bit his lips, lifting his eyes to look at yours through his lashes, and your heart nearly stopped. Your breath hitched, and you had to look away.

“Hmm,” you started, avoiding his gaze and himself entirely. “I think I’ll go back to bed, it’s late.”

Something inside Jason dropped, and he felt a weight in his chest. You stood up quickly, and walked back into the bedroom without looking back. Fuck, he wanted to scream, but he had to contain himself. So, he stood up, set the plates on the sink and made his way back to the sofa. The tightness in his jeans making it uncomfortable to walk.

Resting against the door as you closed it, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your heart raced, wanting to break free from your chest, and you felt the warmth rising from within you. Your legs trembled a little, and your mind flew to things you did not wish to think of right now.

You couldn’t give in. You couldn’t. Jason meant trouble, and trouble meant bad things. You couldn’t let yourself fall for it again. You couldn’t invite trouble in, even if it looked as pleasing as he did. He was nice to you tonight because he was polite, but you knew his type well and knew it never ended well. He was just like the others, he’s not perfect, stop it!

A knock on the door broke you from your thoughts, and as if caught doing something bad, you were quick to react to opening it.

“Can I just get some clothes?” Jason asked, heading poking inside. “I just don’t want to sleep in the same clothes from the party.”

Giving him space, you allowed him in. He gave you a weak smile as he pass you, going in the direction of his closet. He indeed was wearing the same outfit from earlier, jeans, and a white shirt you could notice had some green stains on it. Karma.

“I’ve noticed you found my hoodie,” he pointed out while fishing for his pajamas, making your cheeks burn red. You went to apologize, but he was quicker to continue. “You can keep it, if it makes you comfortable.”

He turned back to face you, and you offered him a smile in gratitude. Suddenly mindful of your exposed legs, you tried to hide it with your hands, but you noticed how it only got his attention in that direction. He was about to leave when something made him stop.

“I need a blanket,” he said, running back to the closet. “Just a minute.”Jason was tall, but he seemingly was part of the crew who would hide their blankets on the tallest shelves, so tall that even he couldn’t reach properly. He stretched his arms up, the heels of his feet not touching the floor, and his shirt lifted up just a little. A treat for a very tired Yn to enjoy.

From your position, you caught a sight of his stomach up to his belly button. The toned muscles on the base of his abs made a perfect V shape, pointing downwards to a place you avoided imagining. A few of his tattoos peeked in and out of view as he moved, decorating his skin in drawings you could hardly identify. The thin line of hair going down the cherry on top of this tempting monstrosity.

Through his white t-shirt, you spotted the silhouette of his  back muscles. Well defined, well designed, strong enough to carry two of you up the stairs, and wide enough making it the perfect canvas to be painted by your nails.

You knew your mind was traveling through a very dangerous territory. You knew where it was going. You knew the consequences, yet you wanted it. You wanted the danger, you wanted the consequence. Just this once. Just this once you wanted the bad, the naughty, the dangerous. You wanted Jason. You wanted him. You wanted him.

Fuck, you wanted to scream. Run at him, kiss him. Kiss up the hair line on his stomach, up his abs, his chest. Damn it!

You didn’t notice him moving, wishing you a good night, walking to the door. You didn’t notice any of it. Didn’t notice his intoxicating smell leaving the room, because you knew your mind could make it up pretty quickly. Filling your nose with his inexistent scent. His shadow looming around you, with you at all times.

“Yn,” he broke you from your thoughts. He was worried. You stood still before the bed, not moving since he walked past you, not even your eyes following him along, or moving somewhere else. He’d called you before, but you hadn’t noticed. “Are you alright?”

He’d walked back in, closer to you. Approaching you worriedly, your breathing heavy, eyes now lingering on him. He couldn’t decipher them. They were darker, darker than he’d ever seen them. They hid something, something he couldn’t figure out.

“Yeah,” you breathed out a reply. “I’m fine,” you confirmed, arm extending to touch his chest. Jason’s breath got caught on his throat, and when he looked back at you, he found your eyes, and finally could decipher them. “I’m really fine.”

Sliding your hands from his chest up to his neck, you brought him closer, slamming your lips against his. A shiver climbed up your spine as you felt his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, and yours soon fought with him for dominance.

You couldn’t explain it. It just fit. He kissed you hungrily, like he’d been wanting it for long, and you replied with the same ferociousness, wanting him closer, more and more. You fingers tugged at the little hairs at the nape of his neck, and he moaned inside your mouth, the vibration reverberating through your entire body.

His hands roamed your skin. Squeezing your ass, caressing your back from underneath his hoodie. The feeling of his hands around you waking the little hairs on your body wherever they touched, leaving behind a burning sensation, a need for more of his touch all over body.

Stumbling, you two took a few footsteps backwards, feeling the ends of the bed hit your calves. He carefully lowered you on top of it, not breaking your kiss until you were left out of breath. When you two finally broke apart, he took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head, exposing you to the tattoos you’d had a hard time identifying earlier.

An angel falling graced his left ribs, while something was written underneath his right boob. Overwall, you couldn’t count how many were there, you just knew they made him sexier and your cunt ache harder for him. Lifting yourself up a little, you pulled him back to you by the hem of his jeans, your mouths meeting soon after, afraid that if you had too much time to think about it, your mind would force you to stop whatever the hell this was.

On top of you, lips glued to yours, Jason started grinding his crotch against your clothed core, feeling his hardness through the harsh fabric of his jeans and only eliciting your arousal. Trapping your legs around his waist, you bent your back so you could reach him further, grinding yourself against him in a clothed love making session.

You wanted more. You need more. Desperately wanting him in. It was a wild, primal feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in ages. Or ever at all. You needed him, like you needed air. You needed his tongue all over you, not just on your lips or occasionally traveling to your neck.

His hands slid underneath your shirt, and he broke the kiss to ask you for permission to take it off. His eyes looked at you with a mix of lust and something else, something softer. With a nod, he swiftly had both your shirt and his hoodie thrown off somewhere in his bedroom. 

You didn’t want to waste more time, sliding your underwear off too as soon as your breasts were freed, finding yourself fully exposed to the guy that just a few hours ago you would rather find dead than in his bed. 

Seeing you rush your underwear off, Jason had to stop and admire. Admire your body and all your curves. Your bare chest, your hard nipples, a sight Jason wanted pictured in his mind forever.

He wanted to remember how your excitement dripped off your thighs, its smell reaching his nose, intoxicating him. Driving him crazier for you than he already was. He really wanted to rip his pants off and fuck you right then and there. Slam his dick into you until he had you screaming out his name for the whole neighborhood to hear. But he also wanted to devour you little by little, taste every corner of your skin.

Pulling you closer from under the knee, he spread you open and fell on top of you again, resuming the action on your lips before moving his kisses down your neck and to your chest. He made sure to leave marks wherever he’d go. He made sure to bite, to suck on your skin until little red and purple stains decorated you instead of your shirt.

His hand, once holding tightly at your waist, found its way down too. Sliding to your arousal, he felt his fingers drench wet as they reached your soaked pussy. Finding you like that, so wet from just his kisses and touches, boosted his ego, giving him extra confidence he could do to you whatever he wanted.

Pushing one finger into you, he felt your body jolt up. He laughed against your skin as his mouth finally found its way to your breasts. He fucked you with one finger while sucking harshly at your nipples. You moaned loud, already feeling a tightness forming on your belly, that sweet but painful sensation you hadn’t felt in a while.

When he pushed another finger inside of you, speeding up his movements in and out while his thumb managed to somehow rub at your clit till it ached, it didn’t take long for you to see black spots in your sight. It did take long for your back to arch up, a muffled scream leaving your lung.

Nibbling at your nipple still, Jason took your moans and screams as motivation. He laughed as you came as if you were just a prey he was playing with, mocking your petite, fragile frame underneath him. Slapping your cunt, he moved his mouth to quickly play with your neglected boob before his tongue drew a line from between your breasts to the entrance to your core.

You could already feel your breath leaving your lungs, your mind half numb from your orgasm and tiredness. His breath hit your folds, as he pecked his way down to your entrance, licking from your ass to your clit, as you had to put a hand over your mouth to stop your screams.

Like a thirsty dog, Jason licked you up and down between your lower lips. His whole mouth stuffed on your vagina, enjoying your sweet taste filling his taste buds. You squirmed from the sensasion, so much he had to pin you down with his strong arms. You tried to push his head away, tug on his hair, anything to make him stop, already aching down there. But it also felt good, and you could feel another orgasm growing inside you.

However, he removed his face from your cunt as soon as he felt you were about to come. He was enjoying torturing you, making you weak to his touch. He wasn’t going to give in much easier, but he also needed to feel you. Feel you around him, sucking him dry till he himself was left just a moaning mess.

Fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants, he managed them down his legs, pulling with them his boxers, letting his hard penis hit against his stomach. You let out a gasp when you saw his erection, already knowing it was going to hurt but be so worth it. He was thick, probably the size of your hands around it, and just long enough.

Jason looked around, trying to remember where he’d last put his condoms on, before your voice void his mind of any coherent thought.

“Fuck me, Jason,” you begged, hands reach to touch his dick. “Please, fuck me.”

“Fuuuck,” he let out a loud and prolonged groan, forgetting everything and placing himself at your entrance. He pushed the tip in, getting a painful moan out of you. You were tight, but he was going to make himself fit. 

Collecting your juices, he rubbed it along his shaft, pressing himself in ever so slowly. As he entered, you molded yourself perfectly around him, taking him in entirely eventually. He let you adjust, allowing you to get used to his size. Lowering down, he pulled you into another kiss. This time, deeper, slower, hotter.

He started with slow thrusts, moving out entirely before placing himself back in. You moaned and your body jumped every time he moved. His low groans on your ear making you wetter, and his speed started to pick up. 

The sound of skin hitting skin getting louder, filling the room along the strong smell of your sinful act. The bed creaked and hit against the wall along with Jason’s thrusts. He started to gain more and more speed, taking one of your legs and placing it on his shoulder.

He modded as the action gave him more access to your cunt, speed going so fast your boobs bounced up and down vigorously. With the spare had the wasn’t holding your leg up, he reached for your clit and your moans only got louder, screaming Jason’s name like a fucking prayer. Begging for release.

He’d sobered up from the party a long time ago, but he was getting drunk on the sight of your glistening skin, coated in sweat, screaming his name as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Not rolling out of anger, or annoyance. But because he was making you feel so fucking good you couldn’t control yourself anymore.

Jason felt like a king. Total control over you as you felt your mind go numb, drunk on his cock, drunk on the sensation he was giving you. He moved his hips harshly, slamming against your wet core like a MMA fighter fights his opponent. He felt the growing knot on his abdomen, speeding his thumb’s movements, wanting you to cum along with him.

A few more thrusts had you screaming so loud Jason had to put his hands over your mouth to shut you up, afraid his neighbors wouldn’t enjoy your fucked up symphony. He felt your release hitting his cock and he too released inside of you, feeling your walls clenching around him, milking his ball dry of any cum he had to offer.

The room was now filled with groans and heavy breaths. The air was thick and warm, and the smell of sex sticking to every corner. He pulled out, watching you juices mixed up and dripping off your pussy. Sticking a finger inside, he took some of you mixed orgasm and put it on his tongue. He didn’t lick it, instead just placing it there before lowering himself to give you a kiss, making sure you two got to taste your second late night snack together.

When you pulled away, begging for air, he had his forehead rested on yours. His eyes were closed, and his hair stuck to your forehead from sweat. Something you’d seen many times at the gym, now got a completely new meaning to you. One you enjoyed a lot more, seeing and making it happen.

You too closed your eyes, tiredness weighing your lashes down, as you barely missed Jason’s body falling beside you. You also missed his arms wrapping around your waist, and his face snuggling into your neck. Soon falling into slumber, a delicious ache on your core, as the dream world quickly took over you.

It wasn’t until hours later that the bright sun beams hit your eyes, or the loud noises of Gotham’s traffic found your ears. Eyes taking too long to open, as you woke up more tired than usual. Your body ached in pain, every muscle seemingly sore, but you didn’t remember going to the gym yesterday.

You only remembered you had to work and ended up getting drunk at a party. You remembered getting mad at your parents and deciding you had to release all your anger doing something they’d despise. You remembered your gym enemy taking you home. To his or mine? You wondered, eyes finally opening to the unknown bedroom.

Fuck. Looking behind you, you found Jason’s body spread on the same bed you now laid, and you quickly became aware of your own lack of an outfit. No, no, no. You went too far. You were just supposed to get drunk at a party, not fuck a stranger, Yn. Not fuck fucking Jason!

Carefully removing the duvet off of you, you slipped out of bed and fished for your clothes around his bedroom. Your shirt was tangled on his hoodie you had worn last night, and your panties were thrown on the other side of it. Your bra rested on the bedside table on Jason’s side of the bed, while your jeans were perfectly folded on top of a chair.

You tried to be quiet, to put your clothes back on without making any noise. But your own constant shits and fucks didn’t help your case, and as you buttoned your jeans you heard shuffling on the bed. Jason rubbed his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. “Yn? What are you…”

“THIS IS FUCKED UP!” you screamed, his eyes jolting open at your reaction. “We shouldn’t have done this, Jason.”

“Woah, I didn’t do it alone.” he replied, feeling annoyed at the tone you’d been treating this interaction with.

“We shouldn’t. We…” you wanted to cry, pissed off you’d let yourself sleep with him of all people. Taking your shoes, you rushed out of the room, wanting all of this to be just a silly little memory of a silly little moment when you had lost control.

Opening the door to the living room, you stepped on something that bit your leg in return, a loud hiss forcing your eyes to the black kitten clutched to your leg. Shaking the cat off of you, you proceeded with your run of shame.

“Yn!” Jason screamed after you, but your feet never ceased, and you ran down the stairs. Eyes only jumping up to find him as he stood by the door. The towel you’d cleaned his cheeks with hardly managing to hide his groin. The last sight you got of him haunting you for the days that followed. His sad eyes, frown and pressed closed lips a memory from his heartbreak.

.

.

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#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

[somnambulic-thing]

insane

musician!Eddie x afab art student!Reader E 18+ | 4.6k Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, but I'm an enby bitch and write my readers that way. You decide.

A/N: I wrote this right after finishing Paint It Black while my brain was still stuck in that universe. It is, however, not really what I would call a thought through finished/rounded story, since I lost steam at some point. It stops at the end of a scene without a cliffhanger or anthing like that. It's 1st draft quality, but I thought it would be sad if it withered away in my drafts if there is the chance that at least a few people enjoy it. It should work as a standalone when you're willing to maybe not get a few references. There's some context in the beginning. Again, you decide.

CW |strangers to lovers aka feral love at first sight, light smut: piv, fluff, showering together, intense feelings of falling in love, Corroded Coffin concert, Erica on the bass (guess she's a little older in this universe), Eddie POV, Steve POV in 3rd person, other ST characters, worried, protective but supportive friends, mentions of food, traces of Jonathan/Argyle|

It was like Eddie was going a little insane. It felt unreal that it hadn’t been quite twenty-four hours since he'd seen you for the first time, up in the second row of that life drawing class. Gareth had been working as an exhibition tech for that art school in that fancy old building for two months and was pretty enthusiastic about it. Like he was part of a community now - which was the way Gareth went about things these days - and he needed to support all those artists in becoming by leaving those flyers for life modelling fucking everywhere.

Gareth would be elated to hear how committed Eddie had been on his first job.

He looked at you fast asleep beside him, naked and covered in blue and purple marks his mouth had left all over you and felt a little insane again. There was this urge to move over and press his face into the soft skin of your chest until he was desperate for breath He also never wanted you to wake up and this moment to end. Blue morning light played with your skin while you looked so peaceful despite the traces of debauchery.

A sigh slipped from his mouth and you stirred, brows drawing together slightly and he wanted to kiss the spot in between. Hell, it was like that with everything.

After Eddie had asked you where you wanted to shower off the sweat and black paint, he had taken you home. In the car, you had reached out to the radio and he had to snatch your hand before you could pull it back to kiss the tips of your fingers. When you had kicked off your shoes in his hallway, the tip of your tongue had peeked out of your mouth and he just had to kiss it. Every little detail he learned about the way your body behaved, he wanted to put his praise to it.

You had talked nonstop all the way to Eddie's place, up the stairs, out of your clothes again and into the shower. There was something sublime in the way the paint rinsed off your body. Black flaky streams of water making their way over the hills and valleys of your physique. That too made him feel a little insane and you agreed with him when he'd told you about it. Shit, he wanted to tell you about everything that crossed his mind, wanted to hear your thoughts about the smallest details. Then you had moved behind him, soap coating your palms and washed him until the only black remaining on him was permanent ink.

You had told him, while slathering him in foam and bubbles, that it made you a little crazy how his wet skin reflected the light. Something about undertones you needed to study - Eddie needed to ask about that later in detail - and he had finally calmed down a little. He wasn't going insane alone, you were just as crazy about him.

Jeff had come home while the both of you had spent a little eternity in the bathroom and the intensity with which Eddie wanted to introduce you to his best friend as 'his' was only topped by the urge of getting you into his bed. Maybe it was better for you to get to know his friends when you weren't just wearing a towel and bite marks. Pride had flooded Eddie when Jeff pulled up his eyebrows paired with a smirk and a raised thumb as he rushed you through the hallway into his room.

It had been hard to hold back and let you look around as you wandered so far away from the mattress he was so determined to fuck you through.

"DnD?" you had asked, head stuck in a shelf displaying all kinds of DnD paraphernalia. Eddie loved your voice when it asked questions.

"Uh-hn. Since I was a kid. My uncle bought me a handbook at a yard sale because he thought I’d like the pictures and I've been hooked ever since."

There was adoration in your eyes and excitement in your voice. "So you’re a nerd?"

"Guilty as charged."

You bit your finger with a small smile and he of course wanted to kiss all of it. "Dungeon Master, by any chance?"

Not for the first time today Eddie asked with a stunned face: "How do you know?" Followed by: "Do you play?"

"You have this..." you waved around your beautiful hands while looking for the right words, "this way of taking charge and narrating your thoughts... and I have played before, yes, but not in a long time."

And then Eddie had stolen your towel and went to work on that mental list of places he needed to kiss. His hand found its way between your thighs, slow and soft this time and finally, you found your way into Eddie's bed and under him and he back inside you.

There was no rush, no hard fast urgency - well, he took you hard by the end because you liked it when he shattered you a little. You had told him that between licking into his mouth while he rolled his hips against you, his aching cock sliding against your folds, teasing you just a little before turning you to your side, watching himself slide into you in the mirror across the room.

You had ordered food, that you had shared in bed. You were so fucking funny all the time that he kept dropping shit and a change of sheets was due because there was no way Eddie would spend his first night with you between food-stained covers.

There had been no conversation if you'd stay, you just did. It would have been a waste of time, breath lost that could be used to learn more about you, tell you more about him.

By four in the morning, you both knew a lot and entirely too little. It was ridiculous.

And that brought him here, looking at you asleep and too good to be true. It was a little painful, actually. But just like when you pulled his hair or bit at his neck or hips, Eddie wanted to lean into it.

"You... staring at me, Munson?"

"Studying you." He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Too bad my drawing skills are so fucking rusty..."

Ah, he made you smile; how addictive that was. "You’re studying me from too far away. Come here."

"Needy?" he asked as he pressed himself against you, burying his face in your neck. It couldn't be a coincidence that he fit in there so perfectly.

"Hmmm, just like you."

"M' bad at hiding that, aren’t I?"

A kiss landed on his hair, nails softly grazed over the curve of his spine. "Why the fuck would you want to do that?"

"Don’t want to scare you away."

You pulled back and squinted one eye at him.

"We're meeting your uncle this afternoon. You think needy will scare me away now?"

Eddie ran his hand up your side and smiled. "Wayne will love you."

"You think?"

"See no reason why he wouldn't."

"You know that this here," you pointed your chin between the both of you, "is a little insane, right?"

Eddie snorted and pressed a kiss to your arm. "Uh-hn, but I can't find it in me to give a shit... S' that bad?"

"I guess then we're bad people."

He softly kissed your lips, feeling tingly and warm. “Bad people in good company.”

—

When Wayne got Eddie alone for a few minutes he asked why he had kept you a secret for so long.

"Old man, we met yesterday. Could't have brought her over earlier without us barging in here naked."

"You're shittin' me?"

"Nope," he grinned.

Wayne's mouth hung open for a moment. "Eddie, ya'll been talking like you've been married for a decade. And happily at that."

"Feels more like two."

Scratching his head, Wayne was looking for words. "That's insane, boy."

"I know," he said with that pride again. "Wait till you hear the full story... well... ahm... maybe not all of it. Shit, actually there's not much I can tell you..."

"Goin' by the looks of her neck I don't doubt it." Wayne had a sip from his mug, eyes crinkling with a smile over the rim.

"You like her?"

"Love her!" Then his features dimmed with a tinge of worry. "I’m happy for you, Eddie. Just don't get your heart broken."

—

Splitting the nights between Eddie’s and your place was another thing that didn’t need discussing. You share a place with your best friend Barb and she gave Eddie a thorough interrogation when he stayed over for the first time.

“You’re a serial killer or something?”

“Only on game nights,” he grinned.

“What are you doing?”

“Talking to you.”

Barb crossed her arms and pulled up her brows. “So you’re a funny one. Are you going to school? Are you working?”

“I’m a studio musician. Sometimes I sub for live gigs too, but that interferes too much with the time for my own band, so I really only do that occasionally when I dig the music.”

Eddie tried not to say something smart when he saw her efforts to suppress some sort of impressed surprise forming on her features.

“And you’re modelling?”

“Nah,” he laughed. “Well, that one time, yeah. Just was trying out something new. We’ll see if I’ll do that again.”

You walked back into the room, naturally drawn over to him like he was a giant magnet, instantly weaving your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Are you mean to my man, Barbara?”

Eddie shuddered and pushed a hand past the hem of your shirt; he was so hungry for your skin.

“No,” Barb huffed. “We’re just getting to know each other… aaaand—“

“And?” you said flatly.

“Come oooon,” she whined. “You can’t be mad at me that I am worried about you!”

Eddie looked up to you, leaning back a little to catch your eyes. “It’s not unreasonable.”

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“And I don’t mind,” he said. You brushed a thumb over his cheekbone and he chased it with a small kiss before smiling. “I know how to handle myself when I feel unreasonably bullied.”

“You’re so fucking cute,” you sighed and smiled down at him. Barb made a dry heaving sound.

“I am trapped in a rom-com simulation or something.” She took her mug from the table and walked out, calling from around the corner: “Try not to wake me with weird sex stuff, please?”

“She’s usually very sweet,” you told him with a frown when you were alone again. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, I mean it. It’s okay.” Eddie turned and moved you in between his spread knees, hugging your waist, smiling up at you. “Chances are high that Steve will give you a similar treatment. He’s usually very sweet too, but he’s got this whole mama bear thing going on so… sorry about that.”

—

“Dude… Dude… Edward!”

“Huh?” Eddie’s head snapped back to Steve who looked a little annoyed. “What did you just say?”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked down at his watch. “It’s kinda time for you to head towards the stage.”

“Mhh, gimme me five more minutes, I don’t want to miss her.”

Ever since Steve had heard about that mysterious new spouse not quite three days ago, he hadn’t been able to stop frowning. Eddie was a bag of feral cats on his best days but right now he was a nervous fucking mess. His eyes were glued to the glass door of the venue and he was about to chew off his bottom lip any moment.

“If she comes, she’ll easily find you. You’re hard to miss front-center stage.”

“If?” Eddie looked horrified.

“When… I mean when she comes, Jesus.”

“What if something happened?”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“Hey!” Eddie said, face hard. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry… I… you’re really intense about this man, I’m getting a little worried.”

Eddie looked back at the door and bounced on his toes. “Well, I’m really intensely in love with her so you better get used to it.”

“In love?” Steve blurted out and braced himself for another burning look but Eddie kept his face directed at the door. “Man, it’s been five days!”

“Don’t know what that has to do with anything. It’s not like I can just turn it off—“

“Eddie?” Jeff called over the noise of the opening act droning in the background. “You coming or what?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he looked away from the door at last. “On my way.”

Steve trudged down the corridor and pushed his way into the concert hall, squinting as the loud music of the opener hit his eardrums. The lights were flickering in tune with the outro of the song as he pushed his way past sweating people to the front where Jonathan and Robin should be. He needed to seriously roll his eyes at someone who wasn’t going to rip his fucking head off for finding this whole thing concerning.

The music stopped right as he put his chin on Robin’s shoulder. On stage, the frontwoman thanked the cheering crowd for a good time.

“And?” Robin asked excitedly. “She here?”

“Nah. Eddie is losing his mind.”

Jonathan joined them, looking a little red around the eyes. “I think it’s cute somehow?”

“Cute?” Steve huffed. “Don’t know about that.”

“Hey, at least wait until you have met her,” Robin rasped. She had definitely had a good time with that first band.

“Did you know he has two drawers at her place? Two. After five days!”

Jonathan shrugged. “You have to put your shit somewhere.”

Steve slapped a hand against his forehead. “Jesus… he’s going to get his heart broken!”

“You don’t know that.”

“Robin! Nothing can hold up like that over time!”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” Jonathan said.

“Yeah, if you start at unbelievable falling down to amazing is still amazing.”

“Wow, Rob,” Jonathan gasped. “That was deep.”

“Thanks, Jon.”

Steve leaned over the barrier in front of the stage and rubbed his face in disbelief. “When have you two become such firm believers in overdone romance novel tropes?”

Jonathan shrugged again. “I kinda knew I was in for Argyle after two weeks, man. And it’s been years now.”

“Yeah, alright, but you took a few months to let it grow!”

The lights dimmed down and fog started to creep over the stage floor. Whistles and shouts sounded from the crowd that was waiting for the main show to begin.

Corroded Coffin wasn’t big by business standards, but they had acquired a pretty solid fanbase by now. This was actually the biggest crowd they’d ever played on a solo gig. Gareth’s silhouette emerged from the fog, arms raised, one hand forked in a salute, the other armed with sticks. The crowd cheered, getting louder when Jeff took his place behind his mic, checking his pedals on the floor in what Steve knew to be superstition.

“It’s about to happen,” Robin said next to him, clapping her hands in excitement and right on cue, Erica stormed the stage, swinging her bass like a battle axe. Erica had replaced Grant a few years ago and was by now one of Eddie’s closest friends. Steve needed to pull her over and ask her what she had to say about the whole ordeal sometime soon.

People roared, longtime fans chanting Erica’s name and her grin shone brighter than the fucking spotlights. Last came Eddie. He marched in, radiating with the energy that hinted at the total beast he turned into on stage. Steve was glad to see that this madness didn’t dim him down. Jonathan moved his mouth but it was already hard to hear over the cheers and chants and whistles.

Eddie grabbed his mike and did his thing, luring the crowd in closer, his voice low and rumbling. He laughed diabolically, tongue sticking out as a sea of hands flew in the air and people bounced in anticipation. Erica hit the first notes, her thick heavy bass hitting Steve right in the stomach and he could see Eddie scan the first few rows with a nervous frown, pacing back and forth with squared shoulders. His hand was so firm around the neck of his guitar, Steve was worried he would snap it clean off. Robin threw Steve a glance; she saw it too. For everybody else, Eddie just looked intense, about to give them a show but his friends could see something cracking through.

He didn’t miss his cue though. He rarely ever did.

The first song rolled over them like an avalanche. Eddie and Erica were firm believers in hitting the crowd hard right away, hyping them up till their animal brains were thrumming and out for blood or whatever. It had taken Steve and Robin a while to get used to hard music, but it turned out that there was a lot of variance. The Coffins, as Steve liked to call them, had evolved immensely since their early garage days. More progressive, more melodic, a little doom here and there with clean and harsh vocals alternating during songs. Erica could come up with a blood-curdling scream you wouldn’t think possible upon laying eyes on her.

Steve was sweaty. He had heard this set a dozen times but I still loved it. It was the whole atmosphere. The second song was nearing its end, a quiet part building up into a mean breakdown and Steve received a thump to the shoulder from a tall, broad guy next to him. He looked over, fearing a mosh-pit forming around him - he would never be a fan of that, no thank you - but there just was someone trying to squeeze through to the front row. Steve hated it when the giants refused to let shorter people to the front and he patted the guy on the shoulder and gestured for him to be nice and take a step back.

‘Thank you,’ the newcomer mouthed at him and turned to the stage, eyes wide, sweat streaming from her forehead. She pressed her hands to her chest, mouth hanging open and Steve took a look at the stage, then back at her; her gaze was following Eddie around like he was a god she was here to worship.

“Oh my god!” she shouted into the small space of quiet before the breakdown hit. Steve couldn’t stop staring, this couldn’t be just any fan, right? She had slid her feet in between the bars of the metal barrier separating the crowd from the stage and pushed herself further up, face completely enraptured.

Eddie pushed over his mike stand - that happened all the time - and as the last notes faded out, he hooked one foot under it and flipped it up, catching it with his fret hand, grinning into the crowd as his little trick elicited cheers.

Steve was unsure now if it really was her. He had expected waving and shouting to make herself known but she almost looked petrified, frozen in place, unblinking.

“How are you doing?” Eddie asked and bathed in the rageing response. “Are you sweaty yet?”

Somewhere from the back, a woman shouted: I’m wet for you, Eddie!!!

“Fucking hell, careful at the back everybody, seems like we have a slipping hazard situation.” Eddie kicked at one of his effect pedals and scratched his nose with a grin as laughter and shouts weaved through the crowd. “Very flattering of you tho. Thank you.”

Steve kept glancing at the possible spouse, curious for a reaction.

He was sure he heard a chuckled “charming bastard” leave her mouth and gave Robin a nudge.

“Hey, Rob,” he said while Eddie kept talking to his crowd, “you see her? Yeah, I think she could be… you know.... the one.”

“You think?” Robin put her arm on his chest and pushed him back out of her line of sight. “Pretty.”

A fast rhythmic drum solo announced the next song, one of Steve’s favourites, and she started to move with it, arms raised into the air.

“Why do you think it’s her?” Robin shouted into his ear.

“Dunno, just… watch her watch him— Jesus...” Robin had pushed past him to change places, sending him into the chest of the guy behind him.

Things were wild. People moved with the charging beat of the drums, Erica cornering them with a slapping bass that made her fingers blur before she opened her mouth and screamed like something nightmarish, as Eddie and Jeff hit their strings like madmen.

Steve tried to let it go for a while and allowed himself to be carried away by the force of the sound. Having Robin as a shield helped too and it was three songs later when she reminded him about the matter.

“If that’s not her, I am going to shit. A. Brick.”

Steve prepared to yell a response, just as the flow on stage stumbled, deviating from the familiar sound of this song. Next came sharp reverb and Steve saw that Eddie’s mic-stand was down again. The band stopped as Eddie fumbled with his gear, the cord of the mic had looped around the stand and somehow, his ankle. He kept looking up, smiling like crazy, biting his lip, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with the back of a trembling hand and the no-longer mystery laughed, warm and adoring and totally and utterly smitten with Eddie.

“That’s her, right?” Jonathan said pressing against him and Robin to see something.

“Either that or Eddie is having a serious medical emergency right now,” Robin said.

“Not sure if both aren’t true— Jesus, Munson, just focus for a second.”

She turned, throwing a death stare at him that punched Steve right in the face. Robin and Jonathan waved at her making her frown while on stage, Erica finally had helped Eddie out of his turmoil and his amplified voice drew her attention away from them again.

Robin laughed. “Protective.”

“Sorry about that, folks.” Eddie joked. “Just had an out-of-body experience.” He pushed the mic away from his face, turned to her and mouthed a small "Hi" that was so sweet that Steve felt a little guilty.

“Let’s make sure to give one to every single one of you before you leave this place. Jeff, hit it!”

The rest of the show was a hot, blasting blur. Eddie was on fire and everything around him was catching. For all Steve knew, he had an audience of one and it almost felt surreal how an event with so many people could make him feel like he was intruding on an intimate moment between lovers.

Erica announced the last song and it left everyone breathless and exhausted. Nobody here looked more like a mess than her. It was almost obscene.

The band thanked the crowd while Jeff tormented his guitar with one last long distorted note and then people screamed their lungs out, already demanding an encore.

Eddie put down his guitar, smile wild and blazing and hopped off the stage. Everyone craned their necks as he crossed the small trench and slammed against the barrier into waiting arms. People around them lost it when Eddie took her face in his hands and slid his tongue down her throat without hesitation.

“Holy Shit!” Robin squeaked.

When Eddie finally drew away, he peppered her face with small kisses, muttering inaudible things that were only meant for her ears.

“I gotta go, I gotta go…” Eddie chanted, still coming back for another kiss again and again.

“Go!” she laughed and stopped him from keeping on by pressing her hands on his shoulders.

“One more… just one more, promise.”

“It’s never just one more, Gomez.”

Eddie nodded, turned, made two steps and then spun back around to steal one last kiss from her smiling mouth. He jogged back to the stage, pulled himself up and joined his delighted bandmates to go backstage.

“Excuse me,” Robin said, pushing the giant away like he wasn't three heads taller than her. “Coming through, thank you.”

Jonathan shrugged and followed Robin and so Steve did the same.

Robin said her name very carefully when she approached, but there was nothing hard on her face this time, Steve could only see sweet bliss in those eyes.

“I’m Robin, a friend of Eddie’s.”

“Oh!” she cheered and gave Robin a surprisingly enthusiastic hug. “Great to finally meet you.”

“I’m Jonathan, hi!”

“Ah, the genius with the black and white film. I need to talk to you sometime.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his head and blushed. “Don’t know about genius, but thank you. And sure, anytime.”

 “You’re Steve, right?”

“Uhm,” he stammered, determined to not make a bad first impression, no matter his feelings. “Yeah, that’s right. Great to meet you.”

“Seen pictures of all of you but it’s not the best lighting in here and I was a little distracted…”

“We noticed,” Jonathan chuckled. “You liked the show?”

She shook her head like someone stuck in a dream, pressed her hands to her hot face and giggled. “Sorry, I feel kinda high. You probably think we’re insane… we know…”

“No, no!” Robin stopped her. “I think it’s pretty adorable.”

“Right! Eddie is a great guy, he deserves his sickly sweet romance,” Jonathan said with a pat to her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Steve added, not all the way there yet but less worried than before. It was hard to stay so sceptical in the face of such intense affection. “He really does.”

—

Eddie downed the contents of a small water bottle while quickly marching down the corridor that led out of the backstage area. He felt some spillage dripping down his chin and to his shirt which was already plenty sweaty. Shit, he was shaking.

This must have been the longest encore he had ever played and he felt a little twinge of guilt in the back of his head to leave the band with packing up their gear but he had to get his hands on you soon or he would probably combust. He’d been worried about different possible scenarios that caused your delay and his heart had almost leapt out of his chest when he finally saw your face in the first row.

It already was like ecstasy, every time he saw you, but seeing you cheer for him, dancing and lost in his music. Shit. He hadn’t lied when he had spoken about an out-of-body-experience.

The big double door in front of him opened and in walked Steve, then Robin and then Jonathan, talking to you. You had already found his people. A weird kind of gravitation was at work here and it pulled at his bones now.

“Sweetheart,” he called out, still too fucking far away.

Your head turned and your eyes widened when you saw him; would he ever get used to that?

“Eddie,” you sighed and he knew you were just as desperate as he was. You rushed past Steve and Robin, taking up speed as he stopped and opened his arms for you.

“C’mere!” he half laughed half groaned and welcomed the slight pain when you smashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pressed his face into your hair that smelled like jasmine and sweat and you. “You’re here.”

“M’ s srry,” vibrated against his collarbone and he pulled back a little.

“What was that?”

“I’m so sorry I was so late I—“

Eddie cut you off with a kiss. He needed to taste you and you were here now so words could wait for a little longer. He felt a little tight in his pants and he held on to your face like in fear you could fucking float away. You were spoiling him, nipping at his lip, soothing the pain with a soft lick.

“Oh my fucking god, Eddie…” you whispered, forehead pressed against his and he answered with a soft moan. “I have no words right now, not sure if there are any… you… you’re… just…” You softly thumped your fists to his chest, straining to find something to say that matched your emotions.

“Just show me, hm? Show me how I make you feel?”

You nodded your head still cradled in his hands, eyes shining so bright and all for him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you kissed him again.

“You think we should leave?” Robin said approximately three galaxies away.

Eddie pulled himself off your lips with every ounce of willpower in his body. “My friends! We meet you at the bar in ten…” he looked back at you, grinning not taking his eyes off of you when he resumed speaking. “In twenty minutes.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

[avelera]

I do wonder if we get the beginning of Brief Lives in the next Sandman Netflix season, specifically with this moment:

If it's going to be played quite the same way? If they end up skipping straight from Seasons of Mist to Brief Lives (which I think is an excellent idea to be clear) it raises a few possibilities:

(cut for comic spoilers & speculation)

Personally I find this moment a bit weird in general because Dream doesn't even name the woman who supposedly just broke his heart and thus launched the action of this arc. Also the fact we later find out it's Thessaly who in the comic at least (the show can always soften the character as they have others) fucking sucks, for her to kick off Dream's sadness roadtrip of self-destruction feels like such a waste. It also feels weird to imagine babygirl Netflix Tom Sturridge Dream going for someone like Thessaly after his whole arc of trying to be a better person and learning important lessons and also just...being a much softer character who is trying to do better, going for someone like Thessaly (who doesn't even like him by her own admission) and who is also terrible feels like a tragic step backwards in his character development. Not inconceivable, just terribly tragic.

Which has me thinking that one possibility is if they go straight from Seasons of Mist to Brief Lives, this moment above could be about Nada, who does choose to pass on after he frees her, even after expressing that she still loves him. That love is just not enough for her to accept his offer to be his queen and stay (after 10k years of Hell, who can blame her?!).

Point is, this moment instead being part of the long tail of Dream's self-recrimination about Nada choosing to pass on would make a lot of sense and be a much more justifiable kick-off for Dream going on a roadtrip that's an expression of his doubts in his ability to change for the better (and therefore, must he die?). Nada's punishment is so heinous I can easily see the Sturridge Dream being conflicted about his own actions for much longer than he appears to be in the comic, leading to this moment after he set her free.

Thessaly is an immortal, so even if/when she shows up, her having an acrimonious "angry ex girlfriend" reaction to Dream need not be because she was the girlfriend who kicked off the Brief Lives arc, they could have just dated sometime in the past centuries and still have vitriol between them.

And finally, and this is just me being a shameless Dream/Hob shipper, I do kind of wonder how one even justifies Dream ending up with an immortal human like Thessaly when Hob is right there.

Look, in the comic, Hob barely seems to remember Dream exists when he's not there, so there's no feeling of "Why doesn't Dream hook up with Hob instead??" when you first learn about Thessaly. But in the show, you've got the 1789 tension, the missed meeting, the devotion of the New Inn. Dream going for another, shitty immortal brunet when Hob is right there feels a bit like a slap in the face in that context.

And let me be clear, it's not because I'm being shipper garbage that thinks Neil can, should, or would alter the story to appease Dreamling shippers or that Dream dating Thessaly in the show as he does canonically in the comic would be an intentional slap in the face to Dreamling shippers! It is beyond wishful thinking to imagine we'd get more than what the comic offers which is a few beautifully rendered, sentimental moments between them for us to build our fanon ship off of. It's not Neil's responsibility to make it canon so don't be fucking weird about it.

It's more that the show is so queer. The comic is queer too but the show absolutely focuses and centers the narrative on predominantly queer couples and people, more than straight ones. They also softened for example the Corinthian and confirmed he's gay and has some non-destructive relationships with men, he's not just a murderer of gay men. So the narrative is even more queer than the comic.

In the 80s/90s when Sandman came out, the idea of Dream as the lead protagonist being canonically queer I think would have been pretty unlikely. He's very, very het in the comics, with the closest we get to a whisper of him not being strictly het being a mention of Lucifer once being beautiful and some speculation they might have had a relationship.

But the show is so very queer and the energy so charged between Dream and Hob (and the writers acknowledged and encouraged it!) that there is no, in my opinion, natural conclusion that, "Sure, almost everyone else is queer in this, but not Dream, obviously." If anything, it would be jarring to have so many queer characters only to slam the door shut on the possibility that Dream might also be queer.

Which is my roundabout way of saying: I wonder how Thessaly will fit into this at all. I speculate she might be removed entirely from this beat of Brief Lives, in favor of making Dream more remorseful about Nada in a sympathetic way. Furthermore, introducing Thessaly when Hob, another immortal who actually likes Dream is right there the idea that he opts for Thessaly (a woman who doesn't even like him to the point where she plays an active part later in his death) instead after being tortured for 106 years is actually painfully heartbreaking.

So in conclusion: eh? Who knows!

But also: DREAM, Hob is RIGHT THERE! Date HIM, not fucking THESSALY?!

#the sandman #dreamling #thessaly #nada #brief lives #sandman netflix speculation #sandman meta

[elvisabutler]

she's there watching for me

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2593 warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). insecurity regarding weight. the word fat being used in the narrative. implied breastfeeding kink. light sub elvis. mommy kink. light dom reader. implication that elvis is girthier than normal when he hasn't had release in a while. brief mention of pills/detoxing. elvis is a selkie. bit of fingering. use of the words mama and baby boy. a hefty chunk of belly worship. author’s note: welcome to day 3 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, mommy kink with selkie elvis presley x reader. so for context i feel like i need to make it clear, so the original selkie au i wrote was set pretty much in a timeframe of about 1971 to 1973. basically allowed y'all to read it and decide which age you wanted elvis at. i erred more toward '73 in my mind mostly because that was pretty close to 40 and i had made the comment in the fic about him being surprised he got that close to forty. that being said, this means the more time that passed in the universe the closer i was getting to 1977. i— have never intended this to have a sad ending. honestly if y'all must know out of all the series i've inadvertently written, this has the most gentle ending other than spark for elvis as far as when he eventually dies. so this takes place in an alternate 1978 where elvis is still alive and is about big daddy build. there is also a hint to the future breastfeeding kink fill and a little surprise in here. know that— the fact that a certain name does not have the middle name attached to it is important. also if you have no idea what this series/verse is, the masterlist is right here. beyond that long winded author's note, special thanks to @stylespresleyhearted and @eliseinmemphis for being my feral little gremlins. to @prompted-wordsmith for being seal!!! always and to my discord wives, birdy, christi and marina, y'all know i love you till the end of time. also once again, i really do love how y'all liked this and received it and live to see your thoughts on my writing.

"Mama." A sleepy murmur leaves Elvis's lips, a pout firmly planted on them as he feels your side of the bed. It's empty and starting to chill, a common occurrence when you're not occupying it. You always forget that he's a bit of a light sleeper until a certain hour of the night when you think his brain and body finally shut off. That hour of the night was at least two hours away but you were for once experiencing your own sleeping issues caused by one Lisa Marie, one John Baron and one little Jesse. A bit of a bug had found itself circulating around the younger three in the house and you found yourself taking care of your little seal pups. After all you were if nothing else, a good seal wife. A good seal wife who happens to be sneaking into your own bedroom like a guilty woman.

"You should have already been sleeping. Didn't you keep telling me how exhausted you were?" You ask, sliding into bed next to Elvis, your hand cupping his face. "I think you dozed off on the way home from the concert."

Elvis can't help but flush a bit in embarrassment as he looks at you, trying to come up with some excuse. "Can't— Feel all keyed up...ya know how I get 'fter a show. Can't go swimmin' to burn it off." He licks his lips, watching the way your chest moves up and down in your nightgown, "jus' worried 'bout how the paper's gonna talk 'bout me."

"It's Memphis, Elvis. They're not going to talk about you like everyone else, you're their son. Honorary King of the city," your hands move to his front, brushing against his stomach, marveling at the feel of the silk of his pajama top and how it reminds you of his skin. "That why you're wearing a shirt to bed? Hiding it away from me?"

It meaning his stomach. Elvis looks away and shrugs. "Mama— don't. I know 'm still packin' on some weight." He had thought when he met you it was just his body betraying him, trying to blubber up like a true seal and it had fluctuated enough as you helped him sweat out his uppers and his downers and everything that wasn't strictly required. He thought maybe you'd get something resembling the man you met all those years ago.

But you always take such good care of him and he should have realized that when you made sure he was well fed with his pups that his own body— his genetics would rear their head and he'd stay a stocky and fat sort of man no matter what exercise he did. Damn human body seems to think he needs blubber as much as he does as as a seal.

"And? Are we not married? Did I agree to love you no matter what?" Even as you try and answer a little flippantly your eyes dart across his face and his body looking for a tell-tale sign that you pushed too hard with that retort but only see a shrug. "I know my pussy doesn't have your tongue, so Elvis— you want to answer?"

"Yes, Mama," he whispers, shifting in the bed a little at the way your tone shifts from purely loving to one that's just commanding enough that he has to focus on breathing and willing his cock to stay down. You're both exhausted but damn if lil Elvis isn't wanting to bury himself so tight in your snatch that he has no choice but to sleep afterward.

At the word Mama you feel your toes curl just a little bit at how it sounds leaving his lips. It's not the first time he's ever called you Mama, after all, you are the step mother to his daughter and the mother to his sons. There's something in his tone though, something that has your body strumming with what you've affectionately dubbed your seal wife sense that tells you something is off. This is different. "You don't have to call me Mama when we're not talking about the pups, Elvis."

Elvis's tongue darts out to lick at his lips as one of your breasts finally makes an escape from the top of your nightgown. You hear the sharp inhale of his breath before without warning his face burrows into your chest frowning at how they don't feel full of milk and pulling you close as his arms wrap around you. "Ain't callin' ya it 'cause of the pups, Mama."

A shiver passes through you at his hot breath against your chilled chest. He's not just calling you Mama because of the pups. You're— you take care of him as well as anyone would take care of a baby boy, don't you? You make sure his meds are taken, make sure no one takes advantage of him when he doesn't want to bother with particulars. You make sure everything is in tip top shape with him and everyone around you. You're his Mama too, aren't you?

Your words come out a unintentionally a little shaky, your nerves starting to get the best of you before you finally ask a simple question. "Do you want Mama to take care of you? Show you how much she loves you?"

Elvis very rarely sounds like a seal when he's in his human form. He very rarely can make the specific vocalizations he needs to in order to achieve it but sometimes even with his body in his human form, he can manage it. You swear you see a flash of his skin, almost as if he wants to shift before you hear the whimper and whine against your skin in between kisses to your chest. "Please."

Denying Elvis isn't something you're good at since you came back together and especially since you've been married. He is the love of your life, the seal to your seal wife but you need to have the control today, he needs to cede over his control to you for you to take care of him. It's with that knowledge in hand that you push him away from your chest even as you hear a growl and a whine fall from his lips. Your hands push on his chest, forcing him to lay down even as one hand moves to unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest hair to you first and then exposing his stomach— that filled out out swell that tell the story of how you're taking care of him and damn anyone who'd say anything different about it even if you know sometimes his body acts up and makes things twist and turn and hurt him. Your hands run through his chest hair as you move to kiss his lips and down his neck to his chest where you nip at both his nipples earning two short barks of surprise. When you reach his stomach you feel him shift more, his hips bucking just a little as if to distract you and get you to move down to his aching cock that you haven't even touched but is pressing against the bottom of his stomach. Precum starts to smear against the underside of his stomach and he needs you do something to it.

"Did Mama say you could move, baby boy?" You coo as you rub his stomach, hands forcing the silk of the shirt completely away and exposing his bare torso to you. "Let Mama show you how much she loves this. How she has to stop herself from grinding her beaver on it. You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby? Want Mama to come on this big stomach of yours? Have the hair on it all shiny from my come?"

As you talk you feel yourself growing more and more aroused, your underwear quickly becoming drenched despite him not even touching you. You can't help but grind a little against him, leaving a little wet spot where your nightgown and underwear block your body from his. A whimper that almost sounds like an angry growl leaves his mouth as he tries to keep himself from moving. His hands itch to grab your hips, to tear your panties off in a fit of animalistic fervor and bunch up your nightgown so he can sink his cock between your folds and feel just how drenched for him you are. What he does do is move to take off his pants only to have your hand grab at his wrist. "Patience."

"Ya teasin', Mama," he grunts out a warning, trying to act as if he's not cededing all control to you. You aren't focusing where he needs you to and that just won't do. "Gonna come in my pants if ya don't do somethin'. Wanna feel that tight—"

His words are cut off when you use the grip you have on his wrist to bring his hand to between your legs, his fingers easily gliding into your glistening cunt. The only thing that leaves his mouth is a groan of pleasure, his head falling back as he allows himself to play with your clit. You don't stop him.

"So needy, my baby boy." You tease as you maneuver to take off his pants, pulling them down just enough that you can hear the smear of his cock against his stomach. Hear how he's leaking so much already that you won't really even have to prep yourself. You had originally planned to suck at it, to put it in your mouth until it managed to stand at attention but that isn't needed tonight, is it? No, he's ready and aching and throbbing in your hand as you grip it. Your other hand moves to lift up his stomach just enough to fully expose his cock as you slide the foreskin down to reveal it in all its glory. You can't help but lick your lips and clench around Elvis's fingers.

"Christ, Mama." He curses as his cock twitches, begging to be buried inside of you. He pulls out his fingers and moves them to his mouth, watching you with hooded eyes and labored breaths as he sucks on them, tongue taking in every last bit of your juices. His fingers leave his mouth with a pop. "Taste so fuckin' sweet. Please help me out."

"Don't I always?" The words slip from your lips with a smile as Elvis's eyes look up at you through his eyelashes and he gives you the same answering smile. You take a moment to pull yourself on top of him and situate yourself before you sinking down ever so slowly. Your breathing sync up, becoming shorter as you get more and more of his cock inside you. This isn't the first time you've had sex, far from it but it's the first time Elvis has truly given you this much control over what's happening between you. A whisper of his name escapes your lips as you move down to kiss him softly at first before worrying his bottom lip between your teeth. It reminds you of your first kiss with him and from how he shakes underneath you— you think he remembers too. "Baby boy, you're— you feel bigger than normal. You've been needing Mama that bad all night? Got it all pent up inside you?"

He nods, not trusting how his voice is going to sound. Figuring it'd take on a high pitched quality it hasn't had since he was first starting out or even from before then. You might be his Mama and he's your boy that you take care of so well but— he can't let ya hear him like that. Almost as if you sense he's holding back, one of your hands moves to cup his face, brushing your fingers against his sideburns until you reach his hair. You yank just a little at some of the strands and force him to look at you. "Don't— don't hold back for mama. Let it all out, baby boy. It isn't healthy to hold back. Let me hear you while I help lil Elvis feel better."

It's then that the floodgates open, a string of curses and growls and every noise in between leaves Elvis's mouth as you bounce in his lap, clenching your cunt every so often in between bounces. Elvis's own hips can't be contained as he thrusts up against you, earning more than a few shouts from you as you feel him deeper than he ever has been. You know from how keyed up both of you are that neither of you is going to last long, but you don't want Elvis to come before you. No, you want to come on his cock, drenching it with your release before you feel his warm release coating your insides.

"Mama— gonna come. Gotta— gonna burst. Fuckin' beaver so goddamn tight and ya tits just bouncin' like that all empty, can't even suck 'em." His words are practically gibberish but you can't help but huff out a laugh even as you grab his chin and force him to look at you, his pupils blown, lips shiny with spit and forehead with a sheen of sweat.

"Not till Mama says. Be a gentleman. Be a good boy for Mama," you practically croon at him even as your voice lilts up just a little. "Mama wants to come on your cock. Can you help Mama do that?"

"Yeah, Mama, I—Wanna help ya. Do so goddamn much for me, let me—" His words get eaten up by your lips on his and the moan you let out against them when his hand moves past his belly and your own to play with your clit, the calluses on them adding just enough friction that you don't even have time to warn Elvis before your orgasm comes, your pussy squeezing his cock tighter than it ever has as your release covers his fingers and his cock. You haven't felt the warmth of his come yet, though, and you know he's being good. Being the best boy he could be for the best mama he thinks you are. You struggle to catch your breath but manage to say one word.

"Please."

Somehow he knows what you mean by the word. Somehow he knows it's you giving him permission to finally come and release every bit of tension and insecurity that's kept him up tonight. He comes with a roar— or maybe it's a bark, but all you know is that it sounds so animalistic that it had to have done something good. It had to have achieved something for him just from how you see his head flop back against the pillow as you watch his chest and belly rise and fall with deep breaths.

After what feels like a lifetime you manage to get up and use the bathroom, grabbing a warm washcloth on your way out to try and clean up the mess between you two. Elvis practically looks like he's passed out as you clean up his cock, marveling at how it twitches just a little in your grasp— almost as if to say it wants another round. When you finally slide under the covers, you feel Elvis shift beside you and pull you closer to him, to where your head is over his chest. You can hear the steady but still quick beats of his heart.

"Thank you, Mama."

That whispered bit of thanks puts a small smile on your face. "Any time for my baby boy."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7 @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @elirobin, @goldieharry. wanna be added to the taglist? go here and follow the directions. if i tagged you in this and you didn't want to be, give me a heads up/clarify what you really really don't wanna be tagged for. also if the tags messed up i'm sorry i hate tumblr sometimes because of it.

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfiction #austin butler elvis #austin butler elvis presley #austin elvis #austin elvis x reader #austin butler elvis x reader #ally writes #ally's wet hot smut summer #selkie!elvis

[nativehueofresolution]

thinking about connor and shiv as the two kids 'out' of the company (or at least as out as they can be when their finances are tied up in it and the family is the brand), because they both came to it in different ways and have such different attitudes to it?

connor says in 3x05 he was always steered away from entering the company, and i think that's probably true but the context for him is quite different. from what we can piece together of the timeline, waystay was not quite a media empire during his childhood, and logan hadn't yet become obsessed with his legacy (it's kendall, after all, not connor, who is named after logan - which i take to mean he probably was not thinking about having a capital-h Heir yet). by the time that changed, connor's mother was likely already institutionalized and connor was old enough logan may have already decided he didn't have an aptitude for business (alan ruck has suggested in interviews connor probably flunked out of multiple schools). so it was better to start over, and connor had to watch kendall replace him as the eldest son and be groomed for the role instead. but it wasn't pre-ordained from his birth. it was a gradual fall in status until he'd accepted his place as the "first pancake" and was content to stay out of the bloodbaths and settle for scraps of attention to avoid being pushed out even further.

meanwhile, by the time shiv was born, logan already had an heir and a spare, and girls didn't count anyways. she always knew she wasn't going to get the keys to the kingdom no matter how good she was. so she builds her life in the opposite direction, tries to act like she's out because of defiance, because she's a black sheep who doesn't agree with waystar's conservatism. staying out on principle gives herself some agency, rather than waiting in the wings for an offer that will never come.

in one of the early s1 scripts, there's a line where connor tells shiv 'i've always said you and i are the only sane ones'. and it's a joke (the punchline is connor says this while wandering around on a horse lol), but i also wonder if maybe connor did feel a certain kinship with shiv - the ones too smart to get involved in the family mess, who could tell logan would never give them his approval - and if he was sad to see her throw her entire political career away at the first hint logan would give her the keys, when he thought they both had accepted their lot and were doing their own things.

on the other hand, i think shiv would maybe have been a little bit afraid of being a connor by staying out. of being reduced to an irrelevant joke, and that's why she can't fully keep her nose out of waystar business and likes the idea of having tom to puppet master in waystar, all while she is so determined to be a winner in the political arena. she's not out to be a professional rich person and follow daddy's orders, she's out because she has better things to do and maybe she has a guy keeping an eye on things but that's just being responsible.

#shiv roy #connor roy #succession #kaitlin speaks

[pinkrelish]

I know many people though the romantic relationship aspect in FOI was unnecessary, and whilst I partially agree with that, I also kinda liked it because it was some of the only time in the book we got to see Eddie happy.

As you said this actually a pretty sad book and Eddie spends most if his time in it anxious or angry, so seeing any happy moments weaved in there made me happy too.

so, i'm gonna use this as a jumping point to talk about my take on the paige plot line. this is just my interpretation, and if you read the book differently, then that's your take. our views are shaped by our individual life experiences, and those factors influence the lens which we digest media in the context that it is given. if you don't agree, then that's your experience.

that is to say—

i felt bad for paige for most of it. eddie kinda sucks lol.

i hesitate to even call it romance because that has a certain connotation, and as someone who almost exclusively reads and writes romance, very little about their relationship comes across as romantic to me.

to build context, at the beginning of the book schneiderhan makes a nod* at a popular fanfic trope: girls using eddie because they want to know what it's like to 'get with the freak'. he says he doesn't mind this because "he's not looking to be anyone's boyfriend anyway," and this self-reflection rung true to me.

eddie's initial attraction to paige stems from 1) her being pretty, 2) she treats him like a person and not a "munson," and importantly, 3) she could get him infront of an important record producer.

in his monologues where he's visualizing his future and what he's looking forward to: being a rock hero, hellfire, getting money from his dad's scheme, california... he never names her. in fact, there's several opportunities for him to think about her, but he doesn't. she's a vehicle for two of those dreams, yet he forgets her. i'm a big romantic softy, so there were two times in particular it felt deliberate he didn't mention her when he thought about what he was excited for in the future, and it kind of stung ngl. he describes how happiness washes over him from the way she looks at him, and when they're together (in a sexual context) he remarks in his head about how he wants it to last forever, but it's like once she's off the page, she's gone.

at one point he runs inner commentary about how he never saw a future for himself where he'd do the whole meeting-someone's-parents thing, so he defaults to what he sees in romance movies. he opens the van door for paige and helps her inside. he gets flowers and expensive chocolates for her mom when he's invited over for dinner. but he rarely like... talks to paige about anything that's not related to the record deal, or what she's doing in town lmao. we as an audience barely learn anything about her. and maybe that's because it's the plot line in the book the least, or because the book itself is short, but *shrug*.

they clearly both like each other, that much is clear. he gets nervous around her, it's sweet. but it was equally clear from my interpretation that she likes him more than he likes her, and while they're both using each other (him for the record deal, her to move up in her industry's hierarchy by proving to her boss that she can provide him with a rockstar in the making), their relationship is very shallow and just sex, especially on his part. "not looking to be anybody's boyfriend."

i don't know if all that sums into it being unnecessary because i personally appreciate and pour over any context we're given in how he would treat potential romantic partners, but it did make me feel bad for paige since by the final reveal at the end of the book, it comes across like she invested more into the "relationship" than he did, and his last interaction with her probably felt extra shitty, even if both of them hesitated referring to each other as anything more than a friend or future roommate.

if anyone's not reading the book because they don't want to read about eddie falling in love with another girl, don't worry, it's not that deep for either of them lmao.

/* i don't know if the nod is intentional, but i've also used popular fandom tropes ("reader comes to eddie wanting weed, but is out of money and pays for it with sex") in my own work and thought it was a neat inclusion.

#flight of icarus #flight of icarus spoilers #eddie munson

[turrondeluxe]

I love the concept canceled movie of Mikey becoming a foot solider it kind of makes me wonder how they would have went about setting Mikey up to be a foot solider though I know the context was that he felt unloved but like becoming a foot solider because of that is a really big thing because he's putting himself in the enemy position of his family not only that but he's apart of a league that's owned by Shredders Daughter Karai like that movie better better have heartfelt moments if were to be made than again I can see where they were going with this with how they sat up Leo in the first movie he doesn't return Mikey's hug but he does hug Donnie Raph also doesn't bother notifying Mikey that Leo's back which is really subtle building on Mikey's future feelings because they maybe small they still set up that nagging part that could be pushed and developed.

i will always mourn the fact that we never had this movie actually, because it would have shown a facet of mikey never seen before where he willingly ditches his family to join their lifelong enemy. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO INTERESTING.

Also specifically because while i can see the family slowly driving mikey away from them, there's one specific brother who would truly be completely destroyed by that: Donnie

in the movie donnie and mikey are literally inseparable, they are never not one moment away from each other, be it in a literal sense and in the non literal sense (they were always in a call with each other even when mikey was was out of the lair). So it kinda makes me wonder how they also would have had dug deeper the fact that mikey somehow felt like he lost donnie's support in the sequel? the one brother that refused to leave him?? I feel like it would have hurt a Lot.

Also taking into account that is mikey the one we are talking about, he loves his family and his family is the most important thing (this is a fact about all the brothers tbh but . ITS MIKEY...)

it would also have been really angsty because in the prequel comic we see that donnie manages to make an active tracker of sorts that doesn't need any other extra devices to track it's target, and i feel they would have incorporated that fixed tracker in the movie somehow. Maybe when he tracks for mikey after being too worried about him and finding out hes in foot clan area or smt and the family getting ambushed and demutated when trying to "save" him and oh how mikey would blame himself for it all...

another interesting story asset lost ....

Though i feel like the part of mikey joining the foot in 2007 is truly not so far fetched. In the movie karai is actually honorable and the foot clan, in this iteration at least, truly feels like the most trustworthy. Karai and her ninjas (because she is their leader here) actually helped the brothers and fought alongside them, so mikey was probably lured by this sense of trust theyve built up in their last encounter and would continue to feel safe with them until he realizes they were using him. Which, again, would have been very interesting to see.

The fact that we never got this mikey centric movie will always be a sad loss because of how mikey was actually going to prove himself by saving his family all by himself

it hurt my heart we never got it

#ALL OF THE MISSED OPPORTUNITIES MAN.......... #BEING A MIKEY ENJOYER IS SUCH A SAD LIFE HONESTLY. WE ALWAYS GO TROUGH THIS STUFF #ask #tmnt 2007

[wraithblogging]

I don't think I'll ever be over how much they sidelined Alina in her own show. Like, I get it. The Crows, especially Kaz/Kanej, are more marketable and clickable for Netflix. And looking at the fandom, most people seem to like the choice of giving the Crows way more screen time and relevance.

However, I find it disrespectful as hell. Especially because they advertised season two as exploring Alina's Shu heritage, which they then cut out in favour of adding more of Kaz' backstory.

Given what we know from people who watched the early screening of the season, that exploration of Alina's Shu roots was probably racist as hell. But that doesn't change the fact that they advertised it and completely cut it out, instead of, you know, making an effort (like making it not racist in the first place...).

I'm just so angry at how season two frames Kaz' revenge on Pekka as more meaningful and important than Alina's effort to destroy the fold and unite a country. Like, sorry, but given the stakes, I couldn't care less about some teenage boy who wants to get back at a guy who duped him and his brother. Meanwhile, there's a girl with sun powers who fights a virtually immortal extremist and teams up with the privateer Prince in order to unite a fucking country and destroy a symbol of division. How is that not the focus of the show?!

At points, I forgot Alina and Co were even in that show because the emphasis was so heavily laid on the Crows. And it makes me so sad how often I see posts like "skipping over all the TGT scenes so I get back to the Crows". Like, obviously, no shaming, you do you. It's just sad how often I've seen people say that now. And that is not against the fans, but against the showrunners, cause they could have set the emphasis differently. But again, the Crows are more marketable.

So now we're gonna get a Six of Crows Spin-Off at some point probably and they can finally just ignore Alina altogether, like they always wanted. I just wonder why they didn't make a Six of Crows show to begin with instead of starting with the original trilogy. At least then, they could have also done the Crows justice instead of craming important scenes into it with too little building and context.

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #alina starkov #alina starkova #six of crows #shadow and bone s2 #wraithblogging

[cdmodule]

In defense of Clock TPOT (and why he’s not ooc)

I’ve seen a lot of people insist that Clock’s character “got ruined” since TPOT but to me, the way he acts perfectly lines up with traits of his character seen since his introduction. Let me explain. (For future context, this was written right after TPOT 3)

Clock’s always been kind of… aggravating. • One of the earliest cases being how quick he is to condemn Liy, Icy, Teardrop and Bracelety and switch up on them, as early as BFB 1. You could look at the whole scene really, but mainly...

Already in his first introduction he’s butting his head into conflict and goes by whatever seems right to him (rather than for example, finding a middle ground or being otherwise helpful). Also going from arguing with Liy to forming a truce with her after. I’ll get back to these later.

• On another point, In BFB 2 and a few times in BFB30-TPOT we see more of Clock carelessly talking to hosts and demanding answers. While he’s not unique to this, It adds a lot of boldness to his character. (Using just transcripts here to save space)

• Looking back at BFB 10 Clock is the first one to not only ask for characters being recovered but also informs Four on who’s eliminated.

To him, enforcing rules is important even If his fellow contestants are mad at him for it. Remember how I said he sticks his head into situations and does what he thinks is right? • Now… we're at the part where Clock disappears for almost the rest of BFB, until coming back in BFB 15.

Not particularly sad, however frustrated at his team and doesn’t wanna hear it and leaves. He’s still hurt, which I feel like a lot of people forget when bringing up his change in TPOT. • Besides being forgotten by his whole team, throughout BFB Clock doesn’t exactly have friends to begin with. Think of another BFB character, and It’s likely they’ll at least have/had one other person. Clock is just kind of there.

Despite that, he’s VERY helpful for his team, often using his powerful clock-hands to win challenges, which is very important to him. The one time he made his team lose in BFB 6 he quickly gets embarrassed and defends himself. Speaking of defending himself….

BFB 1 - BFB 6 - TPOT 3 (Last one doesn't have CC) It seems to be his default answer to confrontation. And It’s a shock to him every single time. Which shows that Clock doesn’t do this maliciously, but rather that it comes from a lack of understanding social situations. He’s restricted to his own ideas of what’s right or wrong (shown by. playing by his own rules, doing what he wants & sticking his head into situations he isn’t part of) and on top of that has difficulty reading others, being surprised by negative reactions because of it. Basically he lacks social skills. Of course that isn’t a free card to act unpleasant around others, but It’s a skill you gotta work on nonetheless. Clock has rarely shown interest in building friendships, like him hesitating to join a truce with Liy. The only time he’s been curious was in joining Loser’s or Winner’s team.

With this in mind, It starts to make more sense why Clock is pushy and doesn’t get boundaries in TPOT. It’s nothing new! Just more blatant. (And also he wasn’t even around for a third of BFB) • His personality has been and is still developing in TPOT. The aforementioned traits have been pushed since he’s around Winner, adding a bit of obsessiveness too. But consider a few things: 1. His team forgot about him and he got frustrated and left. A change to his character after that wouldn’t be surprising 2. He never made friends and now actually found someone he’s interested in, even if that interest is One Sided (and honestly? It checks out w/ his lack of proper relationships) 3. Sometimes… people just act differently around other people. I mean he is a huge fan after all, See Point 2 again 4. We are in the middle of an “arc” and we don’t know how It’s gonna end yet And about that character development… • Something I noticed is that Clock never came off Genuinely sad and regretful (maybe in BFB 6 depending how you see his reaction to losing) until being rejected by Winner and not even getting to defend himself. This time he REALLY noticed he messed up.

I assume this will be a turning point in how Clock acts and will try to be a bit more self aware of how he acts around others. That’s for future TPOT episodes though! But all in all, I think Clock becoming devoted to Winner to the point where It seems parasocial to some (though I’d argue that “parasocial” isn’t the right way to describe this, but that’s a different convo) is par for the course, considering his boldness and lack of social skills and relationships in BFB.  Thank you for reading <3

#character analysis #clock tpot #clock bfb #tpot #mucho texto but like Im sorry i genuinely love his character so much #so its odd for me to see people act the way they do #but ya know

[acatnamedloki]

Why Mycroft Canner is crying (and is the most sopping wet cat character of all time)

In the book 'The Will to Battle' Mycroft spends half the book crying so in order to recover from my insane Book Hangover I decided to write a list of all the reasons Mycroft is crying in this book (some of them are even valid!!)

If you haven't read Ada Palmer's 'Terra Ignotia' series, this list contains extremely out of context and vague spoilers and not a lot of plot information so give it a read and see if he's a character you'll like (and then read the series and go insane with me)

Chapter 2

Someone said they trust him

He's not exactly crying but he is sitting on a bench, hugging his knees and trying to ignore his hallucinations while people are debating the future of the human race (pure wet cat behaviour)

Chapter 3

He saw the Mediterranean sea

Now he's in Crete and the sea smells salty

He was told he couldn't join a meeting (to be fair, he just did a bunch of traveling to get to the meeting)

Chapter 7

He saw a pretty boy

Recovers for a bit, has a whole ass conversation then starts crying again for the same reason (also because the pretty boy is looking all sad and vulnerable)

Someone was kind to the pretty boy (he at least tried to weep silently here)

He found out someone cares about him enough to try and track him (OK but this bit is crazy because Mycroft was just beat up, is bleeding, kidnapped, has a collar of knives around his throat, tied up, electrocuted, pushed to the ground and having a heart attack. He is totally fine with this. But then starts sobbing out of GRATITUDE because he found out someone kinda sorta cares about him!!!!?)

Ok NOW he's finally crying because he's scared (he described it as "strange" that he was crying and "tinged my eyes with salt". Good job Mycroft! Way to under-react to the situation)

Chapter 8 (still kidnapped and just been double-stabbed)

Someone threatened to kill a 17 year old boy who Mycroft believes is god

Someone asked where Bridger was (ok this bit is actually sad I started crying too)

Someone tried to start WWIII and Mycroft had a mini freak out

He saw an old building covered in graffiti

He got told off because he didn't try to kill his kidnappers (Mycroft actually tried to protect??? the original kidnappers - this is kind of a nesting doll kidnapping situation)

Chapter 11

A really old document got stolen

Caesar (his sort of president/sort of master) is wearing a new suit (its noted that he is sobbing for like 3 pages here)

Chapter 12

Pride, relief and grief (an odd mix but ok)

Chapter 13

He was hallucinating and (understandably) freaked out. Then started crying when someone asked if he was ok.

Chapter 14

Theres like a super intense argument happening between Caesar and god

Caesar put a really harsh punishment on some people who deserved it and Mycroft had a full on existential crisis because he believes he deserved it too (like he passed out and started sobbing because he deserves worse? than being a slave?)

Chapter 19

The scary space people decided to join a war (not crying because a giant lion is sitting on him, happy because at least its muting his sobs)

Chapter 21

He saw some fireworks

#ada palmer #too like the lightning #Will to battle #Mycroft Canner #sopping wet cat behaviour #terra ignota

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Very short and sweet Serennedy Analysis of the Seperate Ways DLC

Obvious spoilers disclaimer but also this is NOT supposed to be a diss at any ships whatsoever!!!!!!!! I love them all!!!!!!! My current hyperfixation is just on Serennedy and I see a lot of potential for it in the DLC!!!!!!!

• Ok first and most obvious. Right at the beginning, the part everyone was screaming about in the trailer, is that Luis’ first thought is to tell Ada that there is One More Thing (tm) he has to do, and that’s to help Leon, and Ada’s IMMEDIATE reaction is to be like “….ok.” I have a feeling in this context that she KNOWS how much Leon means to Luis. She KNOWS that he’s HIS priority, and that’s why she lets him go

• Again more obvious scene, but when Luis sees that the room containing the medicine intended for Leon is on fire he RUNS THROUGH A BURNING FRICKEN BUILDING TO GO RETRIEVE IT. His immediate thought (in my mind at least) is that he doesn’t wanna see Leon die in the same was his Grandfather did metaphorically. He couldn’t save his Grandfather because he was powerless, and now he’s powerless to save the medicine that would save Leon’s life. Hell, he even says “it’s all gone!! That was my last chance to set things right!!!” When Ada questions him on why this was so important to him. It’s because he cares deeply about Leon and wants to set things right. God. I love him SO much.

• Also I’ve mentioned this before, but Luis seems a LOT more relaxed/ jokey with Ada, and if you ask me, I think that’s a sure fire sign that Leon’s been putting on an act to impress Leon. He wants Leon to think he’s cool and self assured so that he’ll like him more, and in a similar vein with Ada, he dies before Leon can see that REAL side of him. JUST when Luis opens up about Umbrella, he’s stabbed in the back. It’s so sad. Sobbing,, crying,,,,

• HOOOOOOO BOY THAT SCENE WHERE HE SAVES ADA???????? I LOVE that we see his hesitancy to run because he can’t decide wether it’s worth running off to Leon or helping Ada whose in more urgent danger and he chooses Ada because he’s a GOOD PERSON WHO CARES ABT HER,,,, BUT THEN WHEN ADA SAYS “go. Besides, you have a promise to keep” SHE K N O W S HE NEEDS TO GET BACK TO LEON. SHE KNOWS HOW MUCH HE CARES ABT HIM RUARGH. AND THAT FACE?????? OH MY GOD????????

• Holy shit his death scene…………. When he’s on the phone with Ada and he goes “oh, and take care of Leon for me will you?” HIS FIRST THOUGHT IS ALWAYS LEON. AND THEN HES LIKE “gotta go, Leon needs my help” AND HE CALLS OUT FOR HIM?????? AND YOU CAN HEAR HIM DYING ITS SO AHSNWHENEJE

• And then ofc we see the death scene from a distance where Leon rushes to his side and holds his hand, and I feel like that only solidifies their affection for one another to me. As my beloved mutual said, ‘Luis got to spend the rest of his life with Leon but Leon never got to spend the rest of his life with Luis’ I can’t. Brb I’m gonna go cry after writing this all.

#ericswriting #luis sera #luis serra #serennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #ada wong

[sumaneun-stars]

okay based on my last request here I'm just going to say something that's been in my head since I discovered enhypen

this is literally my comfort scenario

I always end up thinking about a very cold winter day, but what makes it all the more vivid (in my opinion) is the scenery in the room

for example the description of the temperature, the duvets, the lighting (I have a weakness for warm lights), the television on in the background but the main thing... the person with Jay, like declarations of love, a simple deep conversation... I DON'T KNOW, just his presence in itself would be perfect

I don't know if that made sense in any way, it's still something deep that I can't explain

If you want to create something with this (which in this case is very cliché but I like it 😭😭😭) feel free, I just think there should be a context (which I never stopped to think about)

Anyway, Ily 💖💖💖

Winter hangs in there — pjs.

It wasn't surprising. Another failed attempt at socialising, and another comment on your insecurities which they meant as a joke. ‘Haha, it was so funny I could cry’ you wanted to snap back, but chose the better of it. Rage turned into another cup of grief in the ocean of sadness in your head.

But no matter how much you wanted to cry and let your misery turn into salty droplets, it just never happened. With no one but yourself, you just swallowed it in and moved on. False. They gradually got collected for months and months and formed that depressing sea.

As you stepped outside, a cold wind bit at your cheeks. The air was freezing, and each breath created a mist in front of you. Wrapped up in a single jacket, you walked ahead, feeling the chill seeping through your clothes. At least the cold always hung in there with you. Also him. Maybe. So far.

You entered the building, and impatient as you were, you took the stairs. Standing in front of his door, you took your phone out to text him.

Y/n: “Password?”

Jay: “Gunter's birthday”

The warmth of Jay's home embraced you like a blanket as you walked in. You entered his room with a knock, and found him on the corner of his bed, glasses on as he typed rapidly on his laptop.

“Jay!” You whined. Despite how upset you were, you always felt playful with him. You took off your jacket as you dropped yourself on his bed.

“Back from school?” 

“Mhm”

He chuckled.

“Just imagine actually going to school”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“You're lucky”

“Why?”

“I'd rather constantly be working and having body aches like a middle aged uncle than go to that prison of a school” you said in pout.

“Aw, there there” he caressed your hair. He noticed your silence as you stared blankly into nothing. Minutes passed by, until your state was too concerning for him. “Something wrong?” 

You didn't know just two words could form tears in your eyes. You realised it wasn't your inability to cry, but the fact that no one cared to ask. No one wanted to listen to your cries. You sniffled, and he immediately understood, keeping his laptop aside as he sat you up.

“Hey hey, what happened?” The warmth of his hands met your cold skin as goosebumps rose around your entire body. You forgot about earlier in the day once you looked into his worried eyes. His face glowed in the perfect places, the low lights highlighting him like he was an angel. Now you sobbed for a different reason. You sobbed for everything, but nothing at all. You sobbed because Jay was just… perfect.

Because he treats you like a younger sister. A brat who constantly annoys him and whom he needs to tolerate. And who, considering his previous girlfriends, probably does not like younger girls.

You leaned your forehead on his chest, and he didn't hesitate to wrap his warm arms around you, patting your back. Such a big brother thing to do for a depressed younger sister. You hated it, which made your cries even worse. What a mess. You were crying in the arms of the reason for it.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “Just school stuff”

“I understand if you don't wanna tell me” he said, before bringing you into a hug once more. Like an angel, he hummed softly into your ear as he drew circles at the back of your neck. If only life could be as beautiful as it was when he was next to you. His fingers were gentle and calming, and his body was like a blanket. You raised your head up.

“Jay?”

“Hm?”

“I need to get something out of my chest…”

“You can tell me, y/n, I won't judge” he smiled softly as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you”

The words slipped out of your mouth without thinking after his action, until you realised and your eyes widened.

“I- I mean- yeah- no! I don't- but I do… I do. It's something- something I held in for so long and you don't really need to reply because I just wanted to let you know because… no I don't love you! I do, but I don't want- I mean, what I'm saying is- I understand if you don't wanna talk to me anym-”

“Say that again”

Your mouth opened and closed in confusion, a red tint now clearly visible on your cheeks.

“Wha-”

“Say it again” he looked at you with longing eyes, like he was begging you to.

“I- I love you…”

“Hm?” a slight smile formed on his face.

“I am in love with you, Park Jongseong”

His hands swiftly travelled to the back of your head and he brought your face closer to his. With your noses brushing against each other, his exhales came out like a soft wave of warmth. His eyes landed on yours, your lips just centimetres away.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low.

“Please”

#enhypen #enha x reader #enha #enha scenarios #enha fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jay #enhypen oneshots #jay scenarios #jay gifs #jay x reader #jay imagines #jay #park jongseong #park jay imagines #park jay

[brainrotallthewaydown1312]

I've been seeing more and more people recently compare the current Good Omens/Our Flag Means Death/What We Do in the Shadows fandoms to the build up from the Superwholock days. and let me tell you, as someone who was just getting into fandom during the height Superwholock but was observing from outside those fandoms, i definitely see it.

similar amount of crossover within the fandom, similar types of crossposting. similar formats of engagement (response gifs, edits, and metas regularly breaching containment and being seen and engaged with by people outside the fandom) and similar intensity of theorizing and analysis. similar desire for comments and responses from writers and actors involved. I can even point out how they are analogous to each other as crossover fandoms.

good omens is the most obvious . it has the angels and demons and religious/mythological imagery of supernatural as well as the fandom engagement and irl stanning with the creators. it shares David tennant and several actors with doctor who. and you cannot look me in my face and honestly tell me that coffee theory and the similar theories don't have tjlc vibes and that the way we talk about and engage with Neil gaiman doesn't have the vibes of how sherlock fans engaged with Steven moffat and Mark gatiss if they weren't massively weird cunts to his fans and kind of homophobic.

our flag means death involves fictionalized and revised history as well as having several stories/arcs that feel like they are coming from different genres but that still fit together like doctor who. it also has the giffability and similar types of analysis for characters and relationships. it has both the capacity for mundane lines delivered so uniquely that they become deeply quotable like doctor who and lines that are so absurd that they are imminently quotable like Sherlock.

What We Do in the Shadows has the long running with a few different iterations thing that doctor who has. to a lesser degree, but still. it has the absurd dialogue and situations that Sherlock had but without the distain for its fans or weird homophobic subtext and queerbaiting. it has the wide representation of mythological and folkloric creatures and stories and consistent random out of context lore notes that supernatural had.

the most entertaining part of this is how deep we all seem to be falling into this. the depth of this crossover fandom hole definitely seems to go as deep as superwholock. I mean I've seen several friend groups that have a similar breakdown to what is going on in my house right now which is

me: has been a Tumblr kid since before the height of superwholock, escaped the curse of supernatural

roommate 1: was a supernatural fan on the Internet during the height of superwholock, escaped the curse of tumblr

roommate 3: was neither a supernatural nor a Tumblr kid but was in the Voltron Instagram fandom and has read more fanfic in total than the rest of us combined

roommate 3: has been busy playing Minecraft and Lego star wars the whole time all that mess was happening. knows nothing about fandom.

all of us right now: losing our collective shit about gay angels and pirates and vampires. at least one person in this house cries about them daily. there is at least one tortured wail echoing down the hall when someone gets a sad edit on their fyp/feed every day. we have regular in depth discussions of characters and head canons and different interpretations. we bribe each other to trade chores or do favors or let us win games by offering one shots of the other person's preference.

and I haven't seen this many people go this feral in this way since superwholock died down. and I'm having fun actually participating this time around

#our flag means death #ofmd #good omens #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #fandom #supernatural #doctor who #Sherlock #superwholock #our shadows mean omens

[itwoodbeprefect]

fic writer 20 questions

i was tagged by @luredin! thank you! <3

i feel like i've done this one (or one very like it) at some point before, but i couldn't find it when i went searching, so maybe i just read through it and composed answers in my head? or my very confused tagging system is understandably failing me.

How many works do you have on AO3?

right now, 242!

What's your total AO3 word count?

587,542.

What fandoms do you write for?

several! these days mainly starsky & hutch, but h50 is still very present too, and i think both stargate atlantis and 911 may also be worth mentioning. beyond that there's a lot of other things for which i'm working on a single fic, or there's a document with multiple of them but i only open it once in a blue moon.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

well. four out of five of these are for a fandom i wouldn't write for anymore today for obvious reasons, and the other one (Tell me I'm perfect) is a Shadowhunters fic:

It's the truth

Tell me I'm perfect (but tell me the truth)

I dare you to dare me

Finders Keepers

That escalated quickly

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i wish i did! i keep trying to get into a healthier habit on that front, because i love comments and i'd like to say thank you and engage with people more, but it's a complicated thing - not in real life, but in my head, unfortunately.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

not an easy question, and it's not because there's too many to pick from! i'll indulge in a little melancholy at times, and maybe even a somewhat things-aren't-perfect ending, but generally there's at the very least a solid spark of hope even if the rest of the fic was sad. i think maybe Sobering (a mash hawk/trap fic) could qualify for actual angst, but even that one i seem to have tagged as "angst? i think?" when i posted it.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

now this, this is where we get tangled up in weighing a hundred fluffy fics against each other to decide happiness rankings! maybe something like Flowers for no reason but you missed me (starsky/hutch) or And I love every inch of you (And then some, and then some) (h50 steve/danny) because both of those are just pure giddy happiness start to finish, which means the happiness has been building for the longest by the time the ending rolls around.

Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully, not really! most of my stuff is deeply inoffensive. there's been a sporadic comment here or there over the years of someone randomly telling me they didn't agree with something i wrote (by which i don't mean people pointing out genuine mistakes - that's very different, and very helpful), but even then i wouldn't necessarily classify that as "hate", just as a very awkward way to respond to reading something that annoys you for whatever reason. what springs to mind is one that started with "i have not seen the episode" and then proceeded to interpret an in context line from a character as my personal beliefs on whether children are capable of evil, so. that kind of thing.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

not officially! but unofficially i've been told that it's fun and really really sweet, so no surprises there.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not usually, which means that the craziest (and only) one on ao3 is probably the h50/s&h crossover (Said the apple to the orange), which is truly very uncrazy.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i wonder about that sometimes (i feel like after many many years and with the recent bot stuff on top, the answer should maybe be "probably"), but not that i know of!

there was an instance once of someone copying a story title, but they did so in a way that didn't even work. i was writing in dutch at the time, but english titles were Very Cool, so my story was called "ladies, bugs and ladybugs", and the other person took that, translated it to dutch, and used that for their story, which. those words don't match up the same way in the slightest, so it's just a random sequence of things by that point.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! actually, i was probably the first person to translate any of my fic - all of the very, very early stuff posted to ao3 was just an english copy of originally dutch stories - but these days there are also a lot of russian translations (russians seem to be very active in h50 fandom!), some mandarin, some french. one italian, i think. it's very cool!

also, shout out to people who do podfics, too. <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

a few attempts were made over the years, but most of that never went very far for one reason or another. none of it is on ao3.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

as of right now, probably starsky/hutch!

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

oh, i'm afraid i could fill, well, lists. one that immediately comes to mind that's technically a little past this category because i know i'll never finish it is a very long h50 project in which i took up about a hundred different little threads from the series and tried to weave them together into a giant fix-it-ish getting together coming out case fic sort of thing, and i still think the plotting work for that one was sound, but i'm just never going to actually get 100k down for a fic like that at this point in my life. (note that this is not a fic that's already up on ao3 in part - i'll finish those, one way or another.)

and oh my, for maybe a better answer: the starsky-watches-cowboy-movies starsky/hutch fic. i want to write that one, i do! and i am, and i do have real hope that i may one day finish it, but it's a fairly ambitious project in multiple ways, so there are some serious obstacles i will need to find some way around.

What are your writing strengths?

i love the patter of writing dialogue! people tell me characters sound believable and like themselves, so that's nice. also, balancing ridiculously fluffy things in such a way that it doesn't tip over into saccharine, and i also think i manage good jokes sometimes. i've been working on descriptions and atmosphere, and that's been fun.

What are your writing weaknesses?

i've completely unlearned how to write long stories! and ironically, i do write a lot of overlong sentences. also, i'll turn to google for absolutely anything, but deep down i'm a pretty impatient writer when research is needed and it doesn't happen to be a subject i'm already interested in, which oftentimes means i'd rather handwave things or scrap the idea entirely, even though i think really well-researched fic is amazing. and on that note, no matter how much american media and internet content i consume, i'm not american and have never been to america, which can be a challenge when writing for almost exclusively american fandoms. (i think i understand beds now, but i'll have to google sinks one of these days.)

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

ha! this was a thing that was very, very common for a while in my dutch fic writing community, because more or less all of the fictional properties and/or real life celebrities people were writing about were british or american (maybe with tokio hotel as the one notable exception), so there was A Lot of fic written in dutch with stilted high school english dialogue thrown in. i was never very into that, but hey, if it makes you happy, definitely go for it, and that goes double if it's just a few sentences for flavor! compared to what i used to see, ao3 culture is extremely conservative with these sorts of things.

all of which i say while also still, in the back of my head, considering the possibility of writing a really obnoxious ted lasso fic with 90% dutch dialogue, so. i too might become guilty at some point in the future.

First fandom you wrote for?

twilight! it was nessie/jacob, with i think a love triangle with a vampire thrown in. we all have to start somewhere.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

i recently reread How To Build A Triangle (or accidentally fall headlong into one, or whatever the fuck) and i still think it's really good and fun, plus it's a minor miracle that i got it finished so easily! there's a decent chance i'd name a different fic if you asked me again tomorrow, though.

Tagging

I have no idea who has already done this or been tagged for it, so I'm just going to throw a few names out there (@redgoldblue @actingcamplibrarian @stephmcx @spurious @goneahead), and then give the usual disclaimer that obviously i'm tagging you all with no pressure, and that if anyone sees this and it seems like a fun list of questions, i'm tagging you too! ✨

#tag stuff #*

[offscreendeath]

I finally watched Across the Spiderverse after months of putting it off and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

There's few movies, in my opinion, that live up to their hype and this is one of them. I'm not going to bother comparing it to the first in the series -- there's already plenty of that going on. But beyond the appealing art direction, score, humor and easter eggs, one of the things that really stuck out in my mind was the theme of "acceptance", in so many words.

In the film, we are treated to the classic Spider-Man themes of great power = great responsibility, having to balance home life and a superhero career, yadda yadda, we know the drill, been there, done that, nothing we haven't seen before.

What I didn't expect was to see this theme turned on its head. Sometimes that responsibility is incredibly unfair, and we often don't have enough power to deal with it on our own, at least through conventional, socially acceptable means.

The big speech Rio gives Miles isn't like the rest of the other speeches we've seen various Spider-Men being given. Rio affirms that Miles is loved and cherished, that he belongs where he is, that his presence isn't, as Miguel later states, "a mistake". This resonated with me, as I'm sure it did other people, particularly younger black kids. I'll explain why.

Miles is from New York City, Brooklyn to be exact -- an area that has rapidly become gentrified over the course of a generation, but particularly in the last few decades.

This means, among other things, higher prices for housing and other necessities, displacement of historic residents of the community and homeless populations, as well as a cultural clash between wealthy yuppies and natives.

None of this is explicitly explored in the film, which takes place in a fictional version of NYC, but it is relevant context nonetheless. Black youth are routinely criminalized, brutalized, surveilled and killed by law enforcement, and made scapegoats for "crime" by racist "concerned citizens" and vigilantes.

When everything from hostile urban infrastructure and officers from abusive, corrupt institutions (and ninja vampire spider-men) are telling you that you "don't belong", someone telling you that you're accepted and matter, can make a huge difference and go a long way in helping to build your self-esteem. It's this expression of unconditional love that, I believe, gives Miles the confidence to finally confess and reveal his hidden identity to (a version of) Rio towards the movie's finale, regardless of the warnings Gwen gave prior to this happening.

The difference between Miles & Gwen is that Gwen's father discovered her secret totally by accident. She was forced to reveal her identity rather than voluntarily offering that information. Before she had a chance to explain her motivations for keeping this hidden life to herself, it was too late. Miles, on the other hand, at least has a chance to come clean -- though it remains to be seen whether The Spot will interfere with this.

The Spot also craves acceptance, in his own way -- feeling that he's a joke, he's desperate to gain enough power to prove that he's a formidable opponent. His conditions has left him unable to easily re-assimilate into society -- permanently disfigured and incapable of living a "normal" life, he doesn't have the family that Miles has, nor a society of others with similar experiences to provide mentorship or community. He is totally alone, angry, sad, and probably scared.

Like Miles, Spot was in the wrong place at the right time. The accident leading to Spot's new body only granted him great power -- but no responsibility except to himself. It's hard to not feel sympathetic to Spot. Like most villains on Spider-Man's roster, his story is a tragic one. Perhaps if there were someone in his life like Rio, who could've told him that he's not a "mistake", he wouldn't feel so rejected and alone. Also like Miles, Spot is himself a scientist, not lacking in any brilliance -- only healthy, loving relationships and the respect that comes with it.

Miles is also actively undergoing puberty, a process that involves physical change as much as social and psychological ones. It is an awkward time for most, and with the additional stress of having to go to school and be the city's only Spider-Man, the struggle is definitely real and palpable.

Dealing with the weight of his parent's expectations, and the expectations of a city in need, as well as a whole multiverse of other Spider-People, it makes sense that Miles would feel constantly out of place, outclassed and overwhelmed by the many changes in his life, desperately attempting to spin multiple plates at once. Rio's words offer comfort and reassurance, but it is Gwen, Hobie, and Peter whose actions ultimately prove that he doesn't have to endure this struggle alone.

Managing to outwit and evade the entirety of Spider-Society with no outside help, Miles has proven he has the technical skill and experience to be Spider-Man. He's far from an amateur, regardless of Miguel's scathing, callous criticism. Miguel's insults are brushed off as Miles once again slips through his fingers and defies his orders to merely stand by as his father dies.

It is perhaps true, though, that Miles is naive to the threat of the canon being broken, that he is ignorant of the scale of the problem and that the risk is simply too high to alter the timeline, but it is not in his character to refuse a call to action, especially when it is someone he loves who is in danger.

Miguel seems to be using Miles' existence as a scapegoat for his internalized anger and grief regarding his own mistake in breaking the canon and its consequences. Losing everyone he once loved, as well as condemning the rest of the universe to erasure in the process, Miguel isn't wrong to worry about what Miles' actions could mean for everyone unless he is stopped. Rather than work with Miles to find a solution, he instead opts to prevent him from having even the opportunity to explore solutions to the problem.

Even with amazing futuristic technology and an entire veritable army of superpowered beings (mostly, with the exception of Hobie,) at his command, I think it's bizarre that Miguel isn't even willing to hear out Miles' concerns and desires. Instead, his first instinct is to capture him while his father dies alone, in an entirely different dimension than his own.

Perhaps Miguel is like Spot -- desperately needing someone to reassure him that his mistake was honest in nature, albeit a bit selfish, but that doesn't mean he should suffer with the resulting trauma and mental anguish indefinitely for it.

Everyone, save for a few, seem scared of Miguel, and for good reason. He has great power, for certain, but perhaps bears too much responsibility, which has warped his morals and led to him becoming a dogmatic quasi-authoritarian -- or, in Hobie's words, a "self-mythologizing, narcissistic autocrat!" Miguel is fully aware that he isn't the only Spider-Man who has dealt with the pain of losing loved ones, but he has made it his duty to lead a team dedicated to making sure that this collective trauma unfolds without a hitch. Though this doesn't make him a villain, necessarily, he is certainly an antagonist.

Upon my first of many viewings, I was certain that Gwen's father, Ex-Captain Stacy, would become another antagonist. Willing to draw a gun on and consider arresting his own daughter, I didn't have much faith in his development as a character, until it was revealed that he quit -- choosing his relationship with Gwen above his responsibilities as a cop. Perhaps Miguel could learn something from him, specifically that our futures are perhaps not written in stone, or at least that we have some degree of control over our fates, even if it isn't total control.

Finally accepted and free of the burden of concealing her secret, Gwen's relationship with her father is restored. Though initially hostile and obviously shaken by the realization, Gwen's father proves that parents and other authority figures still have an opportunity to grow, learning to accept others for who they are, provided they have enough time and self-reflection, and perhaps a few well-crafted persuasive words.

Ex-Captain Stacy is not alone. Earlier in the film, Jeff questions his merit as a father and worries about his changing relationship with Miles, fearing that he's become too distant or has somehow failed Miles in a crucial way. Perhaps Jeff has his own expectations he must grapple with.

Miles and Jeff don't have much in the way of a heartfelt speech together. Miles misses Jeff's speech at the party celebrating his promotion. The talk they do have together happens without Jeff's knowledge, though his respect for Spider-Man obviously has an impression on him, with Jeff suggesting to Rio later in the film that they should take his advice in dealing with Miles (aka, himself), giving him more space and trust as he matures into a young adult.

Though I want to work out how Hobie's character fits into this theme, this post has already gotten too lengthy and he deserves a post of his own -- not to mention we don't really get much of a serious exploration into his background or character to draw many conclusions from.

Suffice it to say, however, Hobie's ethos and actions would suggest that it's not only possible, but desirable and good to carve a niche for yourself, and seeming out of place or being underestimated can actually work to our advantage. Throughout the film Hobie constantly questions the actions and motivations of others, particularly Miles. This isn't done to make Miles insecure, only to encourage him to act on his own authority and be a free thinker, an essential component to being Spider-Man, not to mention an adult.

Well true believers, that's it for now. Thanks for reading. Until next time.

To be continued...

(By the way, why is "marvel mcu" a hashtag? the "M" stands for Marvel! You wouldn't say "DC Comics".

#across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spoilers #spider-man #miles morales #marvel #mcu #sony pictures #sony animation #miguel o'hara #gwen stacy #spider-woman #spider-punk #film analysis #movie analysis #2023 films #2023 #media analysis #media literacy #rio morales #jeff morales #the spot #atsv #spider man 2099 #spider man atsv #hobie brown #puberty #NYC #new york city #brooklyn

[heyclickadee]

So I forgot that this was in my drafts and has just been sitting in there for a month and a half. Anyway, actual ramblings on “Replacements”:

1. I took notes while watching this one. My first note just says, “Sad whale noises,” underlined four times, with a little frowny face.

2. Hunter’s little lopsided grin as he says, “Well, that doesn’t look comfortable—for either of you,” to Omega and Gonky. He’s stressed and not sure what to do next, but he’s still kind of playful at this point. The depression hasn’t quite set in. And Omega’s little, “We’re fine.” That’s the “We’re fine,” of, “My legs are asleep and I can’t feel my spine but I’d rather die than take up space or admit I’m uncomfortable because I don’t know what I can get away with around you guys,” I swear….

3. Gonky’s little kicky feets!! Also, how did he get down there? Did he fall over while Tech was doing some unnecessary barrel rolls? Did Wrecker put him there? Did he flop over so Omega could use him as a backrest?

4. Again, Hunter’s deadpan shake of the head when Wrecker just *fyoom* inhales that ration bar. Also, can we talk about how much living on ration bars must suck? You probably get your caloric needs for the day, but it’d be like eating one single cliff bar for every meal. You wouldn’t starve or be malnourished, but you’d never feel full, hence why Wrecker, who is lärge and probably has the metabolism of a Bugatti, never has (I want to make him all the treats! He deserves all the cinnamon rolls and pie and plank grilled salmon and burgers and…).

5. I do kind of appreciate that they start introducing the idea that practical needs, like food and ship fuel, are a concern for these guys, and that they’re more or less flat broke. Other Star Wars shows have touched on people having to actually pay for things to survive—that’s part of the point of the Lando episode of Rebels—but’s a constant thread in this show. Clone Force 99 is always a few really bad days from being stranded, because they can’t afford to fuel the ship, and starving, because they’re out of food.

6. I do kind of appreciate that even though Hunter physically pushes Wrecker back to keep him from grabbing Omega’s ration bar (good for Omega for offering it but), he does so pretty gently, and he drops his voice because even though he wants Wrecker to understand that Omega will absolutely inconvenience herself to make other people comfortable, he doesn’t want to call Wrecker out in front of the whole ship. He’s trying to make it as private as he can…in the space RV…with limited space. Besides, it’s not as though Hunter could shove Wrecker out of the way unless Wrecker allowed himself to be pushed. “I’m gonna push you away from someone who doesn’t need to overhear us now, back up with me,” seems to just be the accepted language of private conversation between all of them. And I also appreciate that Wrecker, as fundamentally kind, gentle, and emotionally intelligent as he is, does have a little trouble switching to/considering other perspectives. He never needs reminding once it’s pointed out, but he does sometimes need it pointed out to begin with.

7. Tech says he’s building the brain scanner so that he can double check that their chips don’t work. Bullshit. BULL. SHIT. I mean, okay, not total bullshit—I do think he’s at least partially telling the truth. He’s definitely thinking that Crosshair was acting the way he was because his chip activated, and if Crosshair’s chip activated, then why wouldn’t theirs? It’d be good to check. But I think that’s a secondary reason. Based on how he’s the one who brings up the chip as an explanation for Crosshair’s behavior, the added context of season two, and the way he totally drops the scanner after this episode until Rex shows up in episode seven, I really think he’s building it because he’s under the impression that they’re going back for Crosshair sooner than later, and he thinks they’ll need it to locate his chip so they can figure out a way to deactivate or remove it. Tech just told Echo what he did so he could keep working on it.

8. “It’s not affecting life support. We’re fine.” “Are you kidding me?!” I love them. Also: Shout out to poor Gonky rattling around the back of the Marauder like the last tic-tac left in the pack. Get the poor droid a seatbelt.

9. I love that Wrecker tests his tie-down to make sure it’s locked. The Bad Batch isn’t a perfect show, but I adore little background gestures like these, and it’s full of them, even compared to the other animated shows. They help the characters feel a little more alive.

10. I feel like I need to have a, “That’s one hell of a pilot,” counter for every time Tech does some impressive piloting. The ship isn’t functioning correctly and goes from zero visibility and turbulent conditions to, “OH SHIT, THE GROUND,” and a very narrow window in which he can react, and he still manages to land the ship. Not crash, land. With the landing gear down. And, yes, I’m sure that there is some kind of ILS system on the ship for low visibility landings, since this is a universe where autopilot exists, but still—Tech kind of strikes me as the sort of person who would turn autopilot off. (Also, tell me that if the ship would be in one piece if it was Anakin flying it. I love Anakin, and he’s a phenomenal pilot, but I also think that both Tech and Hera could outfly him.)

11. There’s something endearing about the way that they all spring into doing different jobs to figure out how to get out of the mess they’re in once they’ve landed—Echo’s checking the weather, since it’s knocking out their commas and they can’t call for help; Tech’s checking which parts they need to fix the ship and if they have any on board; Hunter’s making sure everyone’s okay and getting Gonky on his feet; Wrecker…might actually just be recovering because he hit his head pretty hard (STOP DOING THAT, WRECKER. STOP IT)—and Omega doesn’t want to be left out or useless so she instantly starts trying to help out, too.

12. “That’s…Crosshair’s weapon kit.” Hello darkness my old friend….

13. Everything about this moment is a gut punch. The way Hunter just stares at the weapons kit for a moment, the way that Wrecker’s the first one to speak up, the anger on Echo’s face when he counters with, “He shot you!”; the way Tech looks between Wrecker, the kit, and Echo a couple times before speaking up and then looks right at Echo as he finishes saying that it could be Crosshair’s chip that’s making him act the way he is, as though he’s trying to convince Echo specifically; Echo’s disbelief and the awfulness of, “That’s what they were designed to do.” Hunter shutting the conversation down before the debate really gets underway, and turning away from everyone (and us), probably so they (and we) can’t see his face. The way that each of them expresses one aspect of what they’re probably all feeling: the loss (Wrecker); the betrayal (Echo); the need for an explanation or a justification (Tech); and the way it’s all too painful to deal with (Hunter).

Speaking of Hunter, the way he reacts by shutting the conversation down and shifting the focus to the task at hand is a pretty well done depiction of the way some people deal with loss. Finding something to do, something to fix, something to keep your mind and hands busy, having a problem to solve; that’s just how some people are. Hunter isn’t taking Crosshair’s absence well, even at this point, and it’s important to remember that he only really found out about the chips and clone programming a few days ago. He’s probably still trying to reconcile that with the emotional betrayal of seeing Crosshair walk out into that hangar wearing black armor and ordering him to stand down.

Also, listen for a little four note motif in the music that plays under this scene. Then go listen to “Mayday.” I could be hearing wrong, but I could also be hearing right, and if I have to suffer, so do you.

14. Speaking of Crosshair, I really want to know why he needed another chip amplification procedure done. I mean, yes, it’s not definite that that’s what’s just happened to him when we cut to Kamino, but all the visual cues are there. My personal suspicion is that the first round took, as we saw at the end of “Aftermath,” but that it didn’t last the way it was supposed to after the batch left. My other personal suspicion is that this repeat procedure was potentially augmented, or more targeted, and that it wasn’t the only other time it happened to him. As much as a segment of the fandom was (and is) worried that Crosshair was or is going to be turned into another Clone X or proto-death trooper, I sort of think it works the other way around. Crosshair was already a test subject, we saw it happen in “Aftermath” and in this episode, and he might have already been patient zero for the early versions of what was later done to the poor guy who ended up as Clone X and the people who are going to end up death troopers, and his chip either being damaged or having to be removed after “Reunion” might be what saved him from being experimented on further, for a while, anyway. I don’t think being brainwashed again is in Crosshair’s future, just because that seems like the one way to screw up his character arc, but we’ll see.

15. God, the way Tarkin, Rampart, and the rest back up the literal chip-powered mind control poor Crosshair’s under with some good old fashioned regular brainwashing by making him a commander (in name only, apparently) of an elite squad of new recruits and talking about how important these new clone lead units are going to be for the transition into imperial power is just cruel. Crosshair’s brain is all kinds of messed up and they’re doing their best to make sure it stays that way. And Crosshair is so inexpressive through the episodes where his chip is at full strength compared to how he is in the rest of the show. He’s still in there, and it’s still him, but he’s being filtered through GoodSoldiersFollowOrders.exe and I just. What if I crawled into my screen and kicked Tarkin in the shins? What if I did that? (I would get shot, that’s what. But still.)

16. The Echo-Tech banter as they’re trying to fix the ship is fun, as is the Empire Strikes Back homage. Also, I love how Tech kind of downplays the situation by just saying that other systems are shutting down, and that Echo IMMEDIATELY jumps in and explains that SOMETHING IS ATTACKING THE SHIP.

17. So, we get Tech explaining that the creature is probably an ordo moon dragon, a creature that feeds on energy (we’ll get to that), and Echo saying that it would have been great if Tech had said that earlier. This isn’t the first of the last time someone will say something like this, and this next bit is kind of a silly thought based on almost nothing, but I sometimes wonder if Tech occasionally thinks he’s said something out loud or explained something when he hasn’t.

18. I don’t know what to do about the fact that the ordo moon dragon feeds on raw energy but lives on an apparently unsettled planet with no power generators or ships or whatevers, but it’s also not the only creature we meet that does this. The zillo beast also slurps down electricity like a breakfast smoothie. That kind of implies that there are natural sources of electricity around and that a number of creatures evolved to take advantage of is. But also it has teeth. Maybe it’s like the Zillo beast and can also eat other things. Maybe it grabs electric space eels, chews on electric charge for a while, and then eats the eel. Or something. I don’t know, it’s Star Wars, there are star whales that fly and jump through hyperspace, it doesn’t really have to make sense.

19. Omega says, “Then we’ll find a way to get him back—somehow,” and then Hunter looks back at her and smiles. And it kills me. And maybe it’s because we can only see half his face, but it’s the most unguarded smile I think we’ve seen from Hunter the entire show. He doesn’t think they can go back yet, but I think he still thinks it’s going to be possible someday, maybe even soon, and that when they do it’ll all work out and be fine and oh my sweet summer child…

20. That transition from Crosshair jumping down to Hunter and Omega walking though the mist is such a cool transition. You can’t even tell you’re in a new location until you see Hunter’s and Omega’s legs.

21. Crosshair opens fire on Saw’s camp, of course, but he misses. A lot. I think there’s one point where he fires four shots but only lands one. It’s not the batch, but he’s still pulling his shots here, as much as he can.

22. Along those lines, I do think it’s interesting that Crosshair doesn’t kill the civilians himself. They’re going to die, he can’t stop that, because those are the orders and he doesn’t have the capacity to say no to it at this point, but he passes the order along to his men. He doesn’t do it himself, and he doesn’t watch. Which is interesting.

23. Speaking of Crosshair’s men, you know what? Cowards. All except that one guy who had the backbone to say that murdering civilians is wrong. He’s a jackass about clones, but at least he’s not down for murder.

24. So the way Crosshair says, “dealt with,” when he reports to Tarkin and Rampart is brutal and it’s going to live rent free in my head.

25. *screams about the whole ending sequence with Wrecker and the room and the lights and Omega but also it’s the gunners chair and Crosshair sitting on his bunk and Echo patting Wrecker on the shoulder because he did a good thing and how the warmth of the one scene and the emptiness of the other enhance each other this show is going to kill me again*

#the bad batch