#//and their interactions are far from 'normal' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoiststowline · 2 days ago

Note

could i perhaps request a first kiss scenario with hoist please 🥹 he’s such a sweetheart i love him hehe

_hoist x reader

[a/n: i am so normal ab him i swear.]

Hoist is overly familiar with your tendency to ‘blow him kisses’, a gesture that never gets any easier to accept, whilst taking into account how often you use it. this is the first instance where he realizes he can’t suppress his abounding feelings for you, try as he may ever since he first recognized such affections.

he’s too afraid to ruin something that means so much to him. it’s a desire but he’s convinced himself that it’s not a necessary one, a friendship he can force himself to be content with. Hoist settles, because he’s not accustomed to having something to settle for. the bottom line in any rationalization of the situation was that as long as you were pleased, Hoist had no reason to disagree with his original course of action.

but you’re so enchanting, and suddenly in your presence he finds it arduous to keep his nonchalant demeanor from slipping. you look for conversation with him, discover that words arrive effortlessly when shared together. Hoist seldom finds himself alone anymore, delighted that the both of you are guilty of being at each other's side many hours of the day. there’s always something to talk about, he’s somewhat taken aback when you insist to hear about his day first.

he’d tried to greet you as normal, hoping to have drawn up a facade that was stable enough to make it through the exchange. immediately, your brow furrows upon seeing him, even from your position on his desk your eyes study him from his helm to the ground. Hoist is lucky if he can hide anything from you, so he’s truthfully dumbfounded how you hadn’t discovered his true feelings for you yet.

“Is everything okay?” you inquire, gentle as always and never one to pry.

far too hastily, he nods. “Just fine.”

Hoist is enamored, trying to follow your story about a humorous interaction with a co-worker, but he’s gotten lost about halfway through. you had tried to get him to enter the discourse, even poking at his hand that had landed just beside you once he had sunk himself into his desk chair. there was nothing to discuss, he hadn’t been productive the past eight hours since he saw you last, so any recollection of his day would be boring. as always, he reminds you, he’d much rather hear about what you’ve been up to.

yet, every time his gaze locks with yours, he feels sheepish, unable to focus. instead his optics then shift downward to your lips, and once that occurs, there’s little that will set him back on the rails.

briefly, he wonders if you notice how often he stares at you. Hoist hopes it never comes across as insincere if he has been caught, not ever wishing to offend you. Primus knows he’s received enough elbows to the gut from Trailbreaker, especially when he’s been found out by the mech.

“Again?” a fair blow to his side as he snaps his jaw shut, embarrassment flooding him temporarily.

groaning, Hoist recalls rubbing his side before turning to his friend. “It’s not as easy as you think it is.”

Trailbreaker had actually mulled his response over before agreeing. “Nah, it's not, but ya don’t know that for sure. Not unless you actually try, H.”

instantly, he’s snapped out of his reminiscence when your palm lands atop his servo. “Hoist? Are you sure you’re alright?”

a cursory ‘yes’ almost leaves him, but for once he actually gives pause.

what would he gain from turning this opportunity down? if he dismisses your worries once more, he’d only be shelving this confession only to talk himself out of it once more.

Hoist is hyper aware of how warm your palm is, daring to steal a glance. your hand is so small, it almost feels impossibly so, but he’s tugged back to reality when your fingers brush over his knuckles.

then, you repeat the same motion, meaning you’re searching to comfort him, genuinely troubled by his unusual behavior. you’re patiently awaiting his answer, not being pushy or unfair, only forcing another admirable trait of yours to the forefront, your seemingly never ending patience.

“No,” Hoist can’t move, all his joints feel like they are locked. somewhat aware that he has to continue so as to not appear unhinged, he hastily adds: “I mean, I’m fine. But there is something I have to tell you, y/n.”

“Okay.” you extend, going to pull your hand back but Hoist is just that much faster, successfully but benignly taking your retreating hand between two of his digits.

Hoist wouldn’t call it pouring his spark out, but he definitely added far too much additional information than called for. once he started, he couldn’t stop, rambling from how happy you make him feel, to the immense loneliness he experiences whenever the two of you are apart. it’s an offer, he’s proposing the idea of moving the friendship to something with a more definitive label, a romantic one.

he’s expecting you to say no. his shoulders deflate amongst his chaotic nonsense, but it isn’t relief that claims it. it’s the anticipation that you don’t feel the same, the awaited rejection that has him wondering how he even gathered the courage to do this in the first place.

somewhere in the middle, that envision changes, watching as your entire face alights. your smile is of a familiar compassion, but there’s a look in your eyes that has him stumbling over his words at times. listening to every word, you forbearingly wait until he’s concluded before trying to return the favor.

yet, your mouth opens, and nothing comes to fruition. still all smiles, you’re entirely too stunned to try and conjure up anything like what Hoist just presented to you.

“That was so sweet,” you whisper, voice breathy and hardly audible. unsure if that was meant more for you or for Hoist, the green mech above you goes rigid once more.

“I didn’t quite catch that.” he treads, uncertainty seizing him like a vice.

instead of repeating yourself, you beckon him closer with your free hand.

Hoist lowers himself, ungraceful his middle name. “Hm?”

the servo that wasn’t holding yours grips the edge of his desk, almost bending under his weight as you leave a kiss atop his face-shield, tiny fingers ghosting under his chin in the most benevolent and loving touch he’s ever experienced.

“You’re perfect.” you hum, unwilling to withdraw early. “I love you too, Hoist.”

#sul tf writes #transformers #maccadam #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x reader #transformers x human #hoist x reader #transformers hoist #hoist imagine #hoist headcanons #hoist #hoist my beloved

48 notes · View notes

bettelaboure · 22 hours ago

Text

⊹Two out of twenty⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

second part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: strong language and suggestive content, themes of manipulation and power dynamics, emotional tension and uncomfortable social interactions, entions of body image and self-esteem issues

⊹ Summary: Seung-Hyun, a shy trainee at YG Entertainment, faces pressure from the popular and manipulative reader, who offers him a deal—she’ll help him improve his chances with girls, but in return, he’ll tutor her in English. Despite his initial rejection and distaste for her attitude, Seung-Hyun finds himself grappling with his feelings after witnessing the reader’s cruelty and undeniable allure. After an uncomfortable encounter where she attempts to seduce him, Seung-Hyun wrestles with his emotions and, influenced by his friend Young-bae’s advice, ultimately agrees to her terms. Their complicated dynamic is just beginning, and the consequences of this deal remain to be seen.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Your phone buzzed against the plastic of your vanity, a faint vibration that barely registered over the sound of your playlist echoing off your bedroom walls. You glanced down at the screen out of habit, expecting another snap from So-ra or a comment on your latest post.

Instead, it was a message from a number you didn’t have saved.

[Unknown Number]: I’m in.

Your gum froze between your teeth mid-chew.

You stared at the screen, waiting for the context to correct itself. Surely, this wasn’t him. You tapped the message, confirming the number—yup, from the class chat. Definitely Seung-Hyun. A laugh bubbled in your throat, breathless, disbelieving.

"Am I glitching?" you muttered to no one, blinking like your brain needed to reboot.

You typed out your reply on impulse, fingers moving faster than thought.

Great. Send me a pic of you.

You hit send, then smirked—just imagining his face twisting in confused panic. Predictable. It only took five seconds before a follow-up notification hit your screen.

You didn’t let him stew too long.

I’m joking. Chill, trainee boy.

There was a pause. You could almost feel him internally short-circuiting through the silence. Then, finally, another buzz.

8pm. Library.

You sat up straighter, chewing a little slower. The smirk on your lips curled into something different—curious, maybe even a little impressed.

You’re serious now? Don’t flake on me, Choi. Bring your boring notebook.

The library smelled like old books and industrial cleaner, the kind of sterile scent that clung to the air long after the last class ended. Most of the lights had been dimmed, except for a few clusters near the front desk and the far tables. Rows of shelves loomed in quiet formation, casting long shadows under the fluorescents.

You were already there, legs crossed at a back corner table, tapping your pen against a paperback you had no intention of reading. When you saw Seung-Hyun walk in—hood up, backpack slung low on one shoulder—you straightened, slipping your phone into your jacket pocket.

He saw you and paused like he wasn’t sure this wasn’t all an elaborate setup to mock him in public.

“You’re late,” you said.

He raised a brow. “You’re always late.”

You shrugged. “Fashionably.”

He sat across from you stiffly, dropping his notebook and textbook on the table without a word. You watched him in silence for a second, noting the way his hair curled near his ears, slightly damp like he’d showered just before coming. He smelled faintly of soap and something warm, maybe cinnamon gum or laundry detergent. It didn’t suit him. It made him too… normal.

He opened the notebook to a fresh page. “So what’s your problem in English?”

“Where do I begin?” You leaned in dramatically. “I suck at tenses. Present perfect makes me want to throw myself down a flight of stairs. And don’t even get me started on prepositions.”

He blinked. “That’s… a lot.”

You grinned. “You’re the one who said yes.”

He began scribbling something down—simple examples, neatly spaced and painfully legible. You watched his fingers more than the words. They were long, calloused at the knuckles, a little ink-stained.

“Why’d you say yes?” you asked suddenly.

He looked up, pen hovering over the paper.

You cocked your head, voice softer. “I didn’t think you would.”

He didn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure yet if I regret it.”

Your lips twitched. “Wow. Brutal.”

He almost smiled—but didn’t. “Just being honest.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “So honest. So serious.” Then, with a mischievous glint: “Is this how you flirt? Because it’s tragic.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I’m not flirting.”

“Pity.”

He looked down, trying to hide the way his mouth threatened to betray him with a smile. You saw it anyway.

You flipped the notebook toward you and squinted. “Okay, explain this part again. ‘I have eaten’ versus ‘I ate’—why does one sound like it’s bragging?”

“It’s about context,” he said, adjusting in his seat. “Present perfect is used when the experience matters more than when it happened. Like if I say ‘I have eaten octopus,’ it means I’ve tried it at some point. ‘I ate octopus’ is just a story about the past.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So if I said, ‘I have kissed a boy,’ I’m flexing?”

He froze. Then coughed. “I guess. Yeah.”

You leaned in further, voice low. “Want me to try both in a sentence?”

“Please don’t.”

You laughed, loud enough to make the librarian at the front glance up over her glasses. You stifled it with a grin, flipping a page.

Seung-Hyun shook his head, but his eyes had that glint again. That mix of discomfort and fascination. You were chaos in lip gloss and eyeliner, and he had no defense for it.

He pointed to the next exercise. “Try this one.”

You took the pen, your hand brushing his. It was deliberate.

You didn’t speak on it.

Neither did he.

But something in the air had changed—less like rivalry, more like tension tied with invisible string.

The silence between you had settled into something like rhythm—pages turning, pens scratching, the faint buzz of a dying ceiling light overhead. You stretched your legs beneath the table, your knee brushing his just enough to feel it. He didn’t flinch, but he definitely noticed. The slight hitch in his breathing gave it away.

“You know,” you said lazily, closing your workbook, “you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

Seung-Hyun glanced up from his notes. “That’s your way of saying thanks?”

“That’s my way of not throwing this grammar book out the window.”

His mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile, then vanished like it wasn’t allowed to stay.

You tilted your head. “You always that serious?”

“I’m just focused.”

“Focused,” you echoed. “Right. That’s what they call it now.”

He frowned slightly but didn’t answer.

You tapped your pen against your lips, watching him. “You ever think about relaxing, Choi?”

“It’s Seung-Hyun,” he muttered without looking up.

You grinned. “I know. I just like how your eye twitches every time I say it wrong.”

He gave you a sideways look—dry, tired, maybe slightly amused.

You let the moment sit, then leaned in, just enough for your voice to lower without needing to whisper.

“So. About our deal.”

He stiffened slightly. “I said I’d help with English.”

“Mmhmm. And I said I’d help you stop being an adorable little ghost that no one notices.”

His brows knit. “I don’t need help with that.”

You tilted your head again, fingers dragging through your hair like you knew what it did to a boy’s focus. “Don’t you? Because I’m pretty sure Se-mi didn’t even see you.”

His expression faltered.

Too far?

You softened your voice. “Hey. I’m not trying to be mean.”

“You’re doing a great job not trying,” he said, dry.

You smiled. “Fine. I’m blunt. But I don’t lie.” You paused, eyes dragging over him slowly—measured, not predatory, just seeing. “You’re not invisible, Seung-Hyun. You’re just... hiding. And if you really want someone to see you, you’re gonna have to step into the light.”

His gaze met yours then—longer than it should’ve been. Still guarded, but curious.

You leaned closer, your voice slipping into something softer.

“I could teach you, you know. What to say. What not to say. What kind of smile works best in a crowded hallway. The science of attraction.”

He pulled back slightly, blinking. “You make it sound like a formula.”

You shrugged. “It kind of is. People are predictable. You just need the right tools.”

He gave you a look—half skeptical, half intrigued. “And you’re offering to be… what? My dating coach?”

“Think of me as a… social translator.” You grinned. “You’re fluent in verbs and vocabulary. I’m fluent in chemistry.”

He stared at you. “That sounds—”

“Dangerous?” you interrupted, smug. “Only if you have something to lose.”

You stood, slowly gathering your things. “Same time tomorrow?”

He hesitated. “I guess.”

You stepped close—close enough to brush his arm as you passed. “Good. Maybe next time I’ll teach you how not to look like you’re about to bolt every time a girl gets within three feet.”

He flushed slightly, opening his mouth to reply—but you were already gone, walking out the door with the kind of sway you knew he was still watching.

Behind you, the sound of his notebook closing was quiet, but not quiet enough to miss.

Friday morning the school bell rang out over the courtyard like a warning shot. Students swarmed in waves, laughing, groaning about homework, phones out, sleeves tugged down over fingertips to fight the early chill. Somewhere near the front gate, a soccer ball rolled across the walkway and two boys chased it with half-eaten bread in hand.

You stood by the cherry tree near the main path, surrounded by your usual orbit: Jae-mi, glossy-lipped and whispering about weekend plans; Eun-ji, scrolling through her feed, eyes sharp behind her bangs; and Soo-ah, picking at her acrylic nails with the concentration of someone solving world peace.

“Did you hear Se-mi turned down three guys this week?” Jae-mi said, voice pitched for performance. “She’s on a power trip.”

You smiled vaguely but didn’t answer. Your gaze was fixed on something—or someone—past their shoulders.

He was walking with his head down, backpack slung low, hoodie up despite the clear skies. Seung-Hyun. Moving like he wanted to disappear into the crowd, invisible as always.

Until now.

“Hello, Choi,” you called, voice easy. Not loud. But clear enough.

His steps faltered.

He looked up. Blinking. Like maybe he imagined it.

You lifted a hand in a small wave. Not coy. Not dramatic. Just… familiar.

His mouth opened slightly. Then closed. He gave you a slow, unsure nod. No smile. Just confusion simmering behind his dark eyes.

Your friends froze.

Jae-mi tilted her head. “Did you just say hi to that guy?”

You didn’t look away. “Yeah.”

“Like—out loud?”

You finally turned back to them, unbothered. “He helping me with English. I’m being polite.”

“Right,” Soo-ah drawled. “Polite. To that guy. The YG trainee one?”

Eun-ji narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t he cry when that drama teacher yelled at him last year?”

“He didn’t cry,” you muttered.

They stared at you, then at each other, like something in the social weather had shifted.

You could feel the judgment simmering beneath their lip-glossed smiles. But you didn’t care. Not this time.

You watched Seung-Hyun’s retreating figure disappear up the stairs toward the east wing, and for a second, something tugged deep in your chest.

Seung-Hyun walked fast.

Not enough to draw attention, but fast enough that his steps had an edge—like maybe he was being chased by a thought he didn’t want to catch up to.

“Hello, Choi.”

He heard it again in his head, the way you said it like it wasn’t strange at all. Like saying his name in front of your friends didn’t cost you anything.

He reached his locker with a sharp twist of the dial and tried not to think. But the voices carried.

“That was weird, right?”

“I thought she hated guys like him.”

“Maybe it’s pity. Or a dare.”

He didn’t look back. Didn’t let them see how his fingers clenched tighter around his combination lock. He wasn’t new to whispers. But this one hit different—because this time, it was you.

Not mocking. Not dismissive. Just… acknowledging him. Like it meant something.

He pulled open the locker door and let it shield his face for a moment. Just long enough to breathe.

Behind the metal, his mind flickered through every interaction this week:

Your teasing smirk.

That moment in the library when your knee brushed his.

The joke text about a selfie.

The way you said "chemistry" like it was a secret.

What are you doing? he thought.

Not just you.

Him.

Because part of him wanted to disappear again—fade back into the background where no one asked questions.

But another part—the quieter, buried part—liked that you’d said his name like it belonged in your mouth.

He hated that part a little. It made him feel like he was standing on glass.

A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

He turned. It was Young-bae, hoodie half-zipped and a lollipop in his mouth, eyebrows raised.

“Dude,” Young-bae said around the candy, “you look like you just got asked to prom by Satan.”

Seung-Hyun blinked. “What?”

“I saw her,” Young-bae said. “Her. Popular girl. The ‘I only chew cherry gum and date athletes’ one. She said hi to you like you weren’t a ghost.”

“I don’t know what that was,” Seung-Hyun muttered.

“Oh, I do.” Young-bae grinned. “That was social suicide—hers. You’re officially dangerous.”

Seung-Hyun shoved a book into his bag. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Young-bae leaned against the locker beside him. “Sure it doesn’t. And the moon is made of rice cakes.”

He paused, eyes narrowing.

“But... let’s say she’s not messing with you. Let’s say she’s actually trying to be cool. You still tutoring her?”

Seung-Hyun nodded.

“And she’s still gonna ‘teach’ you how to get girls?”

“I guess.”

Young-bae popped the lollipop out of his mouth. “Then maybe don’t run every time she gets within five feet.”

“I don’t run.”

“You bolt like the building’s on fire,” Young-bae said. “You’re allowed to like her, man. Or hate her. But either way, stop pretending you’re not in the middle of something weird and probably life-ruining.”

Seung-Hyun stared at the floor for a moment.

He didn’t like how true that sounded.

He should have felt in control. This was supposed to be transactional. Mutual use. But the moment you said his name like it mattered, something shifted.

It wasn’t about English anymore.

The school library at night felt like a different world. The lights hummed low and warm, casting golden pools across rows of aging encyclopedias and dusty fiction. Outside, rain tapped gently against the tall windows. The kind of sound that made everything feel slower. Closer. Like the world had narrowed down to just this moment.

You were already there, lounging in the far corner near the back window—the one with the soft green chair you always claimed during exams. Legs crossed, a hoodie slouched off one shoulder. Casual, but calculated. Your phone glowed in your hand, but your eyes flicked up the moment he appeared in the doorway.

Seung-Hyun hesitated. One foot in, one out. His hair was damp from the drizzle, curling slightly at the ends, hoodie clinging to his collarbones.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice a soft tease.

He checked his watch. “It’s 8:02.”

“Exactly.” You grinned and gestured for him to sit. “Every minute matters when you’re flunking.”

He dropped his backpack on the floor and slid into the chair across from you, already pulling out his notes. His movements were precise, like a soldier on a mission.

You watched him for a beat. The way his fingers drummed lightly against his notebook. The slight crease in his brow when he read. You’d seen boys try to look smart. He didn’t have to. It just... lingered on him.

You leaned forward, voice low. “Why do you look like I’m about to interrogate you?”

He didn’t look up. “Because you usually are.”

You smirked. “Touché.”

For the next twenty minutes, the tutoring actually resembled tutoring. You flipped through grammar worksheets. He corrected your sentence structure with calm efficiency. There were moments when your knees brushed under the table, and he’d shift just slightly, a controlled flinch. You pretended not to notice.

Until you did.

You waited until he was mid-sentence about verb tenses before interrupting.

“So,” you said, casually twisting a strand of your hair, “when do we start your tutoring?”

His pen froze.

He looked up, slowly. “My what?”

“You know,” you said, voice syrup-smooth, “the whole how to get girls part of our deal. Or were you hoping I’d forget?”

He blinked, visibly uncomfortable. “I thought you were joking.”

“You think I came up with that whole plan just to flirt with you in a library twice a week?” you said, cocking your head. “Cute.”

He hesitated. “I don’t... need help with that.”

You raised a brow. “Right. Because the whole Se-mi thing was flawless.”

That hit. He stiffened, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You said we’d help each other,” you said, softer now, less sharp. “I don’t make empty promises.”

He studied you. Like he didn’t trust the version of you in front of him. Like he was still looking for the catch.

"You want me to flirt with you?" Seung-Hyun said it like the words tasted strange in his mouth.

You were sprawled across the soft green library chair now, one leg tucked beneath you, hoodie slipping further down your shoulder, exposing a thin strap. Your smile curved slowly, lazily—like a cat stretching in the sun.

"Don’t sound so horrified," you drawled. "It's practice. You want to learn, don’t you?"

"I just..." He looked down at his notes like they might offer a better answer. "I’ve never... I don’t really do that."

"Exactly." You leaned forward, voice low, amused. "That’s why we’re here."

He hesitated. "What am I supposed to say?"

"You’re overthinking it," you said, shifting to sit straighter, eyes locked on him. "Flirting’s not about being perfect. It’s about making someone feel like they’re the only person in the room. That little moment of tension." You let the pause linger. “Of possibility.”

He didn’t respond, but you saw it—the way his eyes flicked to your mouth and back, quick and cautious.

“Okay,” you said, tapping your pen against your lower lip. “Let’s make it simple. Pretend I’m a girl you like. What’s the first thing you’d say?”

“You are a girl.”

You gave him a slow, amused look. “Wow. Killer instincts. No wonder Se-mi was swept off her feet.”

He sighed. "I’m serious."

“So am I,” you said. “This is how people flirt, Seung-Hyun. Not in textbooks. Not with flashcards. It’s energy. Look at me.”

He did.

Not cautiously this time. Not flinching.

Just... looked.

Something in your chest flipped.

“Better,” you murmured. “Now say something that’d make me want to keep talking to you.”

Silence.

Then, he said, carefully, “You look different when you’re not pretending to hate everyone.”

Your mouth parted, just slightly.

He blinked, startled at himself. “Was that—was that rude?”

You tilted your head, studying him. “No. That was... honest.”

He looked like he was waiting to be teased. Waiting for you to call him awkward, or weird, or hopeless.

But you just smiled. Small. Genuine.

“You know what the trick is?” you asked softly.

He shook his head.

“You don’t have to say the perfect thing,” you said. “You just have to mean it.”

He looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

You leaned in, voice like velvet. “Want to try again?”

He hesitated. Then glanced at you from beneath his bangs. “You look really good tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “A little generic, but points for effort.”

He groaned quietly, hiding his face behind his notebook. You laughed.

“Don’t hide. Confidence, remember?” you teased, nudging his shoe under the table.

“I don’t know how you make this look so easy,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed.

“It’s not about ease,” you said, the playfulness in your voice softening. “It’s about not being afraid to try. Most people never do.”

He looked up at you again. This time, something steadier settled in his eyes.

“What if I said... I notice when you laugh for real. Not that fake one you do with your friends.”

The smile on your face stilled. Your pulse ticked in your neck.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Was that—?”

“That was good,” you said, barely above a whisper.

The air between you shifted—electric in its stillness. The quiet hum of the library faded into background static. You didn’t look away. Neither did he.

It wasn’t a line. It wasn’t a performance.

It was connection.

The kind that sneaks up on you. That sinks in beneath your skin.

“I think,” you said slowly, “you’re gonna be better at this than you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, “you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

You grinned. “Don’t ruin my reputation.”

You both laughed, soft and close, the moment easing just enough.

Then you pulled back slightly and tapped his notebook.

“Okay, lover boy,” you said, tone shifting. “Back to grammar. Unless you want to fail and die alone.”

He groaned. “You’re evil.”

You smiled at him over the rim of your textbook. “Yeah. But I’m the kind of evil that’s helping you win.”

He shook his head, but that smile—half shy, half real—lingered on his lips.

And for the rest of the hour, he didn’t look at his notes the same way.

Monday came faster than you wanted. You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jae-mi, talking about the upcoming week.

“What are we talking about?” the irritable voice of Se-mi popped up beside you. If only human bug repellent were a thing.

“None of your business.” You replied.

“C’mon, Y/N. We’re all friends here.” You looked towards Jae-mi to see if she felt the same about Se-mi. You couldn’t stand her after witnessing her humiliate Seung-Hyun.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Jae-mi tiredly asked Se-mi.

“Don’t you have a diet to start?”

“Don’t you have some small dicks to suck?” You fired back. You could deal with Se-mi coming for you, but not your friends.

“No need to be so rude, Y/N. I was only playing around.” She giggled and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, and left your table.

You looked back at Jae-mi.

“Remember that the part of me teaching Seung-Hyun about girls stays a secret. I cannot have anyone finding out about it. It’s embarrassing enough that I need a tutor for English.”

“Loud and clear, Unnie! But don’t forget to give me all the juicy details afterwards.” She winked and you got confused. You weren’t sure if there ever will be any.

Near the end of school, you managed to find Seung-Hyun by his locker down an empty hall.

“Hi, I wanted to know what times you can do for tutoring this week.”

“How’s about tomorrow at lunch?” He answered, pulling a book from his locker.

“Where?”

“The library.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Can’t we go somewhere with a little fewer people?” You suggested and he turned around to look you down in the eyes, obviously irritated.

“So you said “hi” to me this morning, but then you don’t want anyone to see you with me?”

“That’s not it.” Seung-Hyun wasn’t buying it. “I’m just a little embarrassed to be tutored.” That wasn’t a lie. Showing a weakness meant people would be ballsy and you did not want that.

“Okay.” He nodded understandably. “How about your place after my dance practice?”

Your place? That was a no.

“Your place.” You corrected. “My parents are having a dinner party and it would be a little bit disruptive.” You bit your lip, hoping he’d buy it. He did.

“Okay, my parents won’t be home tomorrow. Are you okay with that?” What a gentleman.

“Sound good, text me your address.”

You were late.

By exactly forty-seven seconds, not that anyone was counting. But judging by the look on Seung-Hyun’s face when he opened the door, he had been.

His neighborhood surprised you. Quiet. Too clean. The kind of place where the streetlights hummed gently and the air smelled like laundry and trimmed hedges. You pulled your coat tighter around you, hood still up, and stepped into his world like you didn’t belong.

“You’re late,” he said, deadpan, stepping aside.

“Relax. I’m not a whole minute late,” you muttered, brushing past him.

He led you to the kitchen, and it was almost laughably domestic. The table was covered in neatly stacked textbooks, printouts, and pens lined up like soldiers. Seung-Hyun’s version of war.

“I’ve made a schedule,” he said, already sounding exasperated.

You blinked. “A what?”

He turned to look at you, gaze sharp behind his bangs. “If you ask that again, I’m kicking you out.”

You lifted your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, geez. Chill, Mr. Corporate.”

“It outlines what we’ll cover in each session,” he continued, ignoring you. “No questions. No whining. I’ve got dance, vocals, and now tutoring you, so forgive me for being efficient.”

“Give me the damn thing,” you muttered, grabbing it from his hand.

Your fingers brushed his. Warm.

You ignored that.

The paper was... thorough. Grossly so. Charts. Time blocks. Tiny notes like "focus on past perfect" and "reinforce participles." You grimaced.

“Is this your version of foreplay?” you asked sweetly, flipping the page.

He didn’t answer. You took that as a win.

Two hours later, you were practically cross-eyed from conjugating verbs you didn’t care about. Seung-Hyun sat across from you with a red pen and an expression that read deep disappointment.

You watched him sigh, rub a hand through his hair, and mark something down.

“Well?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

His eyes met yours, flat and unimpressed. “You don’t know anything about English.”

You snatched the test sheet out of his hands. Bold red ink glared back at you: 2/20.

“Two?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me? I thought you were supposed to be some genius tutor.”

“I never said you’d magically become literate in two hours,” he muttered, already packing up his notes.

“It’s not me. It’s your methods.”

“It’s not the method. It’s you,” he snapped, glancing at the clock. “We’re done anyway.”

You grabbed your bag and stormed into the living room, flopping dramatically onto the couch. You hated English. You hated past tenses. You hated that he was right.

A moment later, Seung-Hyun stepped in, arms crossed, watching you like you were some strange animal loose in his house.

“What are you doing?”

“Recovering,” you replied. “That was mental warfare.”

“On me, maybe,” he muttered. “That was basic grammar.”

You patted the cushion next to you. “C’mon. Your turn.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “What?”

“Your part of the deal. I suffer through verbs. You suffer through girls.” You raised a brow. “Or was the tutoring thing just one-sided?”

Understanding dawned in his face—and with it, color. A faint red dusted his cheeks. You watched it crawl up like a slow sunrise.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. “Relax. I’m not gonna make out with you on your mom’s couch.”

He looked like that exact thought had just sprinted across his brain. Twice.

You patted the cushion again. “Sit, Choi.”

He did, slowly, like it might be a trap.

You turned to face him fully, elbow on the backrest, head propped in your hand. You were close enough to count the faint freckles near his temple. Close enough to see how fast he blinked when you looked at him too long.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” you asked casually, like you were asking about the weather.

He froze. “What does that have to do with anything?”

You shrugged. “If we’re gonna teach you how to talk to girls, I need to know what kind of damage I’m working with.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a cough and a protest. “I... I don’t think that’s relevant.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice. “So that’s a no.”

He swallowed. “It’s not—none of your business.”

You smiled slowly. “That’s adorable.”

He looked like he wanted the couch to eat him.

You didn’t press further. You just let the silence sit for a moment, not awkward but heavy—charged. Like the edge of something that hadn’t tipped yet.

Then you reached over, gently nudging his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” you said, voice softening just a little. “You’ve got me now.”

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

#bigbang #fanfic #big bang #choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun scenario #t.o.p bigbang #choi seunghyun x reader #top x reader

42 notes · View notes

toxicrelief · 1 day ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter ten

Synopsis: After as bad a fight as you had just experienced against Omnipotus, a lot of the Guardians are in need of your assistance. So, it’s time to make your rounds, after a brief visit to an old friend.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter: 10/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Descriptions of Gore and Excessive Blood, Descriptions of Vomiting

Note: Okay I lied, NEXT chapter will bring us to chapter one. getting super close :) and thank you everyone for the comments and theories! I love reading them!

“Flowers?”

“I didn’t know what else to get.” You admit with a lopsided smile, holding out the bouquet in front of you. “It didn’t feel appropriate to get you some random bottle of liquor when I have no clue what you like.” Rex was far easier to apologize to, maybe that was one of his few strengths. You had thought you were making progress with him, but you honestly had a really hard time reading him. You just knew he was hiding something; you couldn’t tell if it was related to you or not.

Donald hesitated before taking them from you. His head turned from side to side, looking for somewhere to place them, but he obviously did not spot someplace satisfactory. You felt bad now, he looked unbelievably dorky holding an obnoxiously sized bundle of flowers. “Thanks…”

“I snapped at you, during the museum job. And I’ve felt bad about it for ages.” Your hands gestured with you while you talked. “I bought these right before the showdown with Omnipotus, and since you’re here now it seemed like the best time.” In retrospect, it definitely was not.

He looked down at them, you couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a steady frown on his lips. “You snapped at me?”

You grimace slightly, maybe you have made the interaction much bigger in your head. After all, Cecil probably yelled at Donald enough that he hardly noticed a difference. Still, you did not want to excuse yourself when you knew you should be better. “I did, and I am sorry.”

“Oh, okay.” Donald returns his gaze to the flowers, the fluorescent lights of the Guardian’s headquarters reflecting off of them.

You liked Donald. He was quiet, competent. He could go completely unnoticed, but you knew how important he was. How much he did for the GDA. You had seen it firsthand when Cecil was familiarizing you with everything. Donald had supplied you with the files of all the superheroes you were going to work with after you had expressed anxiety to him about your oncoming situation. He never said much, but you felt comfortable in his presence. Like an old friend you used to tell everything, now you were distant, but you knew they had your best interest at heart.

A small silence settled over the two of you and you realized how odd it was to see him in the Guardians Headquarters.

“Why are you here Donald?” You inquired, now over the nerves of apologizing. “Did Cecil send you to check on everyone?”

“Yes, but more specifically you.”

“Aw, you guys worried about me?” You give him a cocky smile and lightly punch his arm, immediately feeling awkward afterward when he looks at your point of contact without speaking.

“How are you feeling? It was pretty rough out there, and the scanners are showing that your brain waves are still running slower. You’re not healing as quickly as we would like.”

“It was a rough battle, I’ll adjust.” You nod, you know he’s right, the residual headache is still there even a few hours later. “I think after a night’s sleep I’ll be back to my normal capacity. Right now, I just want to make sure everyone else is doing okay.”

“Everyone is alive, as far as I know none of them are in critical condition. Let them heal naturally or heal them tomorrow after resting.”

You put your hands on your hips raising a brow at him. “Is this a suggestion or an order Donald? Because it is my job to heal these people. I am not going to make them wait because I have a little headache.”

“It is a suggestion from someone who cares.” He says softly. “Your vitals have been all over the place for weeks, you’re unbalanced. With your incident and the last few close calls, you need to be more careful until you reach standard levels.”

The incident. Just call it what it is. You let someone die, no need to dance around it. You frowned slightly to yourself. Both Donald and Cecil had been dancing around the subject at hand. You didn’t even know the man’s name. Maybe it would be inappropriate to visit the grave of someone you had failed that much, but part of you wanted to. A more selfish part of you hoped that if you could, the nightmares would go away.

Maybe Donald and Cecil weren’t dancing around it, maybe they had just moved past it. And you were the one stuck in the past. If you weren’t careful it would start to affect your efficiency. You needed to start trying to move on. You can’t save everyone. But you should have been able to save him.

You blink a few times at Donald and then give him a soft smile. “Donald, I really appreciate your concern, but I am okay. I’ve got this. And if I don’t, should I really be on the team?”

“You’re not on the team Killdeer. You work for Cecil, and your worth expands beyond healing some scratches.”

You give him a nod of acknowledgment, but you have no intention of slinking off to bed in your apartment while these people are in pain. “Thank you, Donald.” You utter softly, before turning to leave the room you are standing in.

“Keep your earpiece in.” Donald says, and you look back at him for a final glance. He’s standing alone in the center of the room. The flowers held lightly in his grip. It was sweet really.

“I will Donald.”

“I thought you were bulletproof.” Rex sneered.

“There were no damn bullets out there were there?” Bulletproof snarked back.

It was your first time seeing Bulletproof out of his suit, it was almost jarring to actually see his eyes and to see the angry expression he was making at Rex. You ignored their bickering and turned your attention to the long laceration up his arm. “How did you get this?” You questioned, examining it further while grabbing some saline solution and antiseptic they had in the kitchen.

“Damn thing grabbed me. It had these weird claws on its knuckles, wasn’t pleasant I can tell you that.” His gaze dropped to the bottles in your hands. “You need that?”

It came across as a little rude, probably unintentionally so, but you felt yourself bristle a little. “If I purify it before healing it, I won’t have to use as much energy to make sure that your body cleanses itself from the inside.”

“Does it take a lot of energy to heal someone?” He seemed to be genuinely interested, and you felt your souring mood instantly fade away.

You pulled a chair up in front of him, sitting down with your knees almost touching. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rex tense a little. He probably thought he was entitled to go first, but you were working your way down into the smaller injuries. And besides the cuts he received from saving you, he wasn’t doing too badly.

You began to clear any debris from the gash and used a saline wash to clean it up. “It depends on the injury. A gash like this will probably take a pretty large amount of effort to heal, whereas Rex’s little scratches will take significantly less.”

“The fact I only have a few little scratches I think speaks to how awesome of a hero I am.” Rex leaned against the kitchen wall, a proud smirk on his face.

“Or it goes to show how unhelpful you are. How you hardly get in the real fights.” Bulletproof retorted.

“Look here dickhead, just because I am able to do just as much as you can without being able to fly and without getting hurt doesn’t mean-“

“Oh god please just shut up.” Amanda groaned from her place at the table, Rae sat next to her with her head resting on her arms.

“What’s even wrong with you? You look perfectly fine.” Rex focused his animosity on Amanda now, tilting his head.

“Nothing asshole, maybe I just want to be here for my teammates.” She spat back.

“We don’t need you here pitying us-” Rex started, stepping forward with an antagonistic finger pointed in her direction.

“I want her here.” You said simply, not bothering to look up from your work. A soft snicker escaped Rae but she didn’t lift her head at all either. You were getting a little worried about her, during your brief examination of them all she was showing signs of a concussion, but Bulletproof was losing blood. Even though he still seemed to have the energy to argue with Rex.

Rex hmphed loudly but didn’t continue, he recrossed his arms and rested his back against the wall once again.

“At least one of you has good tastes in company.” Amanda says, which makes you sigh because you know the arguing is about to start up again from this. Like bickering children.

You put down the bottles and grip the overside of Bulletproof’s forearm closing your eyes in concentration. Amanda leans forward slightly in her chair, her eyes wide as she analyzes what you are doing. The abrasion began to mend before their eyes, as if in reverse. Bulletproof grimaced quietly, a stark contrast to Rex’s outburst when you had healed him the first time. The sound of him shifting behind you told you he was reliving the same memory.

You glanced back for a moment, and his eyes immediately locked with yours. He maintained your gaze for a moment before looking away, his folded arms tightening slightly over his chest.

Odd.

You looked back at your work, focusing more on it. The wound was stitching itself organically. Any blood that was being pushed to the surface immediately sank back into the tissue until it was mended completely.

“It’s like it never happened.” Amanda stated, awe clear in her voice. “Pretty cool party trick.”

“But a party trick nonetheless.” Rex immediately interjected. You were getting tired of his whiplash, every time you thought you were both past frivolous insults, he always managed to input another. What an asshole.

You shook your head slightly, the headache was setting in strongly against you. It felt like miniature icepicks were taking turns going in and out at the base of your skull. Nothing new, but you were feeling your tolerance for the bickering begin the melt away.

“Seriously Rex?” Bulletproof responded.

“Why are you here Rex? You here to get healed for your little boo-boos?” Amanda’s tone was laced with the annoyance you decided to keep to yourself.

“Maybe I just want to be here for my teammates.” He said in a mocking tone, repeating Amanda’s earlier sentiment.

“You’re such a child.” Amanda spat.

“Look who’s talking!” Rex retorted.

“Thank you.” Bulletproof said to you, breaking your concentration from the once again oncoming fight.

“You’re welcome Zandale.” You said quietly in response, giving him a tired smile. He stood up, turning his arm a few times while looking over your handy work. He gave a silent nod and then went to leave, giving Rex a nasty look before exiting the kitchen.

Bulletproof’s exit left enough silence for you to turn your attention to Rae who was still laying her head on her arms.

“Rae, come here Hun.” You patted the seat and after a moment she looked up and bobbed her head. She clumsily made her way over staggering slightly to the right on her way over. She seemed to be getting worse as the day was going on, earlier she seemed almost fine. The adrenaline of their earlier battle was probably wearing off. As she sat down you placed your hand on her forearm, preparing to mentally check her. She was wearing a green and grey striped t-shirt; it was cute how everyone seemed more likely to wear the color scheme of their suits even when in their street clothes.

“Your hands are cold.” Rae stated, as she slurred just a little at the end of it, a telltale sign of some sort of brain damage.

“I know.” You responded gently. Her hair was still wet, dripping down her shirt leaving little streaks. “Can you tell me what your name is?” You were resorting to asking her questions, determined to conserve as much energy as possible as your head was killing you already. You wanted to be sure it was most likely a concussion before interfacing with her.

“You don’t know my name?” She frowned at this.

“I know your name.” You reassure, “I just need to hear you say it.”

“What is the point of this?” Rex’s sounds off again, which you consider ignoring, but you figure that will just edge him on.

“I’m checking for a concussion.”

“Can’t you just…I don’t know, tell?” He scoffs.

“The more time I spend determining what the extent of her injuries are, the more energy I burn off. If I can determine the core issue it is much easier to go from there.”

“Stop bothering her Rex.” Amanda glares at him.

“Your name?” You return your attention back to Rae.

“Rachel.” You actually had not known this was her name, so you looked at Amanda to confirm, who simply shrugged, clearly also not having known.

“And your last name?”

“My last name?”

“Yes.” You nodded. She didn’t immediately respond, her gaze wandering over the kitchen.

“Rachel.”

“Where are you right now Rachel?”

“The kitchen.” She looked over at the sink area, clearly taking cues from her surroundings rather than from her inner knowledge.

“The kitchen where?”

She remained silent at this, giving you a look like you had just asked her to do a backflip.

“Okay, Rae, do you know who I am?”

She nodded and gave a smile, immediately saying your name. “Well, that’s good.” You smiled at her. “I was getting a little nervous.” You closed your eyes and focused on the inferior parietal lobule as well as the hippocampus. The brain is a delicate organ, it takes a lot of focus to make sure that you do not accidentally do more damage than good. One small hiccup and you could leave her paralyzed or dead.

Luckily Rex remains quiet for this, and after a few minutes you see Rae’s brow relax, and as far as you can feel her cognitive functions should be back to normal.

“What is your name?” You ask, rubbing one of your eyes with the heel of your palm, willing away the shredding pain behind your eyes. You’re not too far yet though, you weren’t doing too shabby. And Donald dared to doubt you.

“Rae.” She said with a smile, sitting up straighter.

“Full name.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Well, she seemed fine now. You stretched, a wave of exhaustion falling over you. Soon you’d need to sleep this all off, it had been an extremely long day. “Amanda, can you make sure Rae gets back to her room? Right now, she’s feeling good because of the aftereffects, but once the usual aches set in it’ll hit like a truck.”

“Sure, why not.” Amanda stands up, heading to the door and holding it open for Rae.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?” You give Rae a pat on the arm you had just been holding on to.

“Next time drinks are on me.” Rae says, standing up with a little spring in her step.

“I’m sure you’ll bring them but somehow I doubt you’ll pay for them.” You tease back, which earns her giving you a shushing gesture before leaving with Amanda.

“Bye Rex.” She says with a glint in her eyes before disappearing out the door. Even with it closed behind them you can hear them both laughing loudly. Who knows why.

“Rather chipper.” Rex states sourly.

“It’ll wear off, you would know.” You lean back in the chair, rubbing the back of your neck.

It was now just the two of you. Hopefully, it would be quick, you were exhausted and in pain.

“Are you going to sit down Rex?” You cocked your head at him, crossing your leg over the other.

“No.”

“Are you going to stand over there like a creep until I feel so uncomfortable I leave?”

“It’s a free fucking country.”

“Well in that case I think I’ll be going-” You uncrossed your legs, putting your hands on your knees to stand up, only to hear him sigh and watch him sit in the chair in front of you. “Or not…I suppose.” You relaxed back into your chair, making no move to heal him. If you were being fully honest you weren’t sure that his minimal injuries were something that concerned you right now. You weren’t sure how much juice you had in you.

“So that fuzzy thing, after healing, that is a side effect of your abilities.” It’s a statement he’s trying to make, not a question.

“I’ve heard it can be. I don’t experience the same effect, so I am not sure.”

“But that is what Rae was feeling right?”

“I don’t know Rex, why don’t you ask her tomorrow?” You sigh softly.

“Why are you so secretive?” He accuses suddenly, a completely different tone entering his voice.

“What?” You sit up slightly at this.

“Access to our files, somehow being able to run missions alone, your little relationship with Cecil. What am I missing?”

“Can I not just be good company?” You furrow your brow at him, tensing slightly.

“No, not to Cecil.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Rex. I don’t do my job, you’re not happy, I do my job, you’re not happy.” You sit forward slightly. “You tell me you don’t dislike me, you save my ass out in the field, and then you talk shit about me to my face and consistently complain about me.”

Rex’s jaw tightens at this, but he doesn’t say anything immediately in response.

“What can I do Rex? What can I do to make you stop hating me so much huh?” Your frustration is growing by the minute, and you can almost swear your headache is getting worse alongside it. “You want me to quit? Fine, I could quit, but I don’t think that would solve it, would it? You would continue hating me until you forgot about my existence, and maybe not even then.” You stand up promptly, your chair screeching against the floor at the sudden movement. “I think you would grow old and hear the mention of my name, and only know you recognized it by the bitter taste in your mouth.” Your words are coming out harsher than you usually would let them, but you can’t find it in you to care. “You are miserable Rex, and I think that misery will follow you until the day you die.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” He says surprisingly calm, he’s still sitting, and his head is cocked upwards to look at you. His green eyes look darker than normal, and his jaw is ridged.

“You’re my fucking problem Rex!” You run your hands through your hair, stopping with them covering your face for a brief instant. You take a slow breath trying to regain composure. “Do you receive some kind of joy by being the only Guardian left fighting my presence?”

“I’m not the only one-”

“You’re the only one doing it outwardly! At least with the others, they have the decency to do it behind my back!” You took a few steps away, drumming your fingers on the countertop. After a silent, tense few seconds, you turn back around to continue your point only to see he is right behind you. Your back hits the edge of the counter as you try to step back, effectively trapping you.

“I don’t trust you.” He says through gritted teeth, his dark gaze resting on your face.

“Anyone can tell that much.” You respond back immediately.

“You and Cecil are hiding something; I just can’t prove it yet.”

“Are you always this suspicious of new hires?” You squint at him, your voice low.

“Maybe, when it is necessary.”

“Shapesmith is clearly an alien of some sort and you’re more worried about me, why? If you are really so determined to maintain the Guardians, then why aren’t you giving him as much shit as you are me?”

“Maybe I don’t see him as a threat.” Rex’s voice was low, and he was alarmingly close.

“And I am?” You try not to laugh. “An alien versus someone whose power is healing?”

“Is it?”

Your blood runs a little cold at this. How much did he really know? Was he simply baiting you? At this point, you couldn’t tell, and his close proximity was not making it easier.

“Did you want me to heal your scratch or not?” You finally rasp, your eyes dropping to the long gash on his jawline.

“Why would I want that?”

“Chasing that fuzzy feeling?”

“And everyone gets that?” You’re pleased he seems so easily deterred from his previous question.

“So I am told.” Before you think better of it your hand comes up to the side of his face, your fingers tracing over the wound. He doesn’t immediately back away or really have any reaction. He seems ridged. As if he were willing to stay exactly still. After the first swipe of your fingertip you restarted, the pad of your index finger making contact with the upper portion of the scratch. As you swiped down it mended, leaving his skin completely unharmed. Soft and golden. He let out a slow, controlled breath, his eyes were drilling into your face. “There, now it is like you never even saved me.” You say sourly.

“That was only one of the cuts from that ordeal.” He breathes, and for a moment you are sure you feel the atmosphere between you shift. The tension is less fueled by anger and irritation but now it is fueled by something else.

You blink a few times coming up with a response, but before you can think of one, you’re thoughts are interrupted.

“Are you okay?” genuine concern laced his voice.

“What do you mean?” You give him a weird look, and then you hear a voice over your earpiece.

“Brain wave levels are showing a spike, possible episode incoming.” It is a voice you don’t recognize, most likely one of Cecil’s agents.

“Shit!” You exclaim, putting a hand up to your upper lip. You pull your hand back but don’t see any blood. You wipe under your eye and instantaneously you feel the moisture. Pulling your hand back you see it, blood spread over the side of your index finger. “Shit, shit, shit.” You try to focus on breathing. This is not a good time.

Maybe it’s not real. You had not recognized the voice, and usually, your nose bleeds first. Maybe this is like that episode you had after your shower a few weeks ago. “Do you see this?” Panic is laced in your voice unintentionally; you hold your bloodied hand out to Rex.

“What-”

“Rex, do you see it?!” You repeat louder.

“Yes-”

“Rex!”

“Fuck Joy- yes I see it, what is happening?”

The metallic taste begins to fill your mouth, as you feel an oncoming heave working its way up your throat. The trash is too high, once you lose the use of your legs you will pull it down with you. You push past Rex to enter the kitchen, ripping open the cabinets in search of a bucket.

“Joy, what do I do?”

Blood is filling your mouth, and you can hardly hear him, a quick touch to your ear shows that you’re starting to lose blood there too. Finally, you locate what must be a mop bucket and fall to your knees. Your body fights itself, attempting to heal the abrasions you likely now have there too.

You begin to retch into the bucket, crimson blood quickly working to fill it, your eyes blur red as more seeps out of your tear ducts.

Hands come from somewhere behind you, pulling your hair back. A nice gesture, but it was not much use. In a few moments you would be completely out, and the blood would continue to leak out of you regardless.

“Robot! Robo- Rudy help me! Rudy!” Rex’s desperate pleas are drowned out by your gagging, and soon you start to feel your grip on consciousness loosening until you don’t remember what happened next.

Author's Note: This one goes out to the people who were upset we yelled at Donald, you all were heard. After almost one month of writing were nearly at 40k words and up to chapter one, I am so excited

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101

#rex splode x reader #enemies to lovers #slow burn #invincible season 3 #invincible rex splode #invincible #rex sloan #rex splode #rex sloan x reader #no beta we die like rex splode apparently #no use of y/n #rex splode fanfic #fanfic #crawling back to you rexfic #shrinking rae #bulletproof

42 notes · View notes

eugenedebs1920 · 2 days ago

Text

The balance has been thrown off kilter. The representation is not equal to the constituency. The lust for power has surpassed the duty to protect the Constitution, defend democratic principles, or adhere to the wishes of the people. This has dire implications. This doesn’t just give the illusion of government reflecting the will of the people, it shows the blatant disregard for it.

I’m a liberal. My values are that of equality, that people should feel free to express themselves how they please, love who they want to love, have control of their own bodies. I believe that government is there for the benefit and betterment of society, that government is not that which restricts liberty, but that which enshrines it. I believe that no one is better than anyone else, that the working class should make a living wage, that corporations and the wealthy should pay just as high of a tax rate as a teacher, that leaving this country, and this world in better condition than how we found it, both socially and environmentally, should be a top priority, that science is real, and objective reality is that in which we live, that religion should not dictate policy, nor be forced upon anyone.

This nation hasn’t been this divided in decades. Between the rise of the right wing propaganda apparatus, the unchecked, undiagnosed racism that the Obama years pulled to the surface, the shocking victory of a polarizing, 2nd rate reality tv personality, who brought with him to the oval office not only incompetence doused in narcissism, but not so silent cries of a discriminatory dog whistle.

The absolute failure during the covid pandemic brought the attention of those who would normally not have much political engagement into plain sight. The refusal to listen to scientists and doctors. The stubborn, asinine objections to the simple suggestion of masks. The skepticism of vaccines whose efficacy and safety have been long established. The projection, scapegoating, finger pointing, and denial of objective reality trump exuded was his downfall.

The 2020 election, despite the assertions of fraud and corruption, was found to be, by trumps own cabinet, as well as an independent investigator hired by the Trump campaign, the most secure and free from interference to date. When the “right” disputes the participation numbers, comparing them with previous elections, they would assert that millions and millions more votes were cast in that election than in others. There is a simple and obvious reason for this. Access and ease of participation.

A lot of us were on lockdown in fall of 2020 (not myself, I was an “essential worker” which sounds a whole lot like expendable asset) many were working from home, or unable to work. In the midst of all this was the general election. With social distancing protocols, and suggested limited interactions between people, the public was mailed their ballots, unburdening those who had found it taxiing to engage in their civic duty of democracy. When people were allowed to fill their ballots out with leisure, in their home, then mail their decision out, the participation rate skyrocketed.

This next bit is relatively unrelated but. The 2020 election saw the highest percentage of eligible voters cast ballots, at 62.8%, since the 1968 elections, the average participation rate being between 49%-57% since (shame shame on those not civically engaging). All this voter fraud talk, and non citizen voting is complete fabrication. Even the ultra far right Heritage Foundations investigations found minuscule cases of “suspected fraud” the percentage of these suspected cases being 0.0001%. These pushes for voter integrity, or to secure our elections are simple attempts to disenfranchise voters, a campaign of legalized voter suppression, don’t be fooled.

The fact of the matter is, in this science based world, where the questions of old have been answered, society is more open minded and tolerant, those clinging to the legitimacy of their discredited, fantastical religious dogma, acting in ways in such contrast to the scripture they preach, find themselves losing relevance, and in turn, losing power. So as to retain power the tactics are to cheat and rig the system to where minorities, the working poor, urban voters, women, and the youth will find it difficult to carry out their civic responsibility of voting. This is not a denouncement of spirituality or religion overall, it is a calling out of those who use religion as a sword and a shield to carry out their highly immoral behavior.

I digress…

The pendulum swing from the Obama years, combined with the, to put it nicely, unconventional and divisive rhetoric of the 2016 Trump campaign and subsequent administration has polarized the United States to levels not experienced in many of our lifetimes.

Then there’s the lies. Lie after lie after lie. With special counsel to President, Kellyanne Conway telling a reporter that the fabrications coming from the White House weren’t lies they were “alternative facts”. Post Trump’s presidency an independent analysis counts that Trump had lied, misled, and altered the truth more than 36,000 times. Thats just the first run.

Then you have the propaganda and propagandist. Institutions like Fox News, OAN, and Newsmax, so disattached from objective reality that Fox and Newsmax were held to accountability for their deception to the tune of almost $2 billion. Many of the smaller independent right wing media and podcasters were found to have “unknowingly” taken money from Russian state television and given a list of talking points to spread on the right in order to sew discourse between Americans and distort reality.

Say all you will about the “fake news”, or legacy media, the mainstream media, like they’re profit driven cowards, you could say they’re corporate tools, one could even claim they’re milk toast media, too afraid of speaking truth to power on the chance it would offend their bottom line and upset the almighty messiah that is the capital stuffing their fat pockets. CNN, CBS, ABC, NBC, or MSNBC, although some may show an apparent bias towards Democratic ideals, and receive their talking points from corporate overlords, they were not instructed by the Kremlin to divide America.

On the first amendment. In this country you are free to believe and say what you please. Yet some have exploited this endowment granted in the Bill of rights to collapse and crumble an essential pier of a free society bestowed in said amendment. An independent, free, and credible press. Sadly it’s one thing when the president says things like, Jan 6th was a day of love, or Haitian immigrants are eating pets, ect, it’s another to present yourself as a purveyor of factual information, convincing your audience of such, and feeding them an alternate reality. It sews division and animosity, one side consuming lies as truth.

Moving on.

On the left, a well meaning, and justified movement, of holding those who would prey on women without consent accountable for their actions, transformed from the righteous and long overdue pursuit of justice, into a culture of censorship if others opinions offended, or were in contrast to those who held their own ideals as law. The cancel culture had began.

This cancel culture would deny controversial speakers from freely expressing their opinions in universities and at events across the country, it would shame and accost speech or views contentious to their perception, the fight for social justice became eerily similar to that which they opposed, fascist thought police.

The thing about freedoms, rights and liberty is that it must be enjoyed by all to be enjoyed by any. Personally I find Nazis and racism, discrimination, disgusting and unacceptable, yet those pathetic bigots have to be granted the same privileges of free speech as non ignorant citizens of a free society for that right to be given to society as a whole. It doesn’t mean one would have to go along with it, it doesn’t mean one can’t oppose or combat it, it doesn’t mean that Nazis don’t deserve what they get for openly supporting it. It means they have a right to say and express it.

Another unforeseen consequence of stifling viewpoints which may be contradictory to one’s self, offensive or controversial is the limitations of one’s personal growth. By denying and sheltering debate of that which you find fundamentally wrong or that goes in opposition to that which you believe, it causes one’s perspective to become rigid and narrow, unwittingly being that which you decried as intolerant.

The backlash to this, and to the nations first president of color, was the inception of an opposition party with very vibrant tones of racial intolerance. The T.E.A. (Taxed enough already) Party would bust on the scene as a far right movement, raising havoc at town halls and throwing rallies in nearly every state. All this would be perfectly acceptable and even welcomed, but there was an unsettling theme. Rally goers would brandish signs refuting Obama’s citizenship, signs that read, “a village in Kenya is missing its idiot”, some that referenced slavery even some using the N word.

Along with this not so subtle display of racism, Republicans were questioning Barak Obama’s eligibility to hold the office of president as well. His foreign sounding name, and the pigmentation of his skin, prompted some to call for Obama to prove his citizenship, asking to see his birth certificate. Even upon the release of his birth certificate, the skepticism lingered heavy in the atmosphere of general discourse on the right.

One of these voices was a crude, frankly vulgar, insulting, failed businessman turned reality television personality, not particularly articulate or intelligent, but his crass style was relatable and entertaining, the trash that spewed from his mouth was unimaginable not 10 years prior. This was the rise of Donald Trump, who would go on to win the nomination for president as a Republican.

In a display of arrogance the Democratic Party, the only viable choice for progressive thinking liberals in the U.S., disregarded the support for its own unconventional candidate, a Jewish socialist, Bernie Sanders. Instead they nominated a candidate, sadly unconventional due to the sex, but about as establishment as it gets in Hilary Clinton.

Perhaps it’s the young age of the United States, or perhaps it’s just misogyny, but America, unlike much of the world, isn’t willing to elect a female to its highest office. Trump, an adjudicated sexual assailant and known adulterer, exudes misogyny, and sexism. His attacks on Clinton were relentless, unfounded, and inappropriate. In their debate he loomed over her like a caged animal, pacing back and forth. At the end of the day Trump’s victory was a shock, even to the Trump campaign.

The 2016 Trump administration started off slow, and bumbled their way forward. In February, just prior to the election, long time conservative Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia passed away. The sitting president is constitutionally obligated to replace any vacancy in the Supreme Court should it arise, but reptilian alien, turtle variant, Mitch McConnell had other plans.

McConnell popped his head out of his shell to make out of whole cloth, a rule that had never been instituted in the previous 240 some years of this nations existence, claiming that a “lame duck” president didn’t have the right to nominate a justice to the highest court in the land, blocking any attempt to appoint Obama’s nomination. That’s how Neil Gorsuch sits on the court today, and how Merik Garland was given the opportunity to fail the American people and the Constitution four years later.

Newton’s 3rd law it states that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If you push against the wall, the wall “pushes” back with the same force. The laws of physics can apply to society as well. When one force pushes, the same amount of force will push back.

In 2018 Justice Anthony Kennedy retired, giving Trump his second Supreme Court pick. Although Kennedy would be considered a conservative, he wasn’t stuck with a closed ideological view, and was often a swing vote for the more liberal justices on the court. The man chosen to replace him, and in which Trump instructed his FBI to forego any sort of extensive investigation, Brett Kavanaugh, who’s past, riddled with allegations of sexual assault and heavy drinking that should have been disqualifying, leaned much farther to the right that his predecessor. The balance of the court had shifted significantly.

In the hype of a global pandemic was the 2020 general election. Americans, and much of the world was in turmoil. People were dying in droves, the global economy was in shambles, commerce and shipping was at a halt, even the essentials like toilet paper was hard to ascertain, when on September 18, the liberal icon Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away, just 2 months before the 2020 election.

In a shameless move of outright staggering hypocrisy, majority leader, old freezeframe tortuga himself, Mitch McConnell moves at lightning speed, ramming through the confirmation of Trump’s 3rd Supreme Court pick, Amy Coney Barrott, creating a near supermajority, right wing court.

What does any of this recent history lesson have to do with polarization? Equal and opposite reactions.

What’s one of the first major rulings coming from this maga court? Rescinding Roe v Wade, stripping women of their bodily autonomy, to where their grandma had more rights than they did. This court has drastically set environmental standards back, it has weakened labor rights, taken authority over experts in their fields of science, it has removed voting protections, protected weapons of war for any civilian, and in the most revolting show of partisanship and an absurd interpretation of the our Constitution, it gave immunity to the executive branch regarding crimes committed as president of the United States.

Still. How is this relevant to the division in our nation?

I try, with great effort, to emphasize, relate and understand the current “conservative”, slash, right wing perspective. From my perspective, what they say, and what they do, or their voting record, are vastly different things.

They claim they’re for the working class yet stack their administrations with billionaires. They enact tariffs that get passed down to the consumer, raising the price of goods ever higher. They continually vote against raising the minimum wage, against collective bargaining, against protections from hazardous materials, against paid family leave and sick leave, against guaranteed overtime. Yet they vote for restricting lawsuits against corporations. How does that benefit the working class?

They claim to be pro family, pro life. Yet they vote to slash nutritional assistance benefits, they vote to eliminate the Department of education and head start programs, they vote against the child tax credit, they vote to eliminate consumer protection agencies like the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and the FCC. They vote to eliminate price caps on pharmaceuticals, to slash Medicare and Medicaid, against universal childcare. How does that benefit families?

They claim to be fiscally responsible and good for the economy. Yet 10 of the last 11 recessions have been under Republican administrations. The first Trump administration added a quarter of the OVERALL debt we’ve accrued. They cut taxes for the wealthy and for corporations, yet our tax rate has risen to nearly 40%, offloading the fiscal burden onto the working class. How is that fiscally responsible?

They claim to be for the first amendment but they want the Bible in public schools. They claim to be pro free speech, but threaten universities. They have vilified the press, arrested and deported protesters, they burn and ban books. How is that pro first amendment?

The most obvious example of what is now the Republican Party, but can be categorized as conservative, (although I’m not sure exactly what they’re conserving) or the right wing exuding utter disdain for this country, the rule of law, and the constitution. Their constant assault on the foundation of this republic, votes.

Since the birth of the democratic system, where the people choose their governance through casting a vote there have been those who would seek to sway the odds in their favor. There are numerous ways in which to to this, buying votes with favor or capital, intimidation, fraud, having influence over those who count the votes, but the one most commonly used in the United States is simple voter suppression.

There are several ways to carry out this suppression, even to a point where the act is difficult to notice. After emancipation black Americans were a predominate target. White election officials would enact a poll tax that many could not afford, they had literacy tests, they would insist that they name council members or representatives in full, now it is more prevalently undertaken by adding obstacles and restrictions, making it harder to register, unnecessary documentation, proof of citizenship.

We all want free and fair elections. I think we’d all agree that only American citizens should be allowed to vote in American elections. I can’t tell you how many times I tried explaining this during the most recent election. People will say, ‘You should have to show ID in order to vote!’, the thing is, you do.

In all states, in order to get a drivers license, drivers permit, or state issued identification you have to show your birth certificate. In order to register to vote you have to show an ID when you register. I guess I was unaware that the Department of Redundancy Department was so involved in the electoral process. Migrants and those residing in the U.S. legally are required to possess United States identification from the state they’re in but the number on your state license is linked to your Social Security number which is tied to your birth certificate, which those not born in the U.S. are not in possession of.

The penalties for voter fraud and non citizen voting citizen voting are severe. The act is a federal crime punishable by up to 5 years in prison, fines exceeding $5,000, both civil and criminal charges can be filed, and those who aren’t United States citizens can be deported. Seems like the juice ain’t worth the squeeze to cast a single ballot amongst 150 million votes.

The Republican (right wing/conservative) led House of Representatives just recently passed the SAVE Act requiring a birth certificate or passport, not accepting a state drivers license (ID). Approximately 146 million Americans are without a passport, to put that in perspective 153 million Americans voted in the 2024 presidential election. This would exponentially impact those in the middle middle class, lower middle class, and the working poor. Statistics show that 1 in 5 Americans making less than $50k a year have a passport.

This bill will disenfranchise nearly every woman who has taken their spouses last name as the bill makes no mention of a marriage license or change of name documentation, and if your name on your birth certificate doesn’t match that of your ID then you’re unable to verify.

The bill would void the use of military ID’s as acceptable documentation to register to vote, or cast a ballot. Our men and women who serve our country are often moved from various bases here at home, and many serve abroad, making state issued identification (not that that would suffice anyway) unnecessary or just redundant. Disenfranchising those who fight for our freedom is beyond unamerican.

The Get Out The Vote (GOTV) registration drives are prohibited under the SAVE Act as well. The bill would deny the use of online registration and mail in registration, forcing citizens who wish to register to go in person to their local agencies in order to register.

Voter fraud and non citizen voting is extremely rare, with statistics showing you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than for fraud or non authorized votes to be cast in our elections. The ultra conservative Heritage Foundation claimed to have identified prior to the 2024 election over 1,100 suspected fraudulent votes, yet in fact Only 105 cases come within the past five years,and 488 within the past 10 years. Thirty-two cases are from the 1980s and 1990s. Indicative of its overreach, the database even includes a case from 1948 (when Harry S. Truman beatThomas Dewey) and a case from 1972. In that time frame there have been over 3 BILLION votes cast. It’s a solution looking for a problem and disenfranchising millions of American voters in the process.

This is a blatant attempt to limit voter turnout, particularly those in a lower, or middle, socioeconomic bracket.

I have an idea! Instead of suppressing voter eligibility and participation, how bout enacting policies and laws that benefit the majority of the people? Or maybe they could look out for and protect the largest voting block, the middle class and working poor, instead of cutting Medicare and Medicaid, lowering and trying to eliminate social security benefits, dissolving agencies enacted to protect consumers and workers and giving tax breaks to billionaires and corporations. Meet their desired population with that in which the population desires.

We would all benefit from both parties being strong and possessing conviction. A healthy democracy is nourished through the diplomatic exchange of ideas. Compromise and bipartisan give rise to policy that is more robust and well rounded. Debate bolsters the power of thought.

This current system of obstructionism and hostility only serves those looking for publicity. These people are hired by us to do a job, and that job is to work together for the good of America and its people. We cannot ride a bike missing a wheel. The sycophancy and allegiance to a person and not to the Constitution or the constituency they represent shows a sharp decline in the values of governance.

This nation needs grounded in truth, not falsehoods. It needs bolstered with integrity, not capitulation. We need leaders who project honor, not arrogance. We have to remember, whether liberal or conservative, traditional or progressive, Republican or Democrat, the verb United that so proudly brandishes our nations title involves more than vague admiration. It requires participation, cooperation, civility and respect. For we may not be kin by blood, but it is our shared bond that makes us kin.

28 notes · View notes

maybeafrog-blog · 2 days ago

Text

This is an apothecary diaries blog now

New hyperfixation unlocked! Unfortunately this show does not have decades of content to consume (lookin at you Turtles) and I don't wanna read the light novel until the rest of season 2 is out so now I'm out here just. thinking.

Anyway, thinking about how Jinshi would have been what, 15??? when he got his job as being Resident Sexy Eunuch? was that the emperor's intention from the beginning? since he's abandoning the responsibilities of his status is he being saddled with responsibilities he has to handle with his beauty, his only other asset, as far as Jinshi is concerned? Like, eugh.

This whole scene and situation rly gets me. Did Gaoshun and Suiren have to explain this sort of risk to him at some point? How much is learned from uncomfortable situations? He's such an interesting foil to Maomao-- She's at greater risk, given her class and build, but has the freedom to take measures against it with her appearance and attitude. Jinshi effectively has a responsibility to put himself in harm's way. He has to commit fully to his image when performing as Jinshi, regardless of who he's engaging with.

^^ For example-- we know that this is pretty much a lie. It would be a problem if he ate it, from the softshell turtle scene in season 2. I mean, he is familiar with alcohol, but he's also attempting to cultivate his image as indulgent, sensual, etc. Here it's directed at Maomao, so it's not like it's working the way he intends, but he has successfully given her an impression that he's Actively Pursuing Sexual Relationships, to the point where he's willing to push past boundaries of consent and so on.

Like, it doesn't seem to BOTHER him, exactly. He's GOOD at it. It's in pursuit of a goal. But he gets attached to Maomao SO fast, and pushes way past her boundaries in order to interact with someone who he doesn't really have to worry about pushing HIS boundaries. Maomao's own mask (her role as servant, which is thin but stops her from doing a LOT) drops the fastest when she's Visibly Disgusted, it's the fastest he can get an honest reaction out of anybody. Over time he realizes that he can also get her to drop the mask by essentially giving her permission to go apeshit (Crystal Pavilion Canon Event), or by giving her access and freedom to work with drugs and poisons. It's a bit more complicated than his usual manipulation tactics, but more rewarding, given Maomao's Abundant Usefulness when motivated and also the opportunity for honesty.

I think that this probably leads to him going as far as he does in the frog scene. He's trying so hard to be honest with Maomao and she is INSISTING on keeping the masks on. I think like, yea, he's in love with this freak, he wants her to know that, but also at this point Maomao would normally crack and give him the Glare of Disgust, but this is so much more honest, and it's really the fakeness that disgusts her, plus there's the power dynamic and the fact that they're stuck in a cave and so on. Her honest reaction is to be conflicted, and all he's accomplished is overstepping. He gives her the ox bezoar, gets the honest Maomao he was looking for, and doesn't get to tell her everything.

Anyway, take this all with many grains of salt, I am very anime only still and also usually wrong about stuff. Just vaguely eh towards black and white (gross or romantic) takes on Jinshi when he's way more nuanced than either of those.

#apothecary diaries #the apothecary diaries #jinshi #I want to study him #like a speciment

32 notes · View notes

bitterrobin · 2 days ago

Text

Part 1 of analysis on the Batman & Son/Three Batmen arc that no one asked for, bc I'm writing a fic using it and I'm using this website as a public notes app. Basically me making observations and notes on what to emphasize when I write, so it's not very cohesive outside Damian & his interactions w/ Tim and Bruce.

Long Post Ahead:

Starting with of course, Damian's introduction arc. I guess this would technically be considered spoilers for GRAVEYARD, but I feel enough of what I've written so far is contained in Damian's mind a lot/shifted just a bit from canon to not be too obvious.

WRT Post-Crisis, Damian’s first introduction under Morrison implies that Damian didn’t know what Batman/Robin did, and especially after learning - he thought it was ridiculous, something to scoff at.

Prior to this, we don't really get an indication that Morrison-Talia told Damian what Batman did. We can assume he knows Batman as a concept, as he's not very surprised to see his estranged father in a bat costume, nor does he regard the Batcave as something weird.

I feel like I should stress wrt Robin, that Damian did not attack Tim just because the boy was Robin -- he attacked Tim because he (rightfully) perceived Tim as Bruce's son, the son that Damian wasn't. It can also be assumed with how abrasive and bratty that Morrison wrote Damian, that he attacked Tim as a sort of tantrum (turned up to 12 w exaggerated comic book panache), with Tim having (unintentionally) annoyed Damian earlier in the day.

It's also very important to note that Morrison wrote Tim as fairly normal...and as far as I know, in-character. He's a little condescending with the "here in my world, we call this a handshake" line (but that's more likely Tim attempting a joke that doesn't land, which Damian takes as patronizing). Otherwise, he's shown interacting with Damian as nicely as possible and talking to Bruce about his gripes with the sudden situation.

Tim gives Damian the benefit of the doubt, then unfortunately that doubt is massively proven through Damian killing and beheading a minor villain.

Fandom tends to blow their "fight" out of proportion as a mutual slug-fest or as Tim getting the shit beaten out of him. But in the comic, Tim is mostly on the defensive (holding his own, not really getting hurt) as Damian is attacking him, doesn't strike back, and even saves him from the T-Rex in the cave before it can injure him. And that was after the aforementioned scene of Damian pulling about a bloody key and Tim making an ominous assumption about Alfred's status as alive/dead.

Tim sits down to talk with him, and Damian gives him pretty much the exact reason why he's so aggressive. It's laid out right there for the reader. (Not to get too meta, but the comics actually give both Tim and Damian leeway on both their "sides." It's the fandom that generally exaggerates Damian's violence/Tim's reaction.) Anyway, Damian hits Tim hard enough that he falls, steals a Robin costume (notably not any of Tim's considering the black/red color scheme he then had), and Bruce finds out about everything.

IMO, a lot of Damian's actions can be explained through his POV as his limits getting pushed/buttons being pressed. He's 10 years old -- dropped by his manipulative mother to a father he doesn't know, realizes that father has another son older than him and treated better (presumably, in his eyes), put in a room with a password lock (which has implications), yelled at (explicitly told that his father has expectations of him, that he'll be tested until he can prove something) and then he decides to do something about it. Be proactive. He decides to kill the Spook and "prove" his worth, he fights Tim and "proves" his "deserved" place as his father's son, and takes a Robin costume to further that point.

Of course, he then learns that Bruce doesn't and will never appreciate those actions. Everything Damian just did was for nothing, almost, and he's brought right back where he started to his mother -- who then says that she intended for him to only be a distraction the whole time. Damian is a toy, a tool to Talia, and a violent obstacle to Bruce.

This is why I insist that Damian here, isn't really a character yet, he's a glorified plot device that Bruce/Tim have to get around for a couple issues.

Skipping way ahead in the plot, I wanted to highlight this piece of dialogue:

"I'm giving both of you a second chance you don't deserve." Wow. Morrison's characterization of Bruce in this arc (and frankly, his whole run) gives me whiplash. Morrison-Talia aside --- to Damian, hearing this must've been devastating on top of everything else. It's a throwaway line, like Dick's in Resurrection of Ras al Ghul where he snarks to Tim that saving Damian's life "makes us feel better about ourselves" that has a certain bite to it - and then is quickly ignored by the plot.

As I've posted before, Damian's aggression and mistrust is not without cause, he's not fighting people because he just an evil little kid. We know, as readers, that Bruce is rightfully angry about Talia's machinations and Damian hurting Tim/Alfred (and that Dick was only making another of his many jokes) but Damian doesn't. Even if he doesn't immediately say or do anything about what they say, he most likely internalizes it.

Still, he says this. Morrison of course, projecting Peak Divorced Child onto Damian's character --- but I like to think that Damian genuinely meant it. He just wants his parents together, like a child would, even if neither of those parents seemingly like him, or want what's best for him in a rational way? (Talia's just using him here, Bruce apparently is fine with letting her.) Good thing to bring up with Damian btw, it's like that Lady Bird movie scene:

"I wish that you liked me" - "Of course I love you."

You can be someone's child, cherished in that way, but that doesn't necessarily mean your parents like and understand you as a person. While in (my fic) GRAVEYARD, this doesn't fully apply as Taxonomy AU!Talia is nothing like the Talia here -- Damian thinks that she doesn't fully like him and he believes that she's not going to ever understand who he is. (And frankly, there is always the notion haunting her that he's not a normal kid, her kid anymore - that she's worse off because she has to see what the League twisted Damian into. But that's a more meta analysis of her POV than I want to get into; how warped Talia's character became because of Damian existing in comics -- and something more for a diff. fic.)

Coming up on the end of the arc, it's kinda crazy how Talia and Damian were technically supposed to die. And Damian pretty much did, until he got the intense medical attention he got. Something to think about.

Ending the post here! Next time, I'll skip to Three Batmen, quickly go over it, and then just kinda jump around talking about Damian's POV of events happening.

#damian wayne #tim drake #bruce wayne #dc #dc meta #graveyard musings

25 notes · View notes

kykyonthemoon · 7 hours ago

Text

Floating Floraletter

and why it will always be my favorite!!!

‼️ This post contains spoilers for Caleb’s 5 star memory. Read at your own discretion.

‼️ These are just a few words from my perspective after reading the card. I'm aware that each person might have different views, and I'd love to hear from yours too. Please do share your thoughts.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

❀ At first, when I read the title of the card “Floating Floraleter”, I was a bit confused. The “floating” part is quite clear because it refers to Caleb’s boat, Evol (which he uses to make the flowers and MC float). And “Floraleter”? It must be a combination of “floral” and “letter” but I don’t see any letter here. Turns out it’s in the card’s content. And it made me cry.

Since his time at the Academy in Skyhaven, Caleb wrote many letters to MC but didn’t send them. They were all very normal thoughts and reminders he had for her. Yet if she had received them during that time, it would mean that she would never be able to see him again.

Because all those letters were goodbyes that he wanted to say to MC, in case something unexpected happened and he couldn’t come back to her anymore.

All those letters reminded me of the Violet Evergarden episodes; when the mother asked Violet to write a letter to her daughter every year on her birthday because she couldn’t live anymore; or the letters without an address, stacked up at the post office… I felt like this part of the card, although only a few short lines, was enough to be my most favorite so far, because of the emotions it conveyed.

It wasn’t anything grand, it wasn’t anything big, or fancy. Just a few simple lines he sent back to the most important person in his life. It was enough, and sincere. That was all my heart needed.

❀ In addition to the letters that never reached MC, Caleb also kept her photos, and photos of both of them together. He kept them in the most important chip on his aircraft. So that when the time comes and he must go, her image will be the last thing he sees before leaving this world. 😌

❀ Loving a soldier, not only MC but also Caleb always have to face the possibility of never seeing each other again. Caleb states that he also wants to come back as much as MC wishes to see him again. Perhaps it is that small wish of both that makes them try every day, despite all the misunderstandings, the arguments, the distances... to finally truly return home - where each other is. They choose not to say goodbyes, but only hellos. So romantic yet painful at the same time. It makes me cherish peace more than ever, and at the same time remember that separation is inevitable in everyone's life. But if even the desolate land can still grow flowers and grass, then death is only temporary (as the church has taught me that).

❀ There are also some minor details that I probably won’t be able to name them all out here. I love the way MC trusts Caleb unconditionally. He tells her to jump, she does it without hesitation. Because she knows he will always catch her no matter what. I love the way they interact, tease, joke and caress each other. I also love the way MC appreciates him more, understands him and is more proactive with him. If in the previous cards (especially the normal ones) the way MC behaves didn't move me much, then in this card, she shows me the role of being Caleb’s trusted support. Although not much, it is a spark that I hope to see more of in the future.

Let me sum it up by what MC feels:

I know that no matter what happens, I’m just like him. We always yearn for our home and long to return to each other’s side.

#floating floraletter #caleb #love and deepspace #mahiru #xia yizhou #lnds #lads #l&ds #caleb x mc #love and deepspace caleb #kyky's diary of a deepspace hunter #lnds caleb #lads caleb #l&ds caleb

25 notes · View notes

fox-guardian · 3 days ago

Note

[[[Warning: Incoming gushing about your AU in your inbox that'll be long!!!]]] I love your "Cowabummer" comic, not just because it's super funny but also for the subtle characterization in it too! The fact that Anti-Curly doesn't address his longtime friend by name, but by his work title instead is very significant to me. Really hammers home just how much he prioritizes the occupation above the person for everyone on that ship, including himself. Not too sure if it was intentional either, but I LOVE how Anti-Curly and Canon-Jimmy value titles so much. Everyone's gotta be worth their titles and their titles are their worth~

Additionally, him spilling this very harrowing experience to Anti-Jimmy, maybe for the first time, feels like both a warning to him and a quiet cry for understanding from him, if that makes sense? Like Curly 'The Captain' is warning Jimmy, "That could be you if you don't toe the line", and Curly 'The Man' wants him to understand, "This is what changed me, can you see why? Why I'm like this? Why I have to be like this?" It's like Curly unconsciously wants both sides of himself to be recognized/seen by someone other than himself, even if he tries so hard to keep them both separate. Though I might be reading too much into it or interpreting it wrong!

Good lord tho Anti-Jimmy sweating bullets is so warranted omg... Your normally even-keel friend's suddenly acting like a cartoon character and talking about watching some guy die, like what can you even say to that really?? The whiplash he must be feeling like jeeeesus...

runs around my enclosure YEEHEEHEEHEE <3<3

You are Spot On about the titles thing, I was hoping someone would pick up on that <3 he's very big on titles ESPECIALLY for jimmy. After all, jimmy is still a part of his personal life, and he needs to keep those as separate as possible.

As far as the interaction itself, I will say it's not meant to be treated as part of the au's canon (it Is just a meme after all) but I Do like your analysis regardless, its a fun read on the dynamic!

I don't think curly would tell jimmy what he did, since while he did double down on it, it's still a very dark moment for him. He wouldn't deny it if someone else spilled the beans but he wouldn't bring it up on his own either.

Regardless jimmy is 2 seconds from browning his trousers that whole first week on the ship with him, yeah. The whiplash is crazy and he's found himself stuck in a tin can with a now unpredictable version of his friend. It doesn't take very long for him to find out what the spurs are for.

#fg's answers #asks #anti-tulpar au

27 notes · View notes

wolfertinger · 23 hours ago

Note

Yall need to stop being weird about paraphiles on here. Your disgust is not harm.

These people are causing real, material harm. Please quit focusing on their weird kinks and focus up. Look at who is being harmed (e.g. sawyer) and HELP THEM

i have stated before. i am not against, those that suffer from paraphilias. i am of the opinion however, from my PERSONAL experience. that calling yourself a paraphilic label, will do nothing but further push you into these spaces, where these things are normalized. the goal of a paraphile, should be to get better, and no longer interact/feel attracted, to harmful things. those actively calling themselves zoophiles, pedophiles, ect, and using symbols and communities to band together, does nothing but encourage the behavior.

"it is because the actual movement of healing from paraphilias, has been hijacked by bad faith actors, who try insisting that pedophilic/zoophilic/necrophilic/ect fantasies are completely normal. such as, ezra toonimal, who actively was grooming others into believing pro-contact anything was okay.

this may be controversial. but no. i do not believe everyone with paraphilic attractions, is a bad person. i think many of them are heavily traumatized individuals, that have been groomed into something they otherwise would never like, but their mind has associated with sex/sexuality. the difference between these people, and genuine bad people, is that paraphiliacs that GET HELP, and keep it PRIVATE, aka, not calling themselves by any paraphiliac label, are far more likely to later shake these paraphilias and experience a more normal relationship to sex/sexuality, than someone that is CONSTANTLY re engaging in what traumatized them. it is more like an act of self harm, that feels good to engage in, rather than taking the steps to heal past it, which is difficult and uncomfortable.

i do not think we should demonize people, for thoughts they cannot control. people cannot help, if they have been traumatized or made to think a specific way, and are trying to be better. your thoughts do not make you evil. your actions do."

#i am not a mental health professional. i am a victim of attempts to groom me into certain things.#i luckily. caught these behaviors early on. and prevented what could have been so much worse. but still scarred me for life.#i take this VERY seriously. for a reason.

16 notes · View notes

dammit-tazmuir · 1 day ago

Note

Man... I wasn't even considering time travel, intentionally, though yeah I'd trust Tamsyn with it too if it went that way. All I've been saying is more like... If we imagine Time as one continuous string, and it should normally just stretch out straight, it feels like the string in the TLT universe right now has a lot of places where it's tangled and knotted, places where a bit has been cut and poorly tied or burned or glued back together, places where it loops back on itself. Things like the lobotomy being 9 months 29 days ago, and weeks later the trip to the Mithraem being 9 months ago, and days after that Gideon attacking Harrow in the kitchen being 10 months ago, in that order. And the fact that Harrow took weeks to recover from the lobotomy, such that it was 9 months if not slightly less by the time she left the Erebos, but then G1deon said Varun would be there in just under 10 months, etc.

It just feels like it's Not Flowing Correctly, and that John has some ability to manipulate how it's flowing, or prevent it from doing so when it suits him. (And while, yeah, Harrow's is explainable, just like a lot of the stuff is explainable but still has a big pattern of being just a little questionable, it wouldn't be the first time Harrow didn't fully notice something because it overlapped with her symptoms. She didn't notice she was also being haunted because she was used to hallucinations, so why not also fail to notice that time is genuinely messy because that's expected for her in particular?)

As far as the River, it definitely feels like either Dulcie exists outside time now as you said, and maybe like everyone was meant to, before John created or did whatever he did to this version of the River.

And for Harrow, since finishing Nona I assumed it was vital for them to have an heir so the line of the tombkeeper would remain unbroken because of the vow between Anastasia and Alecto, which of course we don't have details of yet but will be sure to get. I'm not sure if that especially interacts with all this or not but I suppose it wouldn't surprise me for any plot point in this series to be interwoven thirty layers deep lmao.

But yeah, MAN... I wouldn't EXPECT Harrow being the orchestrator of her own conception but I could unfortunately see it now... "If I could do all these amazing things and achieve all this, OF COURSE I wouldn't be worth it" Yeah well what if your existence fixed the entire universe and spared billions? What then huh? 😤

(Also very tangential but LISTEN. Listen that particular thing in Homestuck was arguably the coolest thing it ever did and CANNOT be experienced in full if someone wasn't there for it. Most forms of media straight up could not do it. Because if you go back through the comic now his arm is just there sometimes. But it wasn't. When he put his arm through the retcon power artifact it genuinely retconned his arm into existence in real time across a stupid number of pages and it sounds simple to explain but I swear at the time it was so hype...)

You know re time, I kinda have this notion that the end of Chapter 1 of Harrow doesn’t end right as Harrow dies from being by skewered by Mercymorn. I understand that contextually she hears the resurrection beasts heralds, as well as sounds of steel clashing like swords, but that particular bit about hell spitting her back out?? Like yeah, this could be her returning from the river, and it probably is, but like. I don’t know. I feel like there’s something there with the fact that Alecto starts with Harrow in Hell.

Huh...

On one hand, it fully does work. (It's the Prologue rather than Ch1 but I know what you mean.) When she goes to "make war on Hell", that just being hyperbole / metaphorical to talk about dropping into the River to help with the RB works just fine. Harrow drops in, gets stabbed before she gets too deep, pops back out. It's fine... There's nothing about it that especially demands scrutiny...

And that's how Tamsyn fucking gets us, isn't it...

Because the other Lyctors never saw Harrow drop in with them... And "make war on Hell" / "Hell spat you back out" was said before we knew there was a literal entrance to Hell down there, too. Hell is capitalized there... When John says "give it hell, children" paragraphs before, it isn't, but the Hell Harrow goes to make war on is. When John describes the stoma as the mouth to Hell, it is.

And at the end of Ch39, which leads into the Prologue at John's "ten minutes until breach"... there's the separation formatting putting emphasis on the single last line:

And you walked to your death like a lover.

And what took place between "Ten minutes until breach" and "went to make war on Hell"? Ianthe's whole deal, and after she leaves, the last thing before dropping in, Harrow praying...

“I pray the tomb is shut forever,” you heard yourself saying aloud, and you could not bring your voice above a choked whisper. “I pray the rock is never rolled away. I pray that which was buried remains buried, insensate, in perpetual rest with closed eye and stilled brain. I pray it lives … O corse of the Locked Tomb,” you extemporised wildly. “Beloved dead, hear your handmaiden. I loved you with my whole rotten, contemptible heart—I loved you to the exclusion of aught else—let me live long enough to die at your feet.”

You walked to your death like a lover.

And how does Harrow's side of things and the whole book end? With that... trippy scene that doesn't add up...

The chains in their great holes were snapped and broken. The ice crawled up the sides of the empty altar. Within that bed of ice and glass, on the stone-shaped pillow to prop the head, that final resting place of Harrowhark’s one true love, lay a sword. [...] Harrowhark had come home, and she was not afraid. She did not know why she did it, but she climbed inside that empty coffin, and she took the sword within her arms. She was filled with a drowsy, comfortable certainty, as though rather than an icy tomb she had been tucked into a bed with a pillow fluffed beneath her. Her eyelids felt as heavy as the chains that lay broken around the outside of the bier. The sword she embraced shamelessly; those six feet of steel held no fear for her now. Something rustled at her side. She had not seen it when she climbed in; it had been tucked to one side of the coffin. When she reached out to hold it in front of her face, she found a shiny mass of magazine flimsy. [...] “Frontline Titties of the Fifth,” she read, and found she was smiling helplessly to herself. She murmured: “Nav, you ass, that’s not even a real publication.” Then there was a huge, side-to-side rocking, in the manner of an explosion, or a cradle. Her eyes closed. Lying in the tomb that had claimed her heart, faraway in a land she had never travelled, Harrowhark Nonagesimus fell asleep, or dropped dead, or both.

And assuming it was genuine and doesn't significantly change, we know AtN opens with Harrow waking up to see the titty magazine, and is also called "Harrow in Hell."

I deeply deeply think you're onto something here.

How deeply Harrowhark would it be to keep her plans to herself, even from the audience? To see that she is certain to die fighting a Resurrection Beast, to know the others don't even expect her to show up to the fight, and to use the time instead to slip right down to the bottom and try to do some shit in Hell that we simply have not been privy to yet.

With the emphasis on the chains being broken, what are the odds that Chapter 53 takes place after Nona the Ninth?

Hell, given the epilogue setting up Nona is labeled "Six Months After The Emperor's Murder", and Chapter 53 is labeled "Half an Hour Ago", how much even higher are the odds that "Half an Hour Ago" is relative to AtN, not to the Emperor's Murder. Especially given we've only seen tiny snippets of Harrow since?

With all my other thoughts about Time being broken, could it even be that Chapter 53 was Half an Hour Ago before the start of AtN, yet for Harrow specifically was experienced before the epilogue of NtN, while to everyone else what Harrow remembers before came after?

There's something here... There's something...

(Tagging in @cemetegee and @thanergetic-hyperlinks for more time discussion too.)

43 notes · View notes

mbirnsings-71 · 4 months ago

Text

*sips my drink* God I love being a multishipper sometimes.

#Madi's Art :>#WAaDW AU :>#cause they're all normal people. one day I will draw Blaze Hybrid Tango cause god I wanna draw fire hair But that will have to wait while #I'm still brainrotting over my own AU #also yes Bamboozler fit Jimmy! Yes the Bamboozler Floral shop has the fits! I just haven't drawn them! I need to!#there's a lot of things I need to draw but today was a Jimmy day apparently #YOU KNOW WHO I NEED TO DRAW? SCAR- DID I DRAW SCAR? NO #instead I drew Scott! and Jimmy! and Tango!#which this is my best Tango by far and I am using him as my basis for how I draw him in my au because holy shit a banger tango alert!#okay got a funny out of my system Ru will know what it is #flower husbands #team rancher #rancher duo #Flower ranchers #technically cause that is one of the ships in my AU yet I still never draw them all together! I gotta get on that!#Just drawing interactions is so hard but I think I've gotten better at it over the years!#one day I will write a flower ranchers one-shot and yes it will be a Jimmy sickfic for my au AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUS-#whenever I watch a Tango pov... Then I can write that... there's a Chance I can write that cause I have Tango's season 2 of hermitcraft on #my wheel of hermitcraft povs to watch-#if that is the one-shot to start my AU that will be the funniest thing in the world actually I might just have to-#but also like there's three different povs it could be told from and like Jimmy's pov would definitely probably have to be the one the #one the sickfic is told from but I might write out Tango's pov as a writing exercise to get his tone of voice down #anywho Guys I can't wait to actually start Writing for my au (I say as the only thing stopping me is that I gotta watch Martyn's videos)#I'll do that on friday maybe... Or I will spin my wheel and see where it lands okay okay #fanart #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #scott smajor #tangotek fanart

51 notes · View notes

thedeadthree · 10 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ➸ irulanne . the rook .

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 . 𝐄𝐋𝐅 . 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 .

-`. template by @kanos . coloring . icons .

✧ ― 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ask to be added or removed or interact 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!!):

@pavus, @wlwaerith, @shadowsofrose, @grapecaseschoices, @nokstella

@queennymeria, @risingsh0t, @carrionsflower, @leviiackrman, @griffin-wood

@confidentandgood, @aceghosts, @tommyarashikage, @shadowglens, @yharnams

@anoras, @theelderhazelnut, @florbelles, @celticwoman, @pinkfey

@kyberinfinitygems, @cloudofbutterflies92, @carlosoliveiraa, @shellibisshe, @adelaidedrubman

@lavampira, @capelizabeth, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @statichvm, @unholymilf

@aezyrraeshh, @imogenkol, @aceghosts, @full---ofstarlight, @ellierenae

#oc: irulanne #leg.ocs #leg.edits #*myedits #*ocedit #dragon age rook #da:tv #datv #my necromancer !!!!!!! my baby she’s here!!#teehee the first of the rooks !! so far i have 4 on standby for the fall the brainworms are brainwormingg jnhdkhnsk #spot the lucanne reference hehee twas a must to add something of luca in there he and lanna have had me in a CHOKEHOLD all a week hehe <3 #colorings by cavalier remainn ICONIC andd SPEAKING OF WHICH THIS TEMPLATE GOLLY HOLLY #ty tyy orion this template was SOO good *screams* i had SO much fun working with it!!!!!#alsoo the official tarot for necromancers / mages / sidony from inky youll always be loved by MEE.#i am not sure if i want to go too much into her lore yet as its so early but the brainrot is brainrotting and i have SOO many thoughts!!#her history her lore how i see her interacting with the world and the world with her lanna's personality and her dynamic with luca AHHHH #*rattling the bars of my cage* FALL COME SOONER !!#lanna has had the braincell for the week STRAIGHT hdbjh <33 #the high stakes tennis match between dragon show and dragon game brainrot hehe <33 #ill hopefully have something for them too soooon I MISSED THEMM SO MUCHH #her lighthouse outfit + luca's outfit hehe couples that wear *almost* matching outfits thats soulmates or something (im normal) HEHEE #her name (hopefully the last time i change it djksncks) is inspired by i*rulan from d*une !!#an arcane prodigy entering her girlfailure era <33 girlbossed too close to the sun if u will JNDKJDSN #seemingly puts on an air of confidence but hides BIIIG time nervous wreck energy shes gonna take messing things up well i can feel it :')#i feel like a lot of clothes for her are sort of reminiscent of her time in the mourn watchers? all based on aspects of the dead??#like bones or etc?? but i also love that she could be a lightning learning mage with other magic so she takes to that more ethereal nature #to her style !! she’s also a BIG fan of the opera and was sort of praised as this golden child an arcane prodigy #the gifted kid to burnout adult pipeline she is really feeling it now 🥀🤧#hi hi moots if u read all that i am baking you cookies as we speak THERES SO MUCH MORE LOREE on her i have im screaming she’s everythingg #AHH IT WORKED IT POSTED <33 so so happy i can yell about her now HEHE 🥀💌

134 notes · View notes

fbfh · 2 months ago

Note

do you still write for jj?

ooooh not only do I write for JJ but I kiss you on both cheeks for giving me an excuse to talk about one of my favorite obscure JJ thoughts. JJ x ballerina!reader (gn so technically ballet dancer reader, but you do dance pointe and in a more feminine style in pas de deux so do with that what you will)

They thought you were a kook for the first few summers since you clearly went to school off the island. It turns out you're not, you're just a scholarship kid to whatever fancy school you go to (something that Pope LOVES to pick your brain about since he's dying for a scholarship to his dream college)

at some point or another, there's a hurricane. you end up sticking it out with the other pogues. that's when they notice how... weirdly flexible you are. especially JJ. mostly JJ. it started off small, with you stretching a little while you guys are hanging out in the aftermath since the day after a hurricane is always a free day. JJ looked away from you for like two seconds and you just fuckin... dropped into a perfect split. he's surprised by this obviously, but he's more surprised when you seamlessly shift to a split on the other side, then a center split, bending and moving with impossibly flexibility. then a moment later, you're asking him "hey can you grab my leg?" as you stand up and stretch into a scorpion/needle pose. soon you're dragging him out of the room to "help you with something else." he FULLY thinks yall are about to hook up, but instead you put on this beautiful, artsy, erratic piano music, kick off your sandals or sneakers or whatever, and begin moving like a fucking vision.

you're rambling to him while you dance like it's nothing, but his jaw is on the fucking floor.

"This is the solo I learned last semester," you chuckle while spinning like a little figurine atop a music box, or something in a snow globe, or... wherever else he's seen ballerinas in passing before.

"If I'm rusty by the time I get back, Miss Raine will kill me." you chuckle playfully.

after a few moments, you finish, posed delicately on the ground. you look up at him, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glistening with mirth.

"holy fucking shit," he exclaims, making you blush. "goddamn, princess, that-"

he trails off with a disbelieving chuckle.

"That was fuckin' incredible," he says with a breathy laugh, then nudges you playfully, looking at you more closely like he must have missed something all those times he looked at you and never saw this magical ballet fairy hiding inside you. "you've been holdin' out on me." he teases.

"okay, okay, here's where I need your help." you begin, trying not to get too distracted. you reach out and grab his wrist, holding out his left arm palm up. "I'm gonna run at you like this-"

you demonstrate, taking a step forward. his attention is locked onto you even harder from the moment you grab his arm.

"And kinda... kick my leg around," you do just that, so you're twisted around and facing away from him. he lets out a little noise of surprise. you know it must seem convoluted and ridiculous, but you really need help practicing this lift.

"I need you to wrap your arm around me like this," you say, bending forward with one leg extended behind you, the other supporting you, so your stomach rests on his bicep and his hand holds the small of your back. "And then place your other hand right on my ribcage here."

"oh, my hand will be wherever you want it, cupcake." he says, making you roll your eyes at the (only half joking) innuendo.

"okay." you say, taking a step back. "you ready?"

the first few times you walk through it together are clumsy and slow, a mess of limbs and giggles, but eventually you get it. you call your friends in to show them the bluebird lift you've been working on, even having successfully taught JJ how to lower you and do a few basic steps with you to conclude. you both get through it unscathed, and your friends reactions are very similar to JJ (with only slightly less innuendo and teasing from John B and Pope), and as JJ giggles and demands you come at him so he can lift you again, you start to see a lot of potential in him.

maybe, just maybe, you can shape that potential a little more over the summer. your ballet academy always has scholarships for boys available since they're always in demand in the performing arts. you think there might just be a chance for JJ to do a lot more lifts with you.

#drabbles #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks drabbles #JJ maybank #JJ maybank x reader #JJ maybank drabbles #ballet!JJ #THIS IS MY FAVORITE BRAIN ROT AU IVE NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO TALK ABOUT #ITS SO WEIRD AND SPECIFIC BUT AUUGUGHHHH BALLET!JJ JUST HITS DIFFERENT #ITS GIVING SKATER BOY BY AVRIL LEVIGNE BUT INSTEAD ITS YOU WERE A CLASSICALLY TRAINED BALLERINA/HE WAS A SURFER TURNED BALLET DANCER #CAN I MAKE IT ANYMORE OBVIOUSSSSS #also I have an ex friend who is HORRIBLE at singing (I normally never say that about people but she gave me nothing to speak kindly about)#and she was obsessed with that song #I didn't love skater boy by avril (also genuinely surprised I only got one letter wrong in her name before) by avril lavigne before #but after knowing this person I wanna puke a little whenever I think of it bc I can only hear it in a voice that I can only describe as #the scene from the family guy sherlock holmes episode where the dead bodys organs are replaced with bagpipes and sewn back up #and brian and stewie jump on the stomach and play that one song #toxic ex friend used to sound like she had bagpipes in her stomach and was being weakly and erratically punched by a fatigued amateur boxer #every fucking time she would sing #HORRIBLE breath control. nasally. horrible diction. could not stay on key or on tempo to save her life #so yeah anyway #doubt she'll ever see this much less read these tags but girl if you do??? no you didn't. do not fuckin interact w me girlfriend #and yes this is the same bitch I had to block on ALL social media platforms INCLUDING youtube pinterest gmail kakaotalk and several others #I tried to block her on spotify but unfortunately you cannot block people on spotify (last I checked)#anyway enjoy ballet!jj and this bizarre and vague borderline trauma dump lol #to quote that line from fiddler on the roof “may god bless and keep the czar far away from us”#relieved to say she is not my circus and ergo I am not responsible for any related monkeys

26 notes · View notes