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writingouthere · 1 year ago

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singledad!sukuna x neighbor!reader; the promised prequel, you and Sukuna gaslighting each other into a relationship. You don't need to have read the first story to get this one but it's here! Yuuji is Sukuna's little brother but Sukuna has raised him since birth and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: the vibes are bad but mutual so? like Sukuna is lying, scheming his way into being your husband but you are also lying, scheming to be his wife

Phase 1: Gaslight

Sukuna walked to the top of the landing feeling pretty fucking incredible. Today, he'd managed to beat the shit out of some crusty, old fucks who thought they could get some of their old territory back from him and Uraume. As a bonus, he'd managed to embarrass that nosy cop Yaga who was always bothering them.

Nothing like important evidence in a upcoming case mysteriously vanishing to get you some side-eye from the city. Sukuna thought that was what they deserved for using a closed circuit security cam system they'd probably bought in the 90's.

To add to this amazing day, he was about to get to eat dinner with his little brother and his gorgeous neighbor who was watching him.

His phone buzzed and Sukuna looked down to see a text from Uraume.

Where are you?

Another message followed shortly after.

Did you already go home? Is this about your neighbor? It's getting sad.

Sukuna chose to ignore his only friend and head for his apartment, which was conveniently across yours. Well at least it had proved convenient for him.

You had moved in a few months ago and Sukuna had been instantly smitten. As soon as you had introduced yourself to Sukuna, he knew it was over. He wanted you to look at him all the time, although he supposed he could let you give Yuuji some of your attention.

You had looked at his tattoos, his piercings, his dyed hair with some obvious interest, but then talked to him like he was a normal person. Maybe it was the effect of a clinging Yuuji calling him 'daddy', but you seemed to find him nonthreatening to an almost offensive degree. He found he didn't mind it.

He had offered you any help you might need, just from one neighbor to another and you had thanked him with all of your good manners on display.

You had taken him up on his offer of help when your radiator had stopped working a few weeks after you moved in. The super in your building was notoriously shitty and as such, had not been answering any of your calls or texts. Sukuna had fixed it while you and Yuuji drew some pictures and listened to some overly peppy pop music. When Sukuna had finished, you had insisted the two of them stay for dinner as payment and Sukuna couldn't help but accept.

You didn't need to know the radiator was broken in the first place because he had picked your lock and fucked up the valve the night before. You were clearly just as eager to get to know him as he was you, you just needed a little push and he was happy provide it.

Later, when telling you a story while you cooked, he knew he hadn't mistaken the pleased look in your eyes when he mentioned he was a single parent. He didn't let on that he noticed though and he continued telling you a story about Yuuji and Megumi's nearly successful attempt to kidnap a very confused hound from the dog park.

The boy had protested at his correct version of events. "His owner was mean!"

"Yuuji, he was a thousand and so was the mutt. He probably thought Megumi was the grim reaper finally there to take him home."

Yuuji had kept arguing while you laughed and laughed. Sukuna was quickly addicted to the sound.

Dinner had been delicious and the three of you spent the whole evening together. Sukuna couldn't help but think that it felt right.

Maybe he was growing soft in his old age, but he didn't hate the idea of coming home to this every night. After a stressful day of blood, gore and various shenanigans, it would be nice to come back to a kind face and a warm home. It helped that Yuuji, the brat, spent the whole night smiling so hard it looked almost painful.

After he put Yuuji to bed that night, Sukuna made a decision that he would be coming home every night to that. He just needed to get you on board.

He'd tried asking you out the normal way, but you had been hesitant. You had spouted some bullshit about a bad ex, needing to focus on your career, blah, blah. In your defense, you did look genuinely remorseful about turning him down, and Sukuna recognized in you a strong sense of self preservation and wariness that he understood. Sukuna told that it wasn't a problem. And it wasn't.

He just had to change tactics.

The idea had come to him a few weeks after you turned him down. You hadn't rejected him because you weren't interested, he knew that. Sukuna had seen the way you smiled at him, the hungry stare when his shirt would get caught when he took off a sweatshirt. You had clearly been hurt by people who hadn't deserved you and you were justifiably nervous. He needed to show you that he was here to take care of you.

God, he would be so good to you, you just didn't see it yet. By the time you realized what was going on, you would be so happy that you wouldn't mind the steps that you you there. He wasn't going to give you any other option.

This all led to him to the next part of his plan. Even though he had Yuuji in the most expensive daycare laundered money could buy, he had decided to tell you that there was a sudden issue with the center. He had kept it vague and you hadn't pressed him for details. The fact those details led to Yuuji needing childcare when you happened to not be at work, well that was just good fortune.

Like the good girl you were, you immediately agreed to watch Yuuji when he had called telling you the fake problem with the daycare. When it had happened again the next week, this time a work emergency he couldn't get out of, you agreed to help again. And then again and again and again until you were watching Yuuji at least two or three nights a week.

Now, some people may have a problem weaponizing their four-year old to get a woman to date them. Sukuna did not have this hang up. Afternoons watching Yuuji quickly turned into dinners with the three of you, and every day just brought you closer and closer to finally being together.

Sukuna had even worked up to some light touching. Just a quick brushing of his hand on your shoulder when thanking you, moving you aside by your hips when the two of you were in the kitchen. At first, you'd seemed a little unsure but now you had even begun returning his affection. You were quick to squeeze his hand or lean against him on the couch during your little family move nights.

Thinking about what he could get away with tonight, Sukuna knocks twice on his door before using his key to unlock it. Upon entering, he's immediately tackled by a mini-linebacker.

"Daddy!"

Used to the boy's antics, Sukuna caught him and closes the door with his hip before walking over to where you were stirring something on the stove.

"Hey kid, how was your day?" Sukuna asks Yuuji as you shoot them both a fond smile.

"It was amazing! Megumi's mom brought one of their dogs to daycare today and he was so fluffy...."

Yuuji goes on and on about his day while making sure to slip in how they should definitely get a dog every couple of sentences. Aside from how the idea of a creature existing only be to owned and loved at will by it's owners disgusting Sukuna, he also still keenly remembers the time Yuuji found a dead earthworm outside and cried for an hour. Being responsible for a living, shitting thing that would eventually die was probably still too much for him.

You find Yuuji's ramblings charming and even though you hadn't arrived at pick up early enough to see Megumi's mommy with the dog, you agree with Yuuji that he must have been a very fluffy boy indeed.

"Sounds like you had a good day," he says before looking over at you. "Thanks again for stepping in to watch the brat, I really appreciate it."

While Yuuji protests his less than affectionate nickname, you distract him by pinching his cheek. "No worries, Yuuji and I had a lot of fun. Right, Yuuji?"

"Yeah!"

Insult forgotten, Yuuji leans against Sukuna's shoulder while you put the finishing touches on dinner.

You're keeping Sukuna company while he does the dishes later when you bring something up that almost trips him up.

"You know, I talked to the daycare worker today and she was wondering why you weren't picking up Yuuji as much. She said you'd never missed a day before a few months ago."

You say it innocently, but there is a question implied there. What has changed?

He keeps it casual as he dries a plate with his newly aquired sunflower hand towel. "Yeah, it sucks not being able to get the kid every day, but work has really been on my case lately."

This wasn't true. Work was work, and even in the past he'd always prioritized time with Yuuji over getting extra jobs done. Now, he thought of the time he was gone as investing in Yuuji's future by making sure you would be a part of it. The extra cash he was bringing in would probably end up in Yuuji's college fund or as a down payment on a house for your soon to be growing family anyway.

Sukuna was actually quite thoughtful when you got down to it.

You take his words at face value. The two of you are chatting about some play the daycare would be putting on, where Yuuji would be starring as a particularly cheerful acorn, when his phone rang. Sukuna would normally ignore it, but the ringtone was one he had set specifically for Kenjaku and that fuck was not to be left unattended.

"Give me just a sec," he tells you before heading into another room.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asks, already bored with the conversation and impatient to get back to you and Yuuji.

It's some nonsense about a late shipment and incompetent people who are not Sukuna, and he gets more pissed as the minutes keep ticking. Finally, he tells the creep what he's going to him if he doesn't figure the mess out himself. It starts with some mild dismemberment and ends with an unspeakable act with his open skull once Sukuna rips out the stitches he'd recently gotten under mysterious circumstances.

He hangs up and goes out into the living room where you and Yuuji are watching tv. You're picking at your nail beds, something he's only seen you do when you're upset, but you give him a smile as he comes to sit down next to you.

He tells himself that he's being paranoid. The tv is loud and you're too good a girl to eavesdrop.

You leave not too long after the call and as you go to the door, you hesitate.

"Something on your mind," he asks wondering if maybe you heard something after all.

You shake your head and smile at him again. "No, it's nothing. I'm just so tired from work, honestly."

You turn to leave and he gently grabs your arm and pulls you closer. You look too taken aback for him to try and kiss you now, so he just presses his lips against your temple, taking in the smell of your hair and the warmth you give him.

"Good night, princess."

You give him a shaky good night in return and he watches you go into your apartment before he shuts the door. He can't keep the smug grin off his face, everything was going according to plan.

Phase 2: Gatekeep

You weren't going to stop anywhere on your way home from daycare but Yuuji really wants to go to the park and you just couldn't say no to his cute face. Sukuna said he would be home late anyway, since he was stuck at the office. Again.

You still didn't know what 'office' Sukuna worked at exactly ,but the hours seemed pretty wild. This was the fourth time in the past two weeks he'd called you, contrite in a way that didn't seem natural to him, asking if you could pick up Yuuji from daycare. You didn't mind helping him, in fact you loved hanging out with the four year-old. It definitely beat going back to your quiet apartment every night.

But still, it seemed weird for someone as in control as Sukuna to not have a better handle on his childcare. He's presumably had this job a while, and Yuuji hadn't been born yesterday. Considering you'd once watched an entire elevator of people in your building get out when they saw Sukuna get on, you doubted he could count on his other neighbors for last minute childcare.

There also that weird phone call you'd overheard that night at his place.

"Look, it's Megumi!"

You look to see where Yuuji is waving with his free hand while his other one is dragging you with inhuman strength towards a small boy with black hair and a very cultivated resting bitch face.

"Hi Megumi, it's nice to meet you. Are you Yuuji's friend?" The little boy nods and looks you up and down as you finish introducing yourself.

"Yuuji's talked about you." The boy looks like he's about to say more but Yuuji laughs and starts pulling him away towards the swings with calls for you to watch and see how high you can go.

Watching the two boys run around, you almost forget how cold you are and how confusing the past few weeks, few months really, have been.

"Ah, so you're the neighbor."

You turn and see a beautiful man walking up to you. His hair is long, styled in a half up-half down style that would make you look like you belonged to a weird religious cult, but on him looks fashionable. His coat is plain black, but you recognize the logo and are in awe that someone so wealthy would just bring their kid to a random public park.

You really don't get rich people.

"Um, who are you?"

The man laughs but it isn't a nice sound, it's a pretty sound, everything about this man is pretty, but his laugh isn't giving "laughing with you" vibes.

"I'm Suguru, Megumi's parent. I'm sure you'll meet my other half soon enough," he says with a fondness that makes you smile.

"Is your wife still at work?"

"Husband," he corrects kindly, as he sips from one of those expensive water bottles you're always seeing online. "And I suppose, I mean he's at work in the same way that Ryoumen is at work."

You feel that unpleasant feeling well up in you again, the one that told you the valve on the radiator had been there and been fine when you went to sleep that night. "Sorry, do they work at the same company or something?" You laugh but it's forced and the look in his eyes sharpens.

"Company?"

You're irritated now and with a look to confirm the boys are still preoccupied with each other you turn to this infuriating stranger with all the uncertainty and anxiety that has been building in you since Sukuna kissed your temple when you left the other night.

"Alright, what the fuck is going on? I don't know you or your husband or even Sukuna lately but it's obvious you're mixed up with some shady shit-"

"You're right, you really don't know anything." The words are said with the same kind tone from earlier, but there's something nasty underlying them.

"Let me help you out," Suguru says and his height helps him look down on you literally as he does so with his words. "Ryoumen is not your friend and all of these little situations you're finding yourself in, he's making them up. Normally, I wouldn't mind. However, Satoru and I made a bet on when you'd figure it out, or run for the hills. If this goes on much longer, Satoru is going to win and believe me, he'll be insufferable if that happens."

"How kind of you," you tell him and he just smiles in a practiced fashion. "So what is it exactly that I need to know? I already knew that Sukuna liked me."

"Like is an interesting word," Suguru says.

"What word would you use?"

Suguru thinks about it for a minute and takes another sip of his water. "Obsessed, possessive, irrational."

"I see why I would run for the hills," you say dryly and he laughs, actually amused this time.

"Maybe, it depends on what you're looking for."

You were curious despite yourself. "What do you mean?"

"I'll deny it if you ever tell either of them, but your Ryoumen and my Satoru have a lot in common. They're strong and self absorbed in a way that most people rightfully find off putting. They don't think other people are as substantial as they are, which they may be right about." You listen as he continues, unsure where this is going. "This means they don't have many weaknesses, but the weaknesses they do have are crippling."

"What weaknesses are those?" you ask but you have an idea, watching the two boys continue to chase each other around the swings.

"They don't care about many people, but the people they do carry about, they'll burn the world for. Satoru did the same bullshit with me that Ryoumen is pulling with you. Just pushing himself into my life little by little and rearranging everything until he was right at the center of it."

"What did you do when you found out?" You wonder how that had led to a marriage, and wonder if this was some basement wife shit. Suguru gives you an amused look like he can read your thoughts.

"He's not a....subtle creature, I knew almost right away."

You still feel lost. "Why didn't you confront him, tell him you knew what was happening?"

"He doesn't need to know everything, he has plenty on his mind as it is. Some information is better kept just for me."

In fairness, it is hard for you to see the man in front of you being manipulated into anything, but you still push. "It just sounds like you're excusing his behavior."

"I let Satoru have me, because I wanted what he was offering. He wanted a partner, someone to raise Megumi with after he killed his old man," you really felt like this required more explanation but Suguru kept going like he was talking about the weather. "He was my best friend and I loved him, I didn't mind if he wanted to make me his little housewife. I was tired of dealing with all that shit, anyway."

"So what? It's okay that he manipulated you into marriage, because you love him? That seems fucked up to me."

"Maybe, but I don't mind. You may not understand this, but I came from the middle of nowhere before I met Satoru. I was poor, I had nothing going for me except I was smart and was willing to do whatever work I could get, and I also happened to be the only out gay person I had ever met." You winced in sympathy and he sighed before shaking out his long, glossy hair.

"Besides, you're missing the point. You can either hold on to your false illusion of independence and move through life at the will of people and institutions bigger and more powerful than you," he says and gives you a pointed look. "Or you can choose to put your life in the hands of someone who can stand up to those institutions and people in your name."

"It just seems like picking your poison to me," but you can see what he means in spite of yourself. Years of shitty exes, jobs that exploited your labor, a life that had been harder than you wanted and at the end of the day an apartment empty of anyone to go back to. What did you really want here?

"Well I love Satoru, I know he loves me and Megumi, and that there is nothing and no one that he wouldn't face in order to protect us. What else could I want?"

Before you can answer his question, the same one you had asked yourself. Megumi calls out he's hungry and Suguru tells him they are going home. Both boys start to run over to the two of you.

"Just think about it. Soon it won't be your choice at all."

"Why are you really telling me this?" you can't help but ask and he looks at you.

"Because I think it should be your choice. They may be gods among men, but that doesn't mean they have to rule us." He gives one last calculated smile that sends shivers down your spine. "Having the ear of a god gives you a lot more than just a pretty ring, if you use it right."

Suguru and Megumi wave when they leave and Yuuji grabs your hand as the two of you make your way back home.

"Megumi's mom is so nice!"

"Yeah," you say a little distracted. But with every step towards your apartment, you become more sure of what you want and that gives you a sense of calm you'd been missing since Sukuna came carving his own path into your life. "He was lovely."

Phase 3: Girlboss

Sukuna looked at the ceiling of your apartment, which was just raining down water, and then looked at you.

"You said you woke up and it was just like this?"

He tried not to sound incredulous but damn, you must sleep like the dead. It was like the a fucking typhoon in here.

Your eyes teared up a little and you tugged at the baggy t-shirt you were wearing, which just brought his attention to how it barely reached your thighs and were you even wearing panties-

"I just don't know what to do Sukuna, do you think there's something wrong with the pipes?"

Sukuna tried his best to make eye contact with you and maybe if he'd been paying better attention, he would have seen your eyes were shining with victory, not tears, but alas he was only a man.

"Yeah, it looks like a pipe burst upstairs. That apartment has been empty forever, useless super must have not done anything to make sure it was good for winter."

You nodded and then let out a big sigh that managed to nearly drown out the water. "What if I can't stay in the apartment? Where am I going to live?"

Sukuna shook his head and wiped away a tear on your cheek. "Let me go check it out upstairs before you freak out, okay?" He took his key out and handed it to you. "Just go wait in my apartment okay, I'll let you know what I find."

You nod and Sukuna leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before heading upstairs to the vacant apartment. The door is unlocked, Sukuna assumed to make it easier for prospective tenants to check it out.

As soon as Sukuna gets to the bathroom he sees the problem. A pipe is leaking. It seemed careless for the super to let it get to this point, but it wouldn't be hard to fix. In fact, Sukuna doesn't even have to go back to his apartment for any tools. A toolkit is stashed under the sink, next to where the pipe is leaking. Sukuna grabs a wrench and it doesn't take more than a minute to tighten the pipe up.

"Weird," Sukuna says but whatever. Not his job to critique shitty workmanship in a building he doesn't own at 3 in the morning. As Sukuna puts the wrench back, he notices the kit looks a lot like the little starter kit you have in your own apartment.

The super should really have better materials.

Sukuna returns back to his apartment to see you pacing across his living room and you just look so lost that he can't help but pull you into his arms. "It's fine, I fixed it. We'll just dry out your apartment and I can call someone to come look at it in the morning."

"What if it's not fixable? What if I have to move out-"

"You're leaving!"

Sukuna looks over your head to see Yuuji standing there, the little boy probably woken up by all the movement this late at night.

"No, no one's leaving Yuuji," he said but Yuuji's eyes still filled with tears anyway and you seemed stressed as well.

"I don't know, I might have to if there's any permanent damage."

Yuuji is actually crying now and you seem on the brink too, so Sukuna holds out his arms and you both crowd in, your face now hidden in his t-shirt.

"Even if something is wrong, you'll always have a place with us. It's all going to be fine." He held both of his precious people to him, unaware that he wasn't the only one smiling. "Don't worry."

Yeah, you weren't worried.

But, maybe Sukuna should be.

this took a weirdly long time, it maybe was meant to be broken up more, but hope everyone enjoys. next up is the closing arc of my singlemom! series.

the Suguru scene was the hardest thing I've written for this page and it got way more serious than I thought it would but it was the first scene I thought of for this story.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut

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tobiasdrake · 1 month ago

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hearing you call live-action sonic surprisingly conservative in your post about media moving forward felt like being shot in the heart

i mean, sonic as a character is pretty leftist. his whole deal is being free and setting people free,

beating up enemies in the game is literally breaking the shell that the animals are stuck in

Eggman was an analogy for pollution, with him destroying the environment for personal gain, and later being more of a fascist dictator

and his thing is always turning people into products, into literal machines he can control to do his labor and fight his wars, which would be every capitalist’s dream.

and so i never put the pieces together when it comes to the movie being conservative.

damn.

ouch.

could you elaborate more on it? idk, the conversation hurts but i’d like to know what your thoughts are on live-action sonic specifically

Oh, sure. We can talk about the surprisingly conservative themes and ideas of the live-action Sonic the Hedgehog films. With the caveat that this is old-school traditional conservatism, not modern nakedly fascistic conservatism. The Sonic movies are conservative in a Home Improvement sort of way, not a Lady Ballers sort of way.

What it amounts to is that Paramount approached the films not with intent to make a Sonic the Hedgehog movie but with intent to make a "relatable" story for an audience that also has Sonic the Hedgehog in it.

Have you ever seen 2019's Godzilla: King of the Monsters? A film which centers a broken family trying to connect with each other, while also there's a disaster movie happening around them? Like. Godzilla and Mothra and Ghidorah is all stuff that's happening, but what really matters here is whether this daughter can forgive her mother.

It's the of writing a low-stakes personal drama and then stapling the film premise to it. The kind of move that makes sense with something like The Day After Tomorrow where the premise is just "It got fucking cold" so the movie kinda needs something with some actual characters that it can be about.

But when it's an adaptation, it shows low confidence in the IP itself to carry a film. It says, "I don't think a Sonic movie would work, so instead I'm going to just make a movie and have Sonic in it."

And the a movie that they made centers some conservative values. But, like, old-school conservative values, not the hyper-fascistic transphobia and white supremacy and stuff you see around today. Things that were considered commonly recognized conservative values in the 80's and 90's, when white people were still supposed to believe that racism was over and all that jazz.

For one, Tom is a cop. Which is a wild choice for a film coming out at the height of BLM and ACAB. The film, as well as its subsequent sequels and spinoffs, play Tom's policing very sympathetically. A major theme of the first film is that Officer Wachowski is a vital and valuable part of his community.

There is no ambiguity; The cops are the good guys here. They're kind of wacky but we're meant to love both of them, Tom and Wade. They are, however, contrasted by the wickedness of the Feds.

Eggman, in the film, is reimagined from an industrialist to a federal agent. He represents the long arm of Big Government overreach coming for the sleepy town of Green Hill. Which is then further represented by G.U.N., who oppose Eggman once he goes rogue but are still the enemy nonetheless.

Even the Knux series still manages to be about fighting the Feds. The federal government has been the antagonist for 3 out of 3 entries thus far, when Eggman himself has only been the antagonist for 2.

The films leave the environmentalism of the original behind, instead centering family values. Rather than setting out to rescue woodland creatures from industry, Sonic has heart-to-heart chats with Tom about growing up and finding his calling. Knux isn't the guardian of Angel Island, but Sonic's adopted brother. Maddie can ground him for inappropriate behavior.

The first film also features the popular old-school conservative theme of Rural America vs. Urban America. Tom is a small-town cop who yearns for the glamour of the big city. He thinks his calling is there. But, over the course of the film, he learns to appreciate the value of small-town living and his importance to his community, and sets aside his foolish dreams of urbanity.

"I wanted to run away to the city but then learned that my Real 'Murica small hometown is where I truly belong" is probably the single most popular conservative story in decades of film and television.

It's worth noting that the film does feature an interracial marriage, which is something I hear brought up a lot as a way of saying "Actually it's not conservative because...."

But for as much credit as Maddie might warrant... There is the issue of Rachel. A character who exists primarily in the film to be a Sassy Black Woman who reacts with furious histrionics towards Tom for no apparent reason. She just. Hates him. From the bottom of her soul, despises "Relatable Cop Boy".

Like. So far as the film's concerned, it needs no explanation. Her relationship with Tom is just an eyeroll, sly glance at the camera, and "In-laws, amirite?" The second film at least gives her more to do, but the first concludes her subplot by having them tie her up and steal her car.

Like. That's it. That is what she amounts to. Maddie's sister yells sassily until she passes out and then the payoff is that they steal her car and leave her tied to a chair as... I guess her karmic retribution for being so sassy and mean to Tom? It's hard to really say whether this is mean-spirited because we do not know what her beef is. The film doesn't think we need to know. "In-laws are crazy, amirite!?"

When you set aside the cool action scenes of Sonic punching robots and look at what the films center as their emotional heart? You get a story about a small-town cop learning to appreciate his rural roots and build a family with his wife despite her unreasonably psychotic relatives, while the wicked federal government attempts to destroy their home, town, family, and way of life.

#sonic the hedgehog

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kinopioa · 2 months ago

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I dont think we need to take Ken penders words for anything, the man is hated for reasons beyond his bad writing. He threw ofher writers he worked with under the buss all the time. Back in the early 2000s he would get anoyyed if someone complimented another writer besides him. He once said, he did his own thing because 'Sega didn't give him much to work with" and would imply his writing made the Sonic characters deeper then in the games. Jon Gray even stated, fhe entire reason why Ken left because he couldn't do what he wanted since his unused plans would break several rules with Sonic's character, especially regarding Shadow. He's now pretending to still care about Sonic's brand because Sonic fans are the only one giving him any attention nowadays.

He is 100% a grifter, idiot, glory hog, has daddy issues, probably misses the 90s when regulation was lax as fuck

But he is unironically right regarding Flynn's parasocial involvement with the fandom. That's the only thing I care about. Given my own research on Ian, Pender's 100% right. Ian already was doing interviews 4 years before he got on Archie, and then generated more interest with the bumbleking forums, and later paid questionaire podcasts. No other writer is this directly in view of fandom opinions, and as seen in his writing, appeals directly to fan bias pretty often

The entire reason he killed Tommy, treated Cream like shit, and fucked with a stupid 5 year "There's a traitor!" with Silver is directly cuz he was mirrored fandom ire. They hated Tommy being dead weight, they hated Cream for "kiddifying the franchise", they hated Silver for being a naive guy from a bad game

I've also noticed Flynn indirectly thrived on surrounding drama of the greater fandom. 06's reception + Archie writers dropping is the only reason he got hired. Yardley's less shit art is why writing got leeway. The 2013 lawsuit causing the reboot gave him a by for "not using expanded chars" along with getting Archie noticed by the games fandom, and Lost World/Forces failing for reception led to people to look more into spinoffs

I see people randomly gas up Archie Sonic as a powerhouse or peak entirely cuz they see this scene out of context

Even though this literally happens right after. He doesn't even beat him legitimately later, he was beaten cuz suddenly his mech is ineffective to most of the FF and Ray. Fucking Ray

People further cementing "skip to issue 160" and accrediting all good writing to Ian is also grounds for creating another Penders. Sadly I think it worked

So I don't give a shit about Pender's ramblings of his "great writing" given how miniscule his impact is nowadays. The only thing of impact to the games he did was bury the idea of a Chronicles sequel, an already noncanon game. I DO care if someone effectively hired by nepotism still shows his bias and misconception for this franchise. This stance in 2008 I don't think changed given how he's been trying to sneak in Archie refs still

If not Ian, it'd be another "fan" on Twitter doing similar disregard of the games

The term "a broken clock right twice a day" is what I'd say applies to Penders for his notes on Ian. Otherwise, outside Spiderman 4 dev, he is to be ignored mostly

Well that and him dunking Krash, that was just...wow. Rare W

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hh0320 · 2 years ago

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໑ — stars in the ceiling. pt I

pair. solo singer! felix x fem! reader (+ mentions of hyunjin)

genre. set in the 90’s, childhood friends to strangers, moving back, struggle with fame, angst, romance, smut.

warnings. profanity, smoking, alcohol/drug abuse, use of pet names, flawed characters, harsh language at times, dark themes, unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk, mental health issues.

word count. 6.2k

a/n. hi my loves! this is going to be a mini series, though i’m still not sure how many parts it will contain. nevertheless, pls treat this idea kindly, and don’t judge its characters too hard, they’ve gone through a lot. feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated and will be replied to! enjoy xx

‘Felix will be going back to Australia for a much needed break, sources close to him reveal. The twenty-three year old alt rock singer just concluded his second world tour, Doll, earlier this week in Los Angeles, with news of his breakup with supermodel Hwang Hyunjin coming out at the same time.

The two had been dating since the Aussie’s rise to fame in 1994.’

New South Wales had remained the same, despite the unshakeable change in Felix’s chest. Barina Road had the same houses standing, fifty-year-old trees stretching, widening into the sky, hiding his parent’s garage from view, the stairs leading up to the front door. He’d paid off the mortgage, bought them a new car.

The sun was beaming, February in full display. His manager greeted his mom, and introduced his assistant, explaining they would be staying at a hotel not too far from there. His father had a beard now, his sister looked taller, and wore glasses.

Your house was around the corner. He could see the rose bushes along the hill, the white shutters with the black outlines. Felix could close his eyes and go back to your room, 1992, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, The Cure and The Smiths’ posters on pastel pink walls, lace trimming on your sheets, makeshift forts and flashlights at midnight, notebooks with hearts drawn on folded ends, his name and yours written next to each other, hand over hand. ‘Girl Afraid’ playing softly through a cassette in a beat down radio. Your dad’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the determination that rushed through Felix’s veins the moment he tasted them, the promise he’d made to himself to make those same cookies for you one day, to learn how.

He never did. His demo got picked up from a record label that would later refer him to the one he belongs to now, and he had to fly out to Melbourne right before your eighteenth birthday. From then on it’s been a shooting star.

He blinks to find his mother teary eyed, arms open. He doesn’t walk—he runs. Washed out silvery blonde locks long enough to be pulled in a ponytail, brown eyes the color of wild thyme honey, hands tired, heart broken. A boy coming home is a very old story, one that will never stop being written. And even though it feels strange to be back after five years of palm trees, everything and nothing—Hollywood, with its golden gates and trophies and nightmare people— it is exactly what he needed. It’s where he has to be.

“You look so tired, baby, so frail,” his mom sobs, pressing her mouth on his temple. “Did no one take care of you? Did no one care?”

Felix didn’t answer. He brought chocolates and clothes for his sisters, jewelry for his mother, Cuban cigars for his father, and his first ever Grammy for you, because none of this would’ve been possible if you hadn’t befriended him all those years ago in the playground. If your voice hadn’t guided him away from those swings and into the forest. If he hadn’t played hide and seek with the girl that wore ribbons in her hair, dark cherries for eyes. And what does he say knowing this?

I left behind the one person that did. That mattered that it did. And when I found something similar, I couldn’t hold it in my hands, I couldn’t get close to it no matter how much I tried.

“I missed you, mom,” he mumbles instead, and grinds his teeth to keep from crying. “I should’ve called more. I should’ve visited.”

The shorter woman sniffles and rubs her son’s back soothingly, shushing him only a mother knows how to. He breathes in her familiar scent, her cooking imprinted on her purple shirt, and smiles sadly. Hyunjin would’ve loved her; he wanted to meet her the most, wanted to hear all the stories when they were in bed together, what few times they were both sober, capable of adventure and conversation till the early hours of the next day. “I never had a mom,” he’d tell him, brown strands of hair escaping his staple bun. “Cherish your mom for me, Yongbokie. Love her terribly.”

“Come inside,” she tells him, waving away the rest. “Stay forever if you need to.”

“It means happiness,” he’d explained on that first meeting with the boy shining more brightly than the chandelier lighting the entire theater. “Yongbok.”

The boy had smiled and it’d made all the difference. His lips reminded Felix of black cherries, of the girl in the room with the window overlooking the trees. “I know what it means. It’s about time I met you.”

Time away from chaos felt empty. The hours passed by slowly, serenity made him paranoid, like it couldn’t possibly last, even there, in a different continent, across the globe. Getting on an airplane didn’t guarantee you’d get away, he realized soon enough. It wasn’t possible, because you can’t outrun yourself.

And it was that Felix was trying to escape. How known he’d become, how aware of his own shadow he was. At first, he’d thought of it as a mountain to climb, something to be achieved, and then something else. It was a ladder leading up, up, up and nowhere specific, but he climbed it anyway. The little prize in his hands was the ultimate show, that one last thing he had to do that would grant him access to more of the same everything and nothing everyone else seemed to be so desperately after. After he’d won it, the decision to leave it all behind became clearer than ever.

A lot of the people he admired had died. And it didn’t matter which way you looked, destruction came in the form of white powder, accompanied by a spoon or a syringe if you were brave enough and had much to lose. “Take your pick, there’s many ways to kill yourself,” a girl had told him once at an afterparty. Young and impressionable as he was he chose by what he saw and picked up the bottle of champagne in front of him. The least harmful, he’d thought. But the sneakiest one of all. And then he saw Hyunjin smoking cigarettes after one of his fashion shows, and thought to try that too. Then it felt like something they could share, so Felix kept smoking until the cough subsided and his fingers smelled of tobacco.

One thing the model never tried to do was shield him from the horrible ways of the industry, and the blonde still can’t find it in himself to castrate him for it. Now, so many thousands of miles away as he was, the habits seemed to follow, like supportive friends. The world is a fucked up place, but it doesn’t seem so bad from where he sits on the rooftop of his childhood house. He could drop the stick from his hand, or break the golden trophy and even deny the existence of evil altogether.

How easy, how vulnerable fame is. You could be no one in particular if you made all the right choices. Felix wasn’t sure why he seemed to do the opposite, walk the other way, the reason for his selective blindness. When something shiny has your name on it you hold it close to your chest and sing to it. It’s precious because it reflects light off it.

Until when?

Your light was on.

He looked for it, looked for a car coming up the hill, watched the sun set, the blending of colors, how majestic it can all get before it fades to black, but you showed up right in the blue of it. You still drove the same Jeep your dad had gifted you for graduation, but your hair was longer, you’d grown a bit. Felix saw how your white dress danced in the summer breeze, ran his eyes down your tanned legs as you walked from your driveway inside your house, and finally, about ten minutes after that, the light through your curtains.

His mother hadn’t mentioned he was back.

He smiles down at his burning cigarette. How would he ever face you with the way he left? He never called, only wrote to you on your birthday, and released a song about a starry girl that visited his dreams, knowing very well that girl waited for him for years to return, even if just for a little while. The guilt of never doing so, and instead loving someone else so all consumingly, while that same song went on to become his best selling single, the song he’d be known for for years to come? It crippled him.

He never wanted to see your face stare back at him. He would rather die, and he admits this to himself bravely. You were his first girl, his only girl. No one would ever come close to you, because you’re clean—you have his innocence, his first time, before he knew anything about anything, and how despite it, he loved you stupidly, earnestly, because it made sense, because it felt right.

“Starry girl, will you burn bright, for me tonight? Oh, will you stay a little while, darling girl…”

How hypocritical. If Chan was around he’d be calling him out, or pushing him down the fucking roof. Felix wouldn’t even mention the broken leg or the dislocated shoulder, because it’d serve him right. Perhaps he needs a solid reminder of his aliveness, of how doing wrong by someone and paying for it feels like. La La Land doesn’t have that, it couldn’t possibly understand that. There, people look up and never down. There, they would push, and keep pushing; they would climb over, step on your neck, tear you apart at the seams for a chance to just keep.looking.up. That climb is all there is.

It’s empty too, but you learn how to miss it.

Felix thinks he might’ve sold his fucking soul, somehow, because as he gets back in the house, his mind won’t stop screaming for him to run away from there as well.

Not a place that could hold someone that’s had everything and then more of it.

Chan hates his guts twice as much as you possibly ever could, but Felix calls him anyway.

“Hello?”

“Chris. It’s me.”

A long pause. The singer falters, thinks he’s made a mistake, curses himself for ever thinking anyone would want anything to do with him after—

“You’re a fucking cunt, Felix, and I hope you burn in Hell. Sincerely.” The blonde nods, his chest tight, his throat dry. “How are you?”

He smiles. “Terrible. Fucking awful, mate, thanks for asking.”

“Good.”

“I’m in Australia.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Your white dress flows in his dreams. It folds and stretches like the wings of a butterfly. The pages of his journal stare at him, his eyes heavy with sleep, but for once nothing pours out. He thinks he’s meant to keep that to himself, and perhaps that’s okay.

Instead he writes about a broken boy that smiles for the cameras but never for his love.

His older sister works as an intern for a law firm. He didn’t know that, because he never asked. The sting of it burns all the same.

She has a fiance, is preparing to buy a house, and tells him of his mom’s sickness at a private restaurant. He didn’t know that either, but in all fairness, as his sister pointed out, no one is supposed to know. At least not yet. It’s treatable, she quickly adds, but it’s been eating her from the inside out for a couple years now. She tells him this with a straight face, probably because she’s had time to sit with it, but also because Rachel is great at keeping her feelings in check, when she knows someone else isn’t—Felix definitely fucking isn’t.

What was the saying? The artist is haunted by his own heart? Day and night. There’s never an escape, it seems, from anything.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he pleads after he calms down. “Money is not a problem.”

The older sibling grimaces at that. “It’s not about that, Lix. She has medication, she never misses a doctor’s appointment. Her body is weak.”

“She’s not dying.”

“It’s not something we can exactly stop because we want to.”

Felix clenches his fists on the table, and looks at his sister straight on. “She’s not dying.”

Rachel wipes her mouth and sips from her wine, alerting the waiter for the check. People are starting to stare. No matter where they go, eyes follow her little brother incessantly, whichever measures they take. It’s a lifestyle she cannot comprehend.

Felix doesn’t seem to notice, or care. It’s a strange thing, like a zoo animal being at peace with its captivity, despite its true nature.

“Maybe not now,” she replies softly. “But we all must face this one impending doom sooner or later, Lix. Even you. Even our mom. Death is a natural thing.”

Most people run from the inevitable, because it’s scary. Somehow, it’s believed that the end, too, could be overturned if we stall it, or cheat it. Felix never thought he’d have to worry about it, because of the invisibility of youth, and money, and having everything else at his beck and call. It was only when Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley died that he was touched by the cruelty of it, the dark shadows and the claws attacking through them any moving thing, at any given time. Even legends passed, even history.

It was because life was so impossibly fleeting, water held with two hands, that he decided to knock on your door. In a single moment of liquid luck, he wished to see the stars in your ceiling again. To feel the warmth of your skin near his. Chan would shake his head and call him an idiot for it, but Felix never claimed to be reasonable. Or smart.

No other car was in your driveway.

God, his blood is rushing. You’d open the door and then what? What would he say?

He didn’t want his mom to die. He didn’t want you to hate him forever. He came back with a false sense of ego—no one gave a flying fuck if he was famous, or best friends with Hope Sandoval and Chris Cornell, hell, even Jesus Christ himself. None of it mattered outside of the bubble he’d created for himself in America. He’s not from there. These people would follow him nowhere.

He feels stranded and alone, and it’s entitled and pathetic, and he’s fucking terrified.

Who is he besides his name and his money? Why does it matter so much?

The door opens. He’s holding his breath.

You gape. Then blink.

Another moment passes. He has to say something. Goddamnit, anything!

“(Y/N).”

You seem to snap out of it, then. As if you realize it’s, indeed, not a dream. Felix is really standing right in front of you, blonde hair, round honey eyes, constellations on his cheeks as prominent as ever.

It’s confusion you feel more than anything else. Anger has long passed.

“How long have you been here?” is the first thing you ask him, and you’re still not allowing him inside.

He doesn’t expect you to.

“On your doorstep? An hour.”

You blink again, and lean forward, surprised. He thinks that must not be what you asked him. His ears burn. Your chest rises and falls deeply.

“In Australia, Lix,” you elaborate, but he focuses on the way your voice sounds like saying his childhood nickname, a silly little thing that stuck and makes him feel eight all over again.

You’d fallen in the rose bushes with your bike, the thorns pricking your arms, and you’d called out for him, crying. Lix, Lix, Lix… The sweetest sound, a person worthy to help you. A different time. He’d spent the rest of his afternoon picking thorns out of your skin and tending to your cuts with his mom. Afterwards, you watched Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and ate a bowl full of caramel popcorn. His dad dropped you off, and Felix had insisted on sticking his head out of his bedroom window to shout a final goodnight to you.

You’d done the same, laughing. His bestest friend in the whole world.

He didn’t feel like that person anymore. He didn’t feel like anything anymore. Just a name, just a body.

“Fourteen days,” he replies, and he’s ashamed of it, because it should’ve been easier to come to you. It should’ve never been difficult, not with you.

It was you, for fuck’s sake.

And then you ask him the one thing he has no answer to.

“Are you okay?”

You move for him to enter. It’s what he wanted, but his legs have no strength in them, he’s unable to lift them. He just stands in front of you, staring in those eyes he’s wanted to look into for so long, and it reminds him of all the times he laid in hotel beds trying to bring forward his memories of your features, writing them all down so he doesn’t forget. He wrote those songs to remember you, is what he wants to tell you, but he can’t, because it’d make him a coward, and he doesn’t think he can handle anymore truths tonight.

They call him an angel because of his face, but you’re the angelic one, you’ve always been, because there’s forgiveness in your tone. There’s warmth for him in you still, and it takes everything in him not to sweep you in his arms and cry out for you, for your heart.

He wants to tell you about Hyunjin, too, about his garden and his flowers. He wants to tell you he named one after you, the most beautiful. He kept that for himself as well.

Instead—

“I wanted to watch the stars on your ceiling.”

The possibility that you might’ve taken them down is devastating. He hopes inevitably.

His voice sounds rough, and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced than ever. You’ve never seen Felix like that, he looked so sickly. Paper thin, too. You wonder if that life over there caught up to him, if he allowed it to wash over everything you loved about him. He’s such a stripped down, quiet version of him right now, in front of you.

“I’ll make some milkshakes,” you nod towards the kitchen.

He finally lifts one leg, then the other. He enters, his heart dusting off, kickstarting.

They still taste the same. The furniture is the same, the pictures of him and you and your siblings are still on the wall. You haven’t erased him, you didn’t scorn him. It means everything to him.

It’s easier to find yourself if someone already knows who you are. If they’ve kept that image of you, and look at it from time to time. Felix never sees himself in photos, never actively seeks himself out. He just gives, and gives, and gives, hoping it’s enough, hoping that’s it, the one, we got it, thank you very much.

Perhaps it’s why he feels so drained nowadays. Perhaps that’s how Hyunjin felt.

“How are your parents?” he asks, hoping to make conversation, hoping to hear more of that voice he’s missed so fucking much.

You round the kitchen island, strawberry shake in hand, and sit right next to him, knee brushing his. Your legs are bare again, smooth. You’re wearing an olive green skirt and an oversized T-shirt. You look beautiful. You, the starry girl. You, the darling girl. You, the only version of girl he’s had in his mind since the dawn of time. Ring pop in the fifth grade, backyard wedding with a veil and all. His mother had cried, yours had baked the cake. His sister had married you.

There’s a question in your eyes now.

“They’re fine. Out celebrating their thirtieth anniversary or something crazy like that.”

It’s a wild thing, the laugh that escapes him. It stretches his face and curves his lips. It surprises both of you. He quickly looks at his chocolate milkshake, at the half eaten whipped cream at the top. He hears your soft exhale, the straw between your teeth.

“Good for them,” he says after a beat, and he means it.

“You…” Felix doesn’t dare look. He won’t. Your counter is marble, there are fresh lilies on top of it. “Are you staying a while?”

He nods. Struggles to swallow.

Then you sigh. The pretenses are down. He stiffens, wraps his fingers tighter around the glass. He braces, but he doesn’t know for what. Anything, he supposes. You could say anything, ask anything.

He just doesn’t know if he has any answers for you.

“Congrats on that Grammy,” you bump him with your elbow, your tone light. His eyes rise slightly to meet yours. You’re smiling.

He wants nothing more than to fall apart, right there. He doesn’t deserve any of it.

“It’s yours,” he mutters. “I was going to give it to you.”

“Me?” you ask incredulously. “It’s your song, Lix.”

He shakes his head once. “But it’s for you. I’d be nothing without you.”

The room goes silent. Felix thinks he’s done it, he’s said the wrong thing, pushed too much, you’re going to kick him out, once and for all, and he’s going to have to look at you from his rooftop for the rest of his stay, he’s going to have to live with himself, whatever’s left, whatever’s there, never to hear your voice, never a third chance—

“Do you usually say intense things like that?” You huff out a breath, and his own gets stuck in his throat. “I’m— No one’s ever said that to me before, Lix. Don’t just say stuff like that.”

Suddenly, six years have passed, and you’re both adults. Felix has had a whole other life, has met thousands and thousands of people, is a celebrity of great importance, a Grammy winner, a million seller, with more money than he will ever need, this unbelievable thing has happened to him, a dream, a fucking rainbow bubble, and you’ve stayed here.

You’re still the same. And you don’t think that’s worth mentioning. Worth praising. He wants to shake you awake, make you see why he’s dead inside, why he’s come back, why he’s lost his fucking mind.

“I’ve never lied to you,” he replies, his gaze meeting yours. “If I’d never met you, I would have never gone to America. I would’ve never left.”

Somehow, you’ve become a curse and a miracle.

“Let’s go see the stars, Felix.”

Your room is the exact same, too. Not a single damn thing moved, the lace on your bed, the pink all around, the fairy lights by your window, the pictures above your desk, and then finally, if he lifts his head—

The hundreds of tiny stars sprinkled on your entire ceiling. Your dad had stuck them up there for you, after you’d gone to their bed crying, afraid of the dark and the storm outside. Now, with the lights off, you didn’t seem afraid anymore, but more so melancholic. It felt unreal to stand in this room with you.

First time he’d made love to you was on that bed. First sleepover, first fort, first kiss, first song ever written.

He didn’t even realize he’d been crying, not until he felt your fingers wipe the wetness away, your hand slipping in his, pulling him towards the mattress. Before coming back, he didn’t have a bed of his own. Hotel’s have been temporary homes for him, the tour bus his sleepovers.

His chest hurt, his sadness so heavy it pulled him down. There was no fight left in him, no other reason not to fall on that bed with you, lay next to you just like all those years before.

They shone neon green, alien little stars where they didn’t belong. Like him. He blinked up at them and they greeted him every time. He held your hand tightly on his own, his vision blurry, shoulders touching yours. If it was hot, Felix couldn’t tell. His heartbeat was deafening, the magnitude of the moment swallowing him whole.

No matter what he did, what had happened, you took his hand and showed him the stars of his childhood. There’s no words to describe what that had felt like for someone like him, someone that had once been something entirely different, and had somehow reduced himself down to this, whatever it was.

Three versions of oneself is two versions too many. He hates himself for what he’s done.

“Are you okay, Lix?” you ask once more, nothing but a mere whisper, but he hears you.

He thinks he might even have an answer for you.

“I don’t think so, beautiful girl. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix sighs, puts an arm over his eyes. It’s enough, what he saw. It’s enough for a lifetime.

“Leaving you behind. Giving all of me away. Falling in love with a broken boy thinking I’ll be able to fix him. I can’t fix anyone, (Y/N). I can’t even fix my fucking self.”

You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. The connection is still there, the tension in his gut. He’d love nothing more than to get you naked and have you whisper his name back, over and over, until he gets some sort of sense of reality back. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. He doesn’t even know if you’re single.

“No one’s holding anything over your head, Lix. Forgive yourself before it’s too late,” you mumble against his skin, raising goosebumps all over. Then you continue, “I’d be lying if I said I don’t still hate you sometimes. You’re going to leave again, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

He turns to that immediately. Places a palm over your cheek and makes you look at him.

“It does matter. I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up and I’ll regret it my whole life. There’s no amount of sorry’s I can say to you, sweet girl, that’ll make it all better. I know that. But I don’t want you to hate me.”

Quiet. Your pulse against his thigh. “You left.”

“I did.”

“That hurt me. All of us.”

Felix nodded, again and again. One truth harsher than the other. “I know.”

“To go fuck some model in New York and sing your little heart out to people that’ll never know who you truly are and how much you matter.”

There it was. The sacrifice of it all. Has it been worth it? Yes and no. Mostly no.

His lips curved with bitterness. “Yes,” he rasped.

“But now your songs are out there. Your beautiful voice is recognized.”

“Thank you.”

You buried your face in the mattress, crying onto strawberry sheets. He turned his body towards you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“You sold your own name.”

Dying would be less painful than you speaking all of his fears and wrong decisions outloud, in the one place untouched by misery.

“And I pay for that every day.”

“You’re not happy.”

He smiles when you search for his eyes. There are crystals on your cheeks, the cosmos hanging from your lips. “Not particularly, starry girl,” he retorts sadly.

“I’m not happy, either. What’s the point, then?”

It tore at him to know this. He imagined you were when he was far away. That you’d put him behind you, and continued on with your life, shining just as brightly as you always had. Lies are always easier in the moment. Just enough to get you through to the next. But never long term.

“Come with me,” he whispers in your hair. “See for yourself.”

“And get lost, too?” you snap back.

He shut his eyes tight, bit his tongue to lessen the blow. “Three months. I want to take you with me.”

“To the City of Angels.” A lyric of his, coming from your mouth. His heart leaped, and blossomed. You listen to his music. The music he’s written for you.

“You’ll fit right in,” he finishes, leaning into you. “You’ll find many like you, none like you.”

He felt your hesitancy, the need to pull away. He would do it for you, if he wasn’t so completely under your spell, willing to do anything for one more taste of you. Years in a place where he’s had to learn to get his way, have made him somewhat persuasive, a trait he’s not proud of, like many others.

The only girl he’s ever truly wanted is you. Burn him alive, then.

“God, I’m about to make a mistake,” you mutter before his mouth takes yours.

Hyunjin had asked about you. He wanted to know who you were, why you still had such a hold on him. Hyunjin had been possessive and jealous and sensitive with Felix. He felt deeply, loved deeply, and was very stubborn. He loved getting his way. The blonde tried to love him, gave him all he had, obliged to his every request, but ultimately—

Whatever was wrong with him ran too deep. It was impossible to love someone like him, yet so easy to fall, so easy to lose yourself. They’d done some work together, traveled to Paris and visited art museums. Hyunjin was a magnificent artist, a lonely soul. Felix could recognize that in him and still admit it was scary to be around him, scary in the way a rope feels under your bare feet, no ground underneath, no sense of security.

They broke up on a bench outside Sacré-Cœur, the decision to go back to Australia for an indefinite amount of time being too much for the model. There was still love there, there’d always be. Hyunjin taught him about the life he’d entered, how to navigate through it, to get what you want, and how to love unconditionally, how to become a slave for love, to seek it and to breathe it, and to feel it deep in your gut, with everything in you.

But it shouldn’t feel like that. It shouldn’t be all encompassing, choking, tying. It should feel like freedom, and this much Felix knew, because he’d felt it before.

Undressing you right now felt like that, the pearly gates welcoming him, the wings growing in his back. A map outlined but not quite yet explored, though he plans to change that. If you accept. If you agree to his proposal. His hands caress, his mouth following the fabric leaving your body, your breast, down to your stomach, your navel, your hip bone.

He pulls your skirt down, revealing cotton, and lays you gently back down, his own body over yours, hiding you from view. Your fingers unzip and push, and Felix removes his shirt for you. He knows he’s not much to look at, but there’s lean muscle and a solid chest where you touch, making heat bloom right under your fingertips. He could write odes about how soft your skin is, how tender you’re treating him, as if he never left, as if he’s never done wrong by you, and for a minute he pretends.

Then your hand wraps around his cock and he loses all restrain.

“You can’t possibly be real, my girl, are you?” he mumbles against your cunt, before he hooks his arms underneath your legs and digs right into your wetness.

You moan and writhe, and he never complies. He holds you tighter, keeps you in place and has his way with you until you’re begging him to stop, crying for him to keep going, nails digging into his scalp, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. Felix hasn’t eaten pussy in six months, hasn’t had yours in over five years, and he’s not about to give it up for anything in the fucking world.

His tongue laps, it fucks you slowly, it makes sure to get you proper wet for him, his lips slurping on your clit afterwards, finding a pattern you seem to enjoy, sucking to bring your orgasm forward and licking to settle you down, to tease you, until finally you have enough of it, and you come all over his mouth, breathlessly, your thighs trapping his head between your legs.

“Just for me, for me, for me…” he repeats peppering kisses all over you, his arms pushing him up towards your mouth, meeting you halfway for an open mouthed kiss. “Will you come?” he asks, pumping his cock in his fist, aligning it with your entrance. “My sweet fucking girl, will you come?”

“I have,” you say, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I did.”

“Let me look at you,” as he pushes in. “Let me see you, baby.”

His hips start moving, his cock reaching deep inside you, the stretch incredible. He needs you near, closer, so he lifts you up and repositions himself, having you sit on him, fucking yourself on him how you like. You find a rhythm as he wraps himself around you, kissing your breast, sucking on your nipples, tugging at the ends of your hair. Anything he can touch, all for you. Your voice breaks, his name cut in half, and he thinks he likes it best like that, not one thing but two, muttered by you, the death of him once and for all.

“Will you come with me to California?” he asks again, clearer this time. “Will you let me have you like this under their sun?”

“Lix…” you collapse as he takes charge, pistoling up into your soaking cunt, his cock so deep inside, so fucking good. “Fuck, please. Just please.”

“You need to tell me,” he groans. “I need to know. You need to tell me.”

He pushes you forward again, not once unsticking you from himself, and fucks you into the mattress, hard and fast. He’s after your high, he needs to see you, needs to witness you fall apart because of him, the same way he does for you, his muse, his girl, under your stars. You kiss him and hold him near, sharing his breath, his chest rapidly falling and rising, cock ready to burst, heart ready to explode, and you’re near too, he can feel it in his gut, he can see how your back arches, how your breath hitches, how your eyes open wide, head thrown back—

“That’s it, there it is, do it. Do it, beautiful, come for me, come on, let me feel you, God, fuck—I’ll bust, too, I’ll—”

“Inside,” you moan, shaking in his arms. “Inside me.”

Felix growls and does as you say, fingers digging into your waist, cock buried, and his head falls on your stomach. He’s pretty sure he’s having a heart attack, but nothing matters. You’re underneath him, naked. You still love him. You haven’t said it but you don’t have to; he can feel it, he can feel it like his own pulse.

He fucks you through the ripples of your orgasm, and then he pulls out, kissing your temple, your breast on his chest. Whatever dreams are made out of, he’s convinced you’re it. His dream, a girl just for him, a girl he could pick out blindfolded from a crowd of thousands. He would always come back to you, because there’s simply no beginning to him if you’re not part of it.

And no end if you don’t come with him.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me no,” he whispers into the dark, the stars staring back. “I’ll understand. I’ll make it work, there’s no question about it. Not anymore.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but your lips kiss his jaw, his neck, his ear. He holds onto sanity because of that. Because he’s lying through his teeth, for the first time. He won’t understand. If you don’t come, he’s not sure he’ll be able to carry on with this persona he’s built. It will destroy him, take him down under.

That he’s sure of.

But he thinks of your precious heart. What it would be like to leave it all behind.

“I’ll come,” you say incredibly small, almost inaudible. “I’ll come if you want me there.”

Felix closes his eyes, relief washing over him. No more suffering, endless tossing and turning. He could finally have a life, maybe buy some property, make a house out of you. With you. With you. It sounded unachievable. A wish unable to be granted. Merely anything.

You’re breathing it all back to him.

“I need you there, starry girl. I love you.”

He feels you nod, but you don’t say it back. It cuts through him, but he understands. He doesn’t need to hear it, despite how desperate he is for it. It pours out of you, it started when you opened the door, and it continues to pour out now, with his cum gushing out of your cunt, your arm hugging him tightly, afraid to let go.

“Three months,” you say. “Please don’t make me regret it, Lix.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @j-0ne25.

#straykidsland #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #felix scenarios #felix smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz felix #stray kids felix #felix skz #stray kids #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #felix x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #hyunlix #mine.

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not---meat · 8 months ago

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Paradise: Chapter 12: Falling To Pieces

Pairing: Javier Peña x McKenzie Martel

Rating: A - Adult

Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, domestic abuse

Summary: Javier takes Kenzi home.

Note: I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies. We are in the mid to late 90's now woooo. Officially after the events of season 3 of Narcos!

MASTERLIST --- PARADISE MASTERLIST

Steam rose from the coffee cup between her hands. A mind so troubled, it drifted away from her, wandering off into the depths of her being as shye waited for him to speak. To say something. Anything. McKenzie knew the peril that he was facing. She had seen it on his face the moment he saw her. The way that he reacted when she winced away from his touch.

They sat in silence for a while, his eyes scanning over her, taking in the bruises, taking in the split in her lip and her tear stained cheek.

"I don't understand, Kenz." He whispered, "How did you let it go this far?"

The emotion in his voice told the story of the heartbreak he felt. Seeing her this way was hurting him and she knew it. She knew that, if she were a better person, she shouldn't have called. At the end of the day, though, he was still her person. Her Cradle to Grave. There was nobody else that she could call.

"Kenz…" He spoke again, reaching out to her, touching her hand and trying to grab her attention. "Kenz, it's okay. I've got you."

Slowly, ever slowly, her eyes flickered to him, flickered about his face. Somehow Javier still looked the same. Somehow he had left and come back the same as she remembered. Yet there was something different in the way that he spoke to her. Something deeper, more compassionate. More caring. As if his words had more meaning to them.

Tears rolled from her eyes and she looked out the window of the diner once again. There was nothing that she could say, no explanation to be made.

"I love her." McKenzie spoke, her voice soft, broken and cracking, "I love her and… I - I thought she loved me."

Deep brown eyes filled with emotion stared over at her, meeting hers when they flickered back into his direction. Javier didn't say another word. A sigh passed his lips as he pulled out his wallet and left money on the table. He stood from his spot and walked over to her, offering her his hand.

"Come on, hermosa, let's take you home." Javier spoke, taking her hand into his. She stood, looking up at him with wide eyes. "To the ranch. Not to her. I won't let her hurt you again, Kenz. Never again. I made a promise to be there and I'm going to be there."

Kenzi opened her mouth to argue but Javier stopped her, shaking his head. He led her back to the truck, helping her into the passenger seat.

There was silence when they sat in the truck together. The both of them recalling the emotions, the memory of the last time she was sat beside him. The rain feeling too familiar to the both of them as it pinged off the cab of the truck.

Like a brutal reminder of the past. A horrific scene that brought them back to when she walked away from him.

Please don't leave me like this.

You don't have to love me back.

White knuckles folded around the steering wheel, hardly moving as he drove down the road. The radio played a song that Kenzi didn't recognize. Something about being broken. Kind of perfect. Not a word was spoken, letting the soft guitar ring out between them. Javier seemed to know the song, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing slightly as he tapped along to the beat of the gentle tune.

Kenzi just stayed quiet, occasionally glancing his way as he drove down the pavement road leading to the ranch. It was Javier who spoke first, ending the silence between them with a barely audible, low whisper that was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain pinging against the cab of the truck.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't look at her, his gaze still fixed ahead of him as he leaned back in his seat.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't… Fuck. I shouldn't have left. I should have fought for you." Javier breathed, finally looking over at her, sadness reflecting in his big, brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Kenz. I'm so fucking sorry."

Words escaped her. Instead of saying a word, Kenzi just closed her eyes. She leaned against the seat and breathed out. The throbbing in her eye had gotten worse.

She just wanted to sleep. She just wanted to forget. The events of the night having taken their toll, McKenzie just wanted to curl up and let her dreams take over.

Noticing her silence, Javier let out a sigh. He unlocked the truck doors and slid out, shutting the door behind him. As Kenzi pulled off her seatbelt and moved to open the door, Javier was already there, opening the door for her, offering her his hand to help her out of the truck. Doing the things he had always done before but now they seemed like they meant more. Like he meant more.

It almost felt as though his touch had gotten more tender, as if the reasoning behind his actions meant more than they did before. Or maybe McKenzie was reading too deeply into it. At the end of the day his actions hadn't changed. Javier had always opened the door for her. He had always taken her hand and helped her out of the truck. This wasn't a new thing and yet, for reasons unknown to Kenzi, it felt like it meant more now. More loving. More tender. It wasn't just a friendly touch anymore. It was something more.

Unspoken words that, had they been revealed long ago, could have changed the trajectory that their lives had taken and yet now they just hurt. Broken hearts. Broken friendships. Yet Javier was still there, still keeping up his promise. Kenzi still called him even though she knew she had no rights to do so. Javier still showed even though he knew he had no rights to still love her.

But he did. He still loved her and she still loved him.

Not that it mattered anymore. Not that any of it mattered anymore. Too much had happened now and Kenzi wasn't in the right state of mind to let anything else happen. She hadn't spoken. She didn't know what to say.

Wordlessly, Javier led Kenzi into the house. He led her through the front door and helped pull her jacket off of her. He hung it up to dry and held her hand as she stepped out of her shoes. Kenzi watched him, noticing the small things he did. Noticing the way he made sure that her shoes were set to the side to dry, that the shoelaces were undone so they didn't crust up and dry in the tied position that they were in. She noticed how gentle his touch was when he led her throughout the house, walking past Chucho without a sound, knowing that a conversation with him could happen later.

Javier led her to his bedroom and let her sit on the edge of the bed. He kneeled in front of her and helped her out of her soaked jeans, tossing them into the hamper. Not a word was spoken between them. Not a sound made. He did everything she needed him to do, even helping her get into some of his pajamas.

All Kenzi could do was watch, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. How was it that she deserved him? After all that he had done, after all that she had done, after all of the bitter words and hatred passed between the two of them. How was it that he still cared for her?

Almost as if he had read her mind, Javier took her hand in his. He reached forward and ever gently wiped her tears with her thumb, smearing the wetness across her cheek and being careful not to allow the salty tear to touch the cut over the bone.

"I care about you, McKenzie. Nothing has changed. You're still the person I care about the most." Javier whispered to her, squeezing her hand gently. "You need to sleep, Kenz. Get comfortable, okay?"

He stood from the bed, glancing back at her before leaving the room. All Kenzi did was stare, her eyes flickering around his bedroom. Frames pictures of his life scattered about the walls and the surfaces, almost all of them including her. Smiling faces and shimmering eyes. Life was simpler then. Easier. Out of them all, though, one stood out the most.

Without even thinking about it, Kenzi stood and walked to his dresser, picking up the picture that she didn't even know existed. It was of them, of course, sitting in Chuchos livingroom.

A box of pizza in front of them, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder, with Javier looking up as Kenzi sat with her eyes closed.

"That was the night after grad." Javiers voice rang through the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. "We had just gotten back from the grad party. Your date had ditched you so I spent the night with you listening to music. You were drunk and falling asleep. I had to carry you to bed."

Kenzi nodded slowly, setting the picture frame back down where she found it. "I barely remember that night."

"I know."

"I didn't know this picture was taken."

Javier chuckled, the hint of a smile on his lips, "I know that, too. You were falling asleep. Chucho took it. We got some old films processed and… well there it is." Javier handed her the glass of water and an ibuprofen, "For your head. I don't doubt its going to hurt and swell tomorrow. I can take you to the clinic tomorrow."

Kenzi took the pill and popped it in her mouth, she used the water to wash it down and handed him the empty glass. "Thanks. I should… probably go home tomorrow, though. I don't want to make things worse than they already are."

Javier frowned slightly, clearing his throat. "Why don't you sleep on it, Kenz. We can talk about it tomorrow. Do you… need anything else?"

"No. No I should be alright, thank you." McKenzie offered him a small smile before making her way back over to the bed. She sat down on the edge of it, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared up at Javier. "Are you sure you're okay with me sleeping in here? I… I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

Javi pursed his lips slightly, shaking his head. He walked over to her and lifted her chin with his finger. "You get sleep. You need sleep. You've never slept on the couch here and tonight is not the day that you will start. You sleep in the bed. No arguments."

McKenzie stared up at him for a minute, eyes flickering about his face as she took in his words. "Okay." She whispered, "Okay. Just… Get rest. Get good rest."

Javier smiled softly, gently booping her nose before pulling away. He walked over to the door and leaned against the doorway for a moment, looking in at McKenzie as she slid onto the bed and pulled the blanket over herself.

"Cradle to Grave, Kenz." He murmured, flicking of the light, "No matter what."

NEXT CHAPTER

#fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #original character #narcos fanfiction #pedro is daddy #narcos #pedro pascal character fanfic #paradise #javier pena x oc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña

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warsamongthestars · 1 month ago

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"Your characters are defined by their stories, and the story is defined by the characters' actions." - Stephen Koch, Writer

If Homestuck has taught me anything about story analysis (and you know the red flag is up the moment i mention mother-lovin' Homestuck), is that there are four fundamental elements to a story: The setting, the characters, the plot and the pacing.

And they aren't just singular, walled off elements either--a character can have all four (Setting equals Aesthetic, Plot equals the story that defines them, Pacing equals how long their personal story beats either need or last).

A character often needs all four.

If you've seen My Little Pony Friendship is Magic, or the 1984's Transformers, or any number of animes (Fullmetal Alchemist, Soul Eater, My Hero Academia), or superheroes either comics or shows (Superman, Batman, Teen Titans, Xmen, Spiderman)...

... Those are examples of characters embodying all four basic elements of story telling.

The stories they're involved in also contain all four. The character of a story is often the genre and message or various messages it produces, as well as the rules it follows. The aesthetic of the story is the style, and the setting is the locale, the tools and vehicles, the buildings, ecctra. Then there's the pacing, both the beats the story takes, as well as the basic structure of Beginning-Middle-End. And the plot is the action taken and the recognizable pattern of the story.

[ pointed subject matter below--for my general audience, you know what its gonna be at this point. ]

A step by step analysis requires its own posting, and I don't have the feckin energy for that right now.

And simply sum up, this is why parody 1 hour-something-minutes film Galaxy Quest from the 90s? Outpaces 3 years of the Bad Batch by miles.

Galaxy Quest dedicates its time to taking character seriously, no matter the circumstance. This has elevated the film from its presumed parody-of-star-trek status, straight into "generally accepted as part of Star Trek lore".

Things happen because our characters are flawed, out of their depth, and shenanigans happen for reasons that are obvious and unassuming in view of the audience, and facing threats that out of their league, but manage to succeed.

The Bad Batch, however, adds Nothing to Star Wars. The character that was developed throughout the Clone Wars (Which did add considerably to star wars lore), was effectively broken down in the Bad Batch narratively.

"Things happen because imaginarium". Things happen because the plot wants it, and in the process, destroys the character.

The Bad Batch, in this instance, follows parody rules.

Where there is no character, but plenty of plot. Plot in this case, is less identifying story-patterns and action--and more "the narrator wanted this character to be here and that's why they're there". There is a logic, but its only general story logic, and does not follow the characters at all.

Thus, the Bad Batch is a Parody, but one that lacks normally expected Comedic Elements. There are plenty of comedic elements, in the form of one liners and strawmen and straightmen, but for the most part, all are serious action based Parody.

Characters is effectively destroyed, for the wants of its paid authors, and it is purely plot-driven. Things happen, because. Now many people have give their all in finding out the Because, and those are very interesting Becauses--but the story doesn't give a because.

( I can give my own Becauses, but those are mine, and the story needs to stand on its own without them, and it Doesn't. )

When it comes to character driven story telling, the plot is the goal of the characters. (The story ending is simply where the author simply deems it the point where one adventure of many simply ends for this viewing--the goal doesn't necessary need to be achieved, think short term long terms goals, but simply the act of reaching it).

Now a simple story, a character can simply go from point a to point be without trouble. What makes the story complex, is the shenanigans that get in the way. Sometimes reasonable, given backdrop, other times, absolutely silly because predicting reality is a farce.

The general Goal of the author is not relatability, though you are free to make it one, but merely the entertainment of themselves and the audience. After all, if you aren't entertained, you won't pick up the pen to write, and you won't pick up the book to read.

Depending on who your audience is, (and your first audience should always be You, You're makin' the fuckin thing--put out what you want to see), will depend on the level of reasoning in the work on what goes on the story, as well as the level of shenanigans, hijinks and seriousness taken.

And when it comes to the Bad Batch, its clear that the targeted Audience is actually not us, but Disney Corporate and Executives.

( Keep that in mind, when it comes to flighty subscription services and their snarky horseshit. )

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #galaxy quest #the bad batch #bad batch #narrative analysis #analysis #criticism #deconstruction

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henryloverman · 2 years ago

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I have thought of an Au lately, for now I will call it "90'sParable", It's like those old 90's movies, to be specific the same timeline in Cat in the Hat, but it's just about Stanley and Narrator, okay, here's my concept of this au I just made!

Stanley's life is perfect, he has a perfect job, a nice house, he has close friends who are always there for him, his family is supportive too, what more could he wish for? Well that was until his reality started to deteriorate.

He didn't understand how it exactly occurred, he was pressing buttons on his computer when it suddenly happened, he had just closed his eyes for a second and when he opened his eyes all of his co-workers suddenly disappeared?!

How could it be possible for everyone to disappear so fast? Stanley was so confused, after searching everywhere in the office, he decided to go outside, maybe it was a prank? Those things did become a trend after all, he hoped it was just that kind of situation.

It seems that his nightmare became reality, when Stanley got outside, he didn't see anybody at all, the streets were empty, all of the cars had nobody inside, was there an evacuation or something? Did everyone leave him behind? Oh god, Stanley started to panic.

His eyes became wet with tears, his trembling hands reached over his face, Stanley wished this was not real, he was about to scream for help until a certain phone call came from the office building, at the front desk.

Stanley rushed towards the telephone, he quickly answered...

-"Hello?"

-"Hi, It's nice to meet you, Mr. Stanley"

-"W-who are you? What's happening?!"

-"Don't panic just yet, the real game is about to begin"

-"What the fuck are you saying?!"

...

[ Please go to your office ]

...

[ The phone call has ended ]

Stanley looked at the phone line in disbelief, WHO WAS THAT PERSON? WHY DID THE TELEPHONE TOLD HIM GO BACK TO HIS OFFICE??? WHAT'S ACTUALLY HAPPENING? Before Stanley could continue to think, the walls...they had changed...it looked different...as if it were having a malfunction, everything around Stanley started to glitch.

The sky turned red, the building was starting to...look alive, as if it's breathing, the floor slowly but creepily moves back and forth, It's hard to keep his balance when everything feels...hazy, Stanley knew he has to go to his office fast.

He tried his best to run as fast as he legs could, the elevator isn't working when the whole building isn't stable, so he was forced to go up the stairs...well that was a horrible idea, the stairs looked normal but the wall, there were EYES looking at him, it only focuses on Stanley, he didn't dare to look back at the eyes and finally made to his office...

Huh? His office looks normal? It's somehow separated from the entire building, it doesn't look alive like the rest, Stanley could finally catch his breath, he sat on a chair nearby and closed his eyes, somehow this felt almost comforting, it's as if everything for a moment felt...Normal.

Stanley suddenly heard a sound, it was the sound of footsteps, quickly coming up the stairs, Stanley immediately left his chair and backed away from the opened door, he doesn't know who this person could be? Are they a foe or...an enemy?

It was a man, he looked like a normal person, although his glasses were broken, maybe he ran away from something? Stanley was about to ask him before the stranger beat him to it.

-"Who are you? Are you one who called me?"

-"...It wasn't me, they called you to come here as well, didn't they?"

-"Hah, so I wasn't the only one..."

-"My name's Stanley by the way, how about you?"

-"I go by the name, Narrator"

-"It looks like we're stuck here...in this weird dimension"

-Whoever called us is probably the one causing this havoc"

...

-"Hello there, friends"

-"You bastard! Tell us what's happening right now or else I'll fucking kill you!"

-"Wait! Calm down, Narrator, we don't know what they are capable of, they could hurt us!"

-"Your friend is right, how do you think I was able to do this all? hmmm?"

-"Explain."

-I will tell you after you completed this task first"

-"That is???"

-"This :)"

Suddenly Stanley and Narrator fell under a dark void, how the fuck is that possible?! The portal thingy dropped them somewhere off...

This place, it looks like Stanley's office?!?! Both Stanley and Narrator were shocked, before they could even comprehend their situation, a voice suddenly calls out.

[ Who the hell are you two supposed to be? ]

So this was their task, huh? After hearing that Stanley fainted from shock.

Editor's Note: Cliffhanger >:)

I might continue this Au or the RealParable, or you know...maybe both, a potential crossover! I hope you liked it ^^

This post took me a week since I had no idea where the hell this Au is going, LUCKILY my brain finally worked and gave me some inspiration! I'm actually proud of this one :)

Also the poll from last time, Yeah it's 100% a complicated relationship, but hey! At least they still love each other!

Thank you guys so much for the support! Although I don't know how to properly express it, so i decided a GIF might help with that ^^

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afvall · 3 months ago

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Whumptober day 1! Race against the clock

Nathan's T.O. is terminal :( and the whump wave starts in Oceania, baby!

Very mild body horror cw? It's really only alluded to happening in the future. I'll still tag it though❤️

Some sex jokes are made as well❤️

First x men fic, be mean!

Also ness is still dead in this one 💔

And title from the last unicorn!!

---

How can anything that is going to die be real?

---

Even awesome half-metal telekinetics from the future weren’t immune to the human body’s failures. Wade knew that he was the perfect candidate for all the cruelties the world had torn into his mind and body, the trauma and the cancer and the slipping mind, he was meant for all that. He was doomed for this life ever since he was born, the second he entered this cruel world he knew it was cruel and that that cruelty would stay with him his whole life. But he felt, in his cancer-ridden heart, Nathan wasn’t meant for this. Whatever it was that made it fine for Wade to suffer but not Nate beat him, whatever intrinsic value that differed between them wasn’t really something Wade could define and point to, but he felt it was there, and he felt that there was something far more hopeless and depressing in Nathan’s suffering. Maybe it was the way his smile lines interrupted smooth skin instead of indented and marred flesh, or maybe it was the way he’d managed to save his wife and daughter’s life, even if they were so many years apart from one another, maybe that was what made Nathan’s suffering worse than Wade’s.

Wade ran his thumb across the thin, tentacle-ish metallic string which crawled its way up Nathan’s collarbone, a strike of lighting which didn't vanish from the flesh toned sky it had impressed itself across. Nathan swore under his breath, the skin surrounding the metal intrusion tinted slightly redder than the rest of him. Wade understood that pain, the constant, ever present pain, that faded into the background eventually except when something put it under a spotlight. Whether the spotlight be from a flare up or from a time like this, as Wade drew his hand away from the fresh and tender metal-filled valley.

“Y’know, the tentacle sex alien STD or whatever isn’t as cool when it's killing your future boyfriend” Wade’s voice rang out, sounding more melancholy than he’d intended.

“Where’d you get tentacle sex from?” Nathan huffed amusedly, bringing one of his arms around Wade’s waist slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to love another, as if Nathan wasn’t being consumed by the T.O. quicker than his telekinesis could handle these days.

“Have you read issue sixteen of Cable & Deadpool? I get that the authors going for more of a movieverse vibe, especially since it's far more contained than all the convoluted comic bullshit, but i really do think that Fabian Nicieza gave us something special there” Wade’s inane fourth-wall shattering rambles would usually help him calm down a bit, diffuse a far too emotional situation when he needed it, let him soften the blow of all the bad shit that happened to him and the people he loved with humour and his general insanity, because if he let himself feel all the devastation and loss in his life in its entirety, he’d be a far more broken man than his marred and spoilt skin let on.

Nathan sighed as Wade’s nonsensical prattling concluded, pressing his body against Wade’s and now wrapping both his arms around his waist in a way far softer than all his hardcore 90’s action porn comics would ever let him be. Wade’s arms ran up Nathan’s back, one sliding over the corded metal muscles and the other over softer yet still battle-torn skin. The world was so quiet here, in their apartment, in spite of the sounds of the road and street seeping into the drywall, and Wade would keep it like this forever if he could. Quiet. In one anothers embrace. And that little pocket of time could protect Nathan from the virus which consumed his body. Protect Nathan, the idea would be funny if it wasn’t for the disease running over his flesh and wrapping itself around his organs, and the mental image of the T.O. invading Nathan’s innards made Wade remember the scans of his chest displaying the red sections of where his cancerous tumours were eating away at him. And how he’d lost Vanessa. And how he was going to lose Nate now, too. The only people that saw past the mangled flesh and unrelenting quips and comebacks to the person inside, who’d stand so raw and exposed under their love.

“It’ll take years, Wade, for this to get the best of me. I’ve been controlling it since I was young, it just gets more aggressive as it grows with me.” Nate’s head was tilted down by Wade’s neck, words pressing into the ruined skin. For a moment, Wade imagined Nate as a little kid, already battling the virus every moment of every day of his life, and thought, certainly, Nathan didn’t deserve that.

“I wanna be with you forever” Wade says like Nate wouldn’t eventually go back to his present once he’d fixed all he could in the past. With a time limit on his save-the-world shenanigans, this might just be Nate’s forever, giving every last bit of himself to the world in this time before he’d have to go, ensuring something better for his family.

Life is a series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness. This break would be spoiled by the unrelenting and sickening pain which seeped across Nathan’s skin and the knowledge it would all come to a very body-horror-ish end, and body-horror was Wade’s thing, but he didn’t want it to be Nathan’s. He wished Nate could just parade that sexy robot arm around forever, but his forever was coming to an end. Wade would watch Madame Web on repeat while having to cut off his balls with craft scissors for all of eternity if it was in exchange for Nate’s health and comfort, yet unfortunately no cosmic being has presented the opportunity to him yet.

“All good things come to an end, but that doesn't mean they never happened, and that doesn't mean you can’t enjoy them while they last, Wade. How about instead of wallowing in our pity for one another, we can have a beer and watch TV before bed. Sounds like a plan?” alright Nate, you got me.

“Sounds like a plan” Wade pretended that the metal under his palms and across Nate’s back didn’t make his chest a little tighter than usual as he heard those words, and kissed Nate softly.

#whumptober2024 #no.1 #race against the clock #x men #fic #body horror #cablepool #Cable #nathan summers #Deadpool #Whump wave starts in Oceania

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aotopmha · 1 month ago

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I beat Sonic Generations.

This game has some absolutely fantastic level design.

There were completely distinct routes I found in these stages I didn't ever remember seeing despite having played the game to bits around the time of its initial release.

I'm super impressed with the lower routes in particular. Some of them are incredibly elaborate.

I think Modern Sonic's Sky Sanctuary, Seaside Hill and City Escape stood out to me/impressed me the most.

Among several Sonic games I've played recently, I've also played a lot of Sonic Adventure 2 and as much as I adore the speed stages in that game, the "alternate routes" in those stages are often just really satisfying shortcuts to take (which Generations also has); the lower and higher routes in Sky Sanctuary Act 2 for example, however, are straight-up distinct sections of the level.

The lower route is a moderately difficult platforming challenge and the higher route is a reaction-based shortcut, which is a pretty common reward for the mastery of Generations' controls.

It's in these latter instances where you feel the flaws of the 3D controls the most, though.

Eventhough I felt they were better than I remembered, they still were not quite there when it came to precision.

Now that I have both fresh in mind, I think SA2 and Sonic Gens really do sort of have opposite issues when it comes to controls.

SA2 has an incredibly messy moveset. The homing attack often doesn't target accurately and the moveset mapping itself caused many of my deaths, as some moves are assigned to the same button, yet trigger at the wrong time.

Wanted to Lightspeed Dash? Bounce to your death instead!

While in comparison, I think Sonic Gens doesn't have as responsive base movement. Jumping and boosting have a very specific delay added to inputs at high speeds especially; precise movements at higher speeds are much harder to make because of the slippery nature of higher speed controls, as well.

It "makes sense" for higher speed to be harder to control, but the lower and higher speed controls do not mesh as well as I think they should, either. You're either pretty slow or immediately moving on ice skates.

Despite these flaws, unlike many truly bad games with truly broken controls, these two have a certain consistency and a strong foundation to them that I think is satisfying to learn/master and this is where a massive part of the fun of Sonic games comes in: mastering/perfecting the stages.

My initial goal going into the game was to get S-ranks in all main stages, rival battles and bosses. I managed it with all except two: Planet Wisp Modern and the Silver rival battle.

Planet Wisp Act 2 is just tedious and I didn't feel like replaying it to get the S-rank as of now.

The Silver battle, however, has a very particular issue to me: I can't seem to be able to close in on him during his 2D car attack no matter what I do, which means I have to wait for a very long time to get a hit in, which in turn cost me ranks.

I don't know if it's a bug, but I've seen literally no footage of Silver not being able to be attacked in the 2D section. Boosting and homing attacking should work, but it just doesn't seem to for me.

Other than these two, the S-ranks in Generations are incredibly easy. 90% of the time just not dying will get you the S-rank and I'm kind of underwhelmed they're earned so easily.

I've spent hours upon hours trying to A rank the stages in SA2 and when you finally get one in that game, it really feels like an achievement, something you've truly earned; I really hope they'll go back to that philosophy of a really difficult top rank because of it feeling so earned because as said above, that kind of struggle to perfect stages is a big part of the fun in these games.

Since I've recently also played the Sonic Advance series, I want to bring up Classic Sonic, as well, although, this is very much also related to my above point about Modern Sonic level design in that I'm really grateful most of the time failure leads to tougher gameplay sections rather than bottomless pits.

Bottomless pits and cheap enemy and hazard placement took a lot of enjoyment out of Sonic Advance 2 and 3 for me because it simply really undermined the satisfaction of mastery. With bad level design you do poorly for reasons not in your control.

And the Classic Sonic stages in this game are a great example of 2D Sonic level design because of this.

They are much more linear/set and a lot less sprawling than most actual Classic Sonic stages, but the 2D platforming within that linearity is still really fun to do and varying paths still exist within that linearity.

It also helps the stages have some really cool/fun set pieces.

The clock tower with the actual clock in Rooftop Run? The goalpost taken away by the torando in Crisis City? The truck in City Escape?

Classic Sonic is also pretty far from classic game control, but is still really fun in its own right with its super-power spindash and its own version of badnik bouncing.

Next, I want to bring up the bosses.

I'm torn between Egg Dragoon and Perfect Chaos being my favourite boss fights in Generations. The former is just a great Eggman fight, with very little downtime and satisfying hits and the latter is just a great reimagining of an iconic fight which originally basically had no substance; Generations turns a basically glorified cutscene into a full-fledged, substantial platforming stage and it's really cool.

Just like the (popularly) obvious Planet Wisp stages are the worst stages in the game, Time Eater is the obvious worst boss in the game; in fact I think probably worst level because at least you did something in all of the other stages while you mostly just sit around doing nothing for most of the Time Eater fight.

I'm so happy I S-ranked it on my first go, since I now have very little reason, if any, to revisit it.

In general, I really did enjoy all of the bosses outside of Time Eater, the rival battles especially were much more substantive than the usual homing attack spam fights you tend to have in the earlier 3D games, even if they still were fairly straight-forward.

To sum it up, Sonic Generations is still as great as I remember it being; I might even like it better now because the level design is just that good; this extends to all of the boss fights.

The controls are imperfect, but not to the point they start ruining the fun.

As I got deeper into the game I did encounter a few bugs here and there (like a possible strange one with the Silver fight), but in a bigger picture sense, Sonic Generations is also a fairly polished game.

I left out music, graphics and story above because I feel like I don't have much substantive to say about them. I think the environments look great, most of the remixes/music pieces are wonderful (except Planet Wisp Classic, that one doesn't sound that great to me) and I'm fairly indifferent to any story changes outside of a couple of lines coming across as strange.

Do I recommend it?

Yes! And I think I would recommend it to anyone who likes platformers (or even doesn't and just generally likes games). I think it's a great way to see if you'd like the series.

Now, looking forward to the Shadow part of Sonic X Shadow Generations (really awkward naming, as many have also pointed out). It plain just looks really good in terms of gameplay from the footage.

#Sonic X Shadow Generations #Sonic Generations #Shadow Generations #SxSG #Sonic The Hedgehog #Sonic Adventure 2 #SA2 #Reposting because formatting looked strange to me #also a few minor phrasing changes/additions

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randomvarious · 1 year ago

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Ian Pooley - "What's Your Number (Jazzanova Renumber)" A Jedi's Night Out by Tom Middleton Song released in 1998. Mix released in 1999. Broken Beat

Good morning 🌅. Here's the terrific Berlin future jazz group Jazzanova with a remix of Mainz native Ian Pooley's late 90s tune, "What's Your Number." It's a sweet piece of broken beat, which is a type of electronic music that leans sort of chill and has no prominent kick-drum to drive its rhythm, often choosing to go with unorthodox, complex, or unpredictable snare drum patterns instead. Lovely 7 minutes and change of it here, from one of my favorite mixes of all time, Tom Middleton's A Jedi's Night Out, which while being a play on the Jedi Knights alias of his own great Global Communication duo, also offered up a selection of tunes that might actually soundtrack a Jedi's own night out.

#broken beat #electronic #electronic music #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music

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fuckmeyer · 2 years ago

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"disturbed, depressed, inadequate": Edward Cullen & George Costanza, cringefail twinsies

as we all know, Twilight and Seinfeld are canonically set in the same universe. we see blatant clues scattered throughout both series. (e.g., Stephenie Meyer prefacing New Moon with the entirety of Jerry Seinfeld's opening stand-up from season 4's "The Outing;" Jerry making a Twilight reference in "The Soup" episode of Seinfeld, etc.) most notably, we see Edward Cullen & George Costanza's personalities mirror each other in a way that extends far beyond "pure" "coincidence." upon closer examination, they are the same person in parallel universes.

the two are, canonically, absolute losers seemingly broken beyond repair, self-saboteurs who waffle between moments of self-aggrandizement and self-loathing. their negative self-image, insecurities, & belief that they do not deserve love are recurring themes in their respective series.

among other things, George describes himself as "disturbed, depressed, inadequate," ("The Visa," S04) "completely insecure, paranoid, [and] neurotic" ("The Beard," S06). he is the self-proclaimed "Lord of the Idiots" ("The Apartment," S02) who is sure of only one thing: "There is no bigger loser than me" ("The Strike," S09).

in the Twilight Saga, Edward repeatedly calls himself "selfish" & a "monster." in Midnight Sun, he's a "coward" (37), "evil" (374) & an "obsessed stalker" (94). clearly depressed in the way he describes his "long melancholy" (138) as "an unending, unchanging midnight" (136), he quickly pinpoints the feelings behind his hatred for Bella: "What I really hated was myself" (26). his distaste for Mike Newton & jealousy of Jacob Black stem from his insecurity, while his paranoia has him assuming, among other things, that a meteor will crash down & bonk Bella out of existence (131). Edward's telepathy has him always on the alert for intruders, resulting in baseless conclusions. "Idiot," Rose calls him (97, 129, 145, 202, 314). idiot, indeed.

Edward & George's low self-esteem compel them to lie, unable to live up to the perceived expectations of others. after Edward saves Bella from a car accident, he lies to her to keep her away. "I had a show to put on now. I knew the role I would play—I had the character down: I would be the villain. I would lie and ridicule and be cruel" (MS, 90). beyond shielding her from his true nature, he is shielding her from a deeper truth: "I didn't deserve any link, any claim to her at all" (728). that is, Edward does not consider himself worthy of Bella's love. he even point-blank admits it to her at prom: "I'm not worth it." (782)

George, too, struggles to live up to assumed perceptions: “You see, this is what I do with women. I start out too strong, now I have to become real. That's when it all falls apart. What good is real?" ("The Visa," S04) like Edward, he engages in deceptive tactics throughout the series to keep his partners at arm's length, from creating falsehoods about himself to preventing his fiancée from fraternizing with his friends & entering his world. ("The Pool Guy," S07) Edward, more succinct, sends Bella the same message in New Moon: "My world is not for you." (37)

in fact, one of the few traits George & Edward possess that is not negatively regarded is their ability to lie. Edward's declaration that "I was not an incompetent liar" (MS, 77) seems an understatement when, not 10 pages later, he says, "Perhaps I was too good a liar if I could fool Carlisle" (85). he claims to feel guilty; then again, Bella often notes him lying outright or by omission in the series.

"I lie every second of my life," George brags in season 2's "The Apartment." "My whole life is a sham." other characters acknowledge & praise this ability. in the episode "The Beard" (S06), Jerry begs George to help him beat a polygraph test, calling his ability "a gift." just as Edward dramatizes his lying to "putting on a show," George likens his talent to singing opera: "It's like saying to Pavarotti, 'Teach me to sing like you.'" the advice he gives Jerry aptly sums up George's philosophy: "It's not a lie if you believe it." how fitting that this is the mindset Edward employs to stay in Bella's life a little longer.

George & Edward's relationships not only showcase their ability to lie but follow similar paths. George faces Edward's exact dilemma: the choice to deny his nature (to the point of becoming vegetarian!) for an attractive woman in "The Secretary" episode of season 6. "You're luscious," he says to a beautiful applicant for an open secretary position. "You're ravishing. I would give up red meat just to get a glimpse of you in a bra." George chooses not to hire the attractive secretary... but ends up sleeping with his 'unattractive' secretary anyway. Edward, meanwhile, does the opposite: he chooses vegetarianism and to date the object of his affection, albeit with personal turmoil. where Edward chooses to be the man, George chooses to be the monster.

unsurprisingly, however, their low self-esteem is a frequent barrier to their romantic pursuits. these insecurities even lead them to preemptively decide to break up with their significant other. in George's case, the breakup in season 3's "The Pez Dispenser" is a means for him to protect himself & regain control:

“A preemptive breakup. This is an incredible idea. I got nothing to lose. We either break up, which she would do anyway, but at least I go out with some dignity.”

Edward seemingly breaks up with Bella to protect her. he knows he will leave her by page 368 of Midnight Sun. by page 746, he admits he's lying when he swears he won't leave her. "[T]he time would come, I was sure now, when I would have to convince her [I didn't want her]" (747). best-case scenario, he thinks, she will outgrow him (781), though it's clear she intends on forever. despite the evidence from Alice that Bella will be a catatonic mess, he leaves...several months later, after a near-fatal brush with Jasper. one might argue Edward's fear of love & intimacy leads him to break up with her as a means to protect himself from the harsh reality that she will die.

ultimately, George & Edward's failures in physical & emotional intimacy are rooted, at least in part, in an aversion to sex.

for both, the desire to feed presents a barrier to their lovemaking. Edward is unable to prolong his kisses with Bella, citing his thirst. he compares himself to "an alcoholic" & Bella to "a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac..." (Twilight, 13). similarly, in season 9's "The Blood," George finds he is always hungry around his partner & can't make love to her without eating. his attempt to introduce strawberries, chocolate sauce, & pastrami on rye into the bedroom snowballs into him sneaking sandwiches into bed. though George, unlike Edward, can satiate himself without murdering his girlfriend, his desire to feed still leads to his demise.

this aversion to sex extends beyond a conflict with their baser selves, however. we see George & Edward's insecurities & low self-esteem take a central role in their inability to engage in intimate relations.

“I don't like when a woman says, ‘Make love to me,’" says George in season 3's "The Stranded." "It's intimidating. The last time a woman said that to me, I wound up apologizing to her.”

this quote perfectly encapsulates Edward & Bella's wedding night. despite being intimidated by Bella's demand for sex, Edward acquiesces. upon discovering he bruised Bella, Edward confirms his worst fears, calls himself a monster, and says: "I'm...so sorry, Bella. [...] I am more sorry than I can tell you" (Breaking Dawn, 61). he then promises, "I will not make love with you until you've been changed. I will never hurt you again." (66)

oddly enough, the bleak outlook Edward takes on his sex life (i.e., not possible (Twilight, 147) & unrealistic (Eclipse, 299)) mirrors George's feelings re: sexual intimacy in "The Pony Remark" (S02):

“You know, I've been thinking. I cannot envision any circumstances in which I'll ever have the opportunity to have sex again. How's it gonna happen? I just don't see how it could occur.”

is this aversion to intimacy with women a product of George & Edward being queer-coded characters? even if Edward didn't worship the ground on which Carlisle "the soul of [the] family" (MS, 96) walked to the point where he hopes his face resembles Carlisle's "perfect" one (24, 387), he constantly thinks of his creator & tries to live up to Carlisle's perception of him (28, 347, 383, 387). this seems innocuous enough until we consider the fact that the vampire genre itself has queer roots. vampires have always served as a symbol for social outcasts; homosexual depictions, from the 1872 novel Carmilla to the 2020s reboot of Interview with a Vampire, are a common feature of the genre. through this lens, the virginal Edward Cullen pushing away his heterosexual partner while he envisions Carlisle's face takes on different connotations.

George, deeply in denial of his sexuality, upholds odd "rules" to avoid being seen as gay, from refusing to sit "boy-boy-girl" in a car ("The Ex-Girlfriend," S02), to reminding Jerry of his "unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality" before declaring Jerry's new jacket "fabulous." (his singing show tunes throughout "The Jacket" (S02) still earns him the title of gay by another character, however.) he frequently goes into a gay panic: from being called out on his attraction to Jerry ("The Cartoon," S09), to being accused of falling in love with his friend Tony ("The Stall," S05), to being explicitly labeled as Jerry's romantic partner in season 4's "The Outing," he responds to challenges to his heterosexuality with anger, anxiety, dismay, & denial. he even shouts "IT [his penis] MOVED!" in response to being touched by an attractive male masseuse ("The Masseuse," S05). regardless of whether George may be gay or bisexual, George's record of "staunch heterosexuality" seems not as "unblemished" as he would like us to believe.

given all the similarities, one might think the biggest difference is their species: Edward is a mindreading vampire and George is a human. but George does note having an advanced sense of perception akin to Edward's telepathy: "I was personable, I was bright. [...] I was perceptive. I always know when someone's uncomfortable at a party" ("The Opposite," S05). additionally, while George may not be a literal vampire, he does have a parasitic nature. cheap & selfish, he frequently mooches off his friends & leaves them footing the bill. he also lies & manipulates for his own gain, including but not limited to faking a disability to have access to his own private bathroom at work ("The Butter Shave," S09), setting up a fake charity to avoid buying Christmas presents for his coworkers ("The Strike," S09), & falsifying statements to extend his unemployment benefits ("The Boyfriend, Part 1," S03). leeching off of others & the community is a hallmark of vampirism.

ultimately, the uncanny parallels between these two characters are impossible to ignore. George & Edward seem indeed the same person mirrored into different universes. so, what does this say about their creator(s)? this "coincidence" naturally begs the question: Are Jerry Seinfeld and Stephenie Meyer the same person? in Part 2 of this essay, we expl—

#i hope this crit analysis finds u as a brick crashing thru ur window @ 3am w/ a postit note written in blood that says 'i love you'#to all my ole twilight conspiracy theory besties: you are getting multiple bricks with lipstick prints on them. wya!?!?!?!?!?#come outside i have the corkboard & red string & mom says i don't have to be back until the streetlamps come on #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #the twilight saga #edward cullen #george costanza #bella swan #seinfeld #jason alexander #jerry seinfeld #twilight saga #twilight revival #twilight shitposting #fuckmeyer classic #FINALLY my compulsive seinfeld watching comes in handy #feeling alive and free rn #New York Times calls this post 'riveting. a triumphant return'#GoodReads gives it a 3.5/5 stars. “wish it was gayer.” - me too bestie. me too.#*jeb! bush voice*: please clap.

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