#glad to have seen it; don't intend to repeat the experience
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well that sure was a thing that I watched.
would I recommend it? Errrr.... I mean, sure, if you already hate Scott or would like to? I did like the Amundsen side of things very much, but I know far less about the actual history and sources there so I don't know if they were playing as fast and loose with that as with Scott's side. I do think the show has interesting things to say about legacy and truth in narrative, it's just unfortunate that I.... don't agree with some of its basic narrative choices
I will say, I thought the sets and costuming were fantastic, with so much attention given to recreating details from the expedition photos (special mention to birdie bowers' stylish hat). And look, I'm not Norwegian, but I did appreciate the show's commitment to casting Norwegians (or at least, Scandinavians who could speak Norwegian - I think a couple of the actors were Swedish) so that I didn't have to sit through dodgy RADA-trained accent attempts, and that the bits set in Norway were in fact filmed in Norway and felt like Norway. I mentioned in a previous post too how much I like a nice tall ship and on-location filming. The production quality in general? Fantastic 👌
things I will not forgive include:
Excising the winter journey. I understand that that's a whole miniseries in and of itself, but it's also prime evidence for the claim that this is a scientific survey and not just a race for the pole, and people who don't loathe Scott generally agree that he was legit excited about the scientific angle. There are perfectly sound budgetary reasons to cut it, but I don't like how its loss contributes to this image of Scott as only interested in the pole and not even good at that. Also I want penguins. Also I want Cherry to appear onscreen for more than two scenes.
The death of Edgar Evans. Yeah you can argue that the emphasis on his natural death under peaceful vigil by his companions, as recorded in the journals, is somewhat convenient, but it is certainly a statement to go No That Didn't Happen.
The final tent. Not including 'To my widow' or 'for God's sake, look after our people'. The fact that Scott is shown clutching his journal (and legacy), rather than having stowed that neatly and then reaching for Wilson, as the eyewitness record relates
Finally, look, I am not a Scott apologist, I have not read his diaries or letters in full, but the excerpts I have don't leave me particularly misty-eyed over his personality. but when multiple people talk repeatedly about his extraordinary personal charm, it might be nice to see some of that occasionally? Give me some indication of why people from Discovery were willing to go back to the frozen wastes with this guy. Why Wilson wrote that 'it would be an honour to drop down any crevasse in the world with him'. Something, please, for the love of god
#lee vs the last place on earth#and that's that on that#glad to have seen it; don't intend to repeat the experience#amazing how identifiable hugh grant is under three thousand layers of ice and wool even as a background figure
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I am not a system, but I have many friends who are and have researched specifically DID due to having those friends. I'm curious your opinion on me writing these prompts - as I don't intend to invade a space intentionally made to provide positive content to communities that I'm not a part of.
Firstly, you can do whatever you want forever, so jot that down –
Okay, okay. On a serious note, I think it's fine. Some disagree with me, especially when it comes to DID, but I don't think someone has to be a system, have any specific disorder, or be of/have any particular identity to write about these sorts of things. I am much less concerned with the identity of the author than I am how the character of a particular identity is written. That is to say, I am interested more in variety of plural and system representation, especially when it comes to positive or optimistic views on our lives*, than I am worried about whether the one(s) writing that representation are plural or a system, too. I care more about if the author is making a well-intentioned effort than if the author personally knows they're a system and openly identifies as one.
* I am comparing, of course, to the two main portrayals of systems in fiction: that we are evil (serial killer trope), or that we need to be fixed (fusion treated as the inevitable, and only, way for us to recover and live happy lives). There are ways to approach these tropes that avoid simply perpetuating stereotypes or disableism, and I would hate for anyone who relates to either to be told they cannot read or write about experiences similar to their own, so I am not saying these should never be written – but at the same time, with these being so prevalent, and so often without nuance, I am naturally more interested in fresh takes that show more pleasant sides of plurality, or at the very least more relatable struggles, than just more of the same.
With this in mind, I don't see singlet writers of plurality as an enemy. Rather, I see any inclusion of plurality in creative writing – from a simple OC kept to oneself, to a poem shared with a writers' group, to a bestselling series – to be normalizing plurality, introducing the concept to some and serving as a reminder of its existence to others. I'm someone who finds representation to be very important to progress, and thus I consider anyone who offers respectful** representation to be an active ally to plurals and systems. I would rather have a singlet writer make some mistakes while creating representation because they don't have personal experience with the subject than have less representation overall; if you're willing to write a character as a system, I'll be glad to see more representation out there.
** When I say "respectful", I don't mean it has to be sanitized or perfect. I just mean that it's done with research, and avoids relying on stereotypes, treating us like a horror trope or, again, like we inherently need to be "fixed" by final fusion – by becoming as singlet-like as possible. Again, looking for good intentions, here.
Besides, people who are presumably singlets will keep accidentally writing systems anyway, regardless of what I think. Seriously, do you know how often I keep coming across this? Sometimes I just sit and wonder how many of these authors are plural, and how many of them know it. Especially considering how often writers describe their characters as "acting on their own".
And on a similar note, I don't want anyone to feel pressured to out themselves as a system in order to write about plurality (especially considering writing about it can be part of someone's questioning journey). I've seen how that's gone down in places like the queer community (*cough* harassing authors into coming out even when it may not be safe for them to do so *cough cough*) and am not interested in repeating it here. You do not have to tell anyone if you are a system – and you do not have to tell anyone if you are a singlet. You have a right to privacy about your identity and what goes on in your life, no matter the subject matter you write about.
In the end, these prompts are for anyone who wishes to write about plurality. Or even wishes to write in general – I'm well aware that many of these prompts would work for settings in which everyone is a singlet! If you want to write them, you're welcome to. If you mess up, that's okay. It's pretty difficult for even systems to write about what it's like being us, sometimes – you won't be alone in that just because you're a singlet.
(On that note, there are plenty out there who would be happy to give more specific advice if there's any particular details or story beats you want feedback on! Cannot recommend @writing-plurals enough for this.)
Thank you for the ask and for your interest in writing about plurality. I wish you luck in whatever it is you're looking to write!!
TL;DR: it's fine lol don't even worry about it, just try to avoid stereotypes and negative tropes about us, and maybe ask around for a plural beta reader or sensitivity checker if you're worried.
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Oh yeah i agree the way i framed it as good authors vs bad authors was a very reductive i usually try to stray from that sort of framing (i guess you cna call that a bad writing moment on my part), i was trying to see the whole "it breaks my immersion" critisims in good faith, because there are stories out there you're supposed to immerse yourself in but just sort of fail at that, but i do find like you said more often its a fault of the audiance for not being willing to immerse themselves to begin with, like how people nitpick the logic of a story when the logic of the story is already pretty loose and established to be that way.
Its a lack of trust in the author/the work, which leads me to go "well why are you even engaging with the work if you cant give it your basic trust"
Also, I do belive in story telling rules but not strictly like some people do, i just sort of use them as a guide line and as a way of figuring out why i like certain thinks in stories and why i dislike others (eg. "The reason these characters dont compell me is because all of their relationships revolve around the MC". Something like that isnt automatically bad, but I usually dont like it in stories and figuring out thats what is bothering me in a story is pretty helpful for my purposes of trying to understand what appeals to me)
Its like music theory, there are many rules and many ways to break them but that doesnt mean a song that breaks a bunch of those rules cant kick ass, not to mention these rules can vary a lot based on region and tradition, but knowing them can still be helpful in identifying why certain songs don't appeal to you (eg "the melody lacks structure and doesnt follow the beat/ the melody is too repetitive, never iterating on the original idea and settling on simply repeating it ad nauseum" neither of these things are inherently bad but help explain why I specifically don't like this theoretical song)
Also yeah i tend to center author intent a lot, seeing as i see story telling as a conversation between audiance and author, however i do understand how this view centers the author too much and leads people to build up an often false image of who they view the author to be (i mean, this phenomena is common enough that someone made a game about it with The Beginner's Guide).
I been on the side of the author myself of this conversation im positing fiction to be, with some of my work being misinterpreted in ways more intresting than i originally intended and others in ways less intresting (to me). It's simultaneously a delightful and frustrating experience, but i like it when people think of my work deeply regardless of what conclusion they come to, as long as theyre thinking, i find it very endearing
I think i place so much focus on authorital intent because art has always been a way for me to communicate and express my self since my earliest memories due to me having difficulties communicatig growing up due to varios factors, its why i get annoyed sometimes at people misinterpreting my work, wven if im glad theyre thinking about it at all, i feel like i failed at communicating, and it especially stings if im trying to communicate something inportant to me
Anyway its probably more productive view it as a conversion between the work and the audiance rather than between audiance and author, yknow, to prevent parasocial stuff forming
Also youre so real for that emotional whiplash thing, i dont think i ever seen that critisicm applied in a manner i agree with. I think i can see where people are coming from (maaaaaaybe theyre engaging with a work that flips between dark and comidic and feel that the impact of the dark parts dont hit as hard due to the comedic parts, which sometimes *is* the point but sometimes doesnt work well due to poor implementation (tho even that is subjective)) but like i feel there is a better way to word that critism rather than just calling it emotional whiplash, especially considering a lot of works of fiction use those qucik shifts in mood as a feature, not a bug
Also exsuese the mispelling, im very sleep depreived, and thank you for humouring my ramble to begin with
when i tell u this ask comes from a universe i no longer remember... technically a day ago but in my mind? years. decades.
also, i can tell we are both The Over Explainer cuz i already assumed like 80% of what you've said here based on what you've already told me. lmao. like, we have both played the beginners guide like, i get it
#nnstuff#ask#not meant as an admonishment i just aint got much else to say#we're on the same wavelength so i basically just go 'yeagh'
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hopping on as someone who doesn't usually love enemies to lovers but shipped catradora throughout the show's run, and then kinda meh'd on it after, my problem isn't necessarily that there was abuse or messiness in the relationship - in a lot of ways, the more mess the better
for me, there was a lot of set up and not enough time to do the pay off, in one scenario i've never seen anyone been able to adequately dismantle my argument for (although if you can please do so! i'd be interested in reading it)
simply put: I think it's weird that there's a one-off episode in which Catra brainwashes Adora into being a weapon (S2 "White Out") and is pretty gleeful about it, and then when that plot point is repeated in the final season - Catra is brainwashed and turned into a weapon by the final big bad - the way those similar plot points are treated is very different.
I don't think it's a bad thing to have an antagonist or protagonist mirror each other - and Catra is She Ra's deuteragonist easily - and that parallels between her and Horde Prime, or even her and Shadow Weaver, are interesting and the latter are particularly well acknowledged. So my issue isn't that Catra mirrors the irredeemable big bad at one point, that's chill
My issue is that when Adora sees Catra be brainwashed, she's horrified and does everything she can to help her. The story, through Adora and Catra's lingering trauma over being chipped in the subsequent episodes, acknowledges that it was an awful and accordingly traumatic experience, that she deserves support as she navigates it, and that kind of dehumanization is just well, awful
So why doesn't Adora get that understanding and focus when she undergoes it? Especially when being forced to be a weapon, as we see in S4, is triggering and her intended Destiny as SheRa / a first one.
This was the perfect opportunity for the two to bond, and for Catra to acknowledge that she put Adora though that - maybe feel regretful and ashamed that she'd treated it so callously, refused to relinquish control, and made Adora attack her friends.
But the show doesn't do that, because the show is a lot more interested in exploring Catra's trauma concerning the shared plot point than it is with Adora's, and that was my personal breaking point with the ship.
(I actually think S5 would've been structured better if Catra and Adora had switched places for a lot of the plot points, leading to their romantic reconciliation - Adora and Glimmer get to patch things up, Adora sacrifices herself for Glimmer because that's who she is, Catra works with Best Friend Squad to save Adora, she has to fight an Adora who's not holding back at all for the first time, Adora can still unlock She Ra, Catra can acknowledge what happened in S2, they can move past it in a more developed manner, etc).
Jackie/Shauna from Yellowjackets, in which one indirectly kills and then literally cannibalizes the other, or Aaravos/Viren from The Dragon Prince (also a kids show) in which they engage in a magical blood ritual so Aaravos can manipulate Viren into dying for him, and also encouraging him to murde the child they have together, are not Sanitized in the slightest, but the fuckery is leaned into and the setup/payoff/pacing is, imo, something that She Ra was lacking in. Even Pearl/Rose from Steven Universe, and a lot of Steven Universe, goes into why good intentions or apologies is not always enough, which is an honestly messier take than "this character apologized so it's all good now".
I'm really glad kids and queer kids have She Ra growing up; I would've liked a lot more queer media when I was growing up. And queer media is absolutely held to a stricter standard then non queer media, for sure. But that also doesn't mean we can't take issue with how a queer story, 'sanitized' or not (which is loaded for the aspec community as a concept as well), doesn't always work for us as individuals, and that means learning to accept that some people are gonna have different breaking points with the Mess than you do - case in point
I also think She Ra has a deeper message than just "big lady with sword" - it does have meaningful things to say about breaking cycles, and growing past old behaviours, and second chances (things that were, I believe, not as much of a thing in the 80s cartoon, but I never watched it so I wouldn't know). How well it executes those themes is subjective, but that's always gonna be the trade off when a work takes on messier ideas/concepts to begin with, I guess
"we need less sanitized queer stories" yall keep saying fucking she-ra romanticizes abuse. you couldnt possibly handle less sanitized queer stories
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I Think I'll Love You Too II
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Chapter: 2/?
Rating: U
Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.
Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship
Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)
AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here
The following clean-up from their nocturnal experiment was far from easy, the wax seemed to crumble into tiny pieces and was determined to cover each inch of the carpet. George was insistent on doing most of the work, a struggle of manners ensued in which Ringo was adamant that he should help but eventually gave in and took up George's offer to relax in the bath.
Soaking in the warm water, Ringo's mind began to wander to their first official date. It seemed like such a long time ago now, although it had only been a couple of months at the most. Ringo could vividly picture arriving at George's house for the first time and picking him up for dinner, bruises still dotted across George's pale skin from the somewhat embarrassing but retrospectively rather comical fall at the club. Ringo had struggled to figure out the best place to take George, unfortunately the only advice available was John's.
"He's a vegetarian." Ringo emphasised for the fourth time, John had once again offered up a meat-only establishment.
"Oh, well you could've told me sooner." John scoffed, sometimes Ringo couldn't tell whether he was joking or truly that oblivious.
"What about sushi? That can be veggie, right?" Ringo was fiddling with a bouquet of flowers that had been left on John's kitchen counter, a small card had the name 'Paul' written on it, punctuated with a kiss.
"Sure." John offered "You could always, and hear me out, ask where he wants to go."
Ringo rolled his eyes "Great advice John, thanks. What if he doesn't know either?"
"Then you're both helpless and you belong together."
In the end Ringo had settled on sushi, which only calmed his panic somewhat because he still had to find which sushi place was best. He'd forgotten all about how stressful dating could be, and it'd been a long time since he'd been a proper date. Eventually he settled on a fairly affordable place that wasn't too far from his house, he felt rather silly calling up to make a reservation an hour in advance but he didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by not having a table booked.
This struggle with the restaurant left Ringo only an hour to get himself looking presentable for the date, his closet was emptied onto the floor and bed as he rummaged around for something suitable. He felt like making more of an effort than usual, this was one date he didn't want to screw up, especially knowing how fashionable George was likely to look. In the end he settled on a paisley blazer, it had been a gift from John years ago and had hardly been worn, and a black shirt underneath which he experimented with the buttons of.
He left himself just enough time to brush his teeth, sort out his hair and tidy the room as quickly as he possibly could. Hurrying over to George's in the car, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about the date itself. Almost forgotten, because as soon as he knocked on George's door Ringo felt a wave of dread washing over him. He hadn't even thought of any conversation starters, or what he was going to order at the restaurant. As he waited for an answer, the dread only festered further. Yet once the door finally opened, revealing George draped in a decorative kimono, all fear subsided.
"Hi." Ringo spoke, suddenly sheepish.
"Hey." George replied with a grin, stepping out onto the street and locking the door behind him.
The two of them looked at one another for a few moments, eyes tracing from head to feet with no words being said. George was wearing makeup: his eyes darkened with liner and mascara, his gaunt cheekbones sparkling with highlight and his lips painted a tempting shade of red. Ringo could see that he'd tried to use foundation to cover over the bruises on his face but it wasn't entirely successful, not that it mattered.
"You look great." Ringo managed to get out without stumbling over his words as they walked over to his car.
"Thanks, so do you." George responded but Ringo supposed he was only trying to be polite.
Passing a shop window, Ringo stole a glance at the reflection and found himself presently surprised at how good the two of them looked together. Ringo was even beginning to believe George's compliment, a surge of confidence arising merely from being stood next to George. He'd anticipated that George would only make him look worse, but there was something complimentary in how the two of them were dressed. It was a small boost that Ringo needed to quash his nerves, he was determined to not ruin the night just because he was feeling anxious.
"So... Where are we headed?" George asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"Sushi." Ringo replied more curtly than intended "Is that alright?"
"I love sushi." George answered cheerily.
"What a relief." Ringo chuckled "I'm not gonna lie I was struggling to find a place to eat, with you being a vegetarian and all."
George paused for a moment "You remembered that?"
"Of course I did." Ringo panicked for a moment, afraid he'd said the wrong thing and given too much away but the smile that spread across George's painted lips calmed him back down.
It didn't take them long to arrive at the restaurant, it was rather busy but not so much that it would become uncomfortable. Ringo still couldn't believe his luck, that he'd actually been able to get a date with George. Looking back on how their relationship started, it was strange to consider that they'd end up here.
"Is your face alright?" Ringo asked when they'd been seated, it was hard to not notice the swelling on George's lip.
"Oh yeah, it's fine." George provided evidence with a genuine smile "I've had way worse, don't worry."
"You fall over a lot then?" Ringo joked, looking down at the menu and feeling a little intimidated by the amount of choice.
"Only when I know you're there to catch me." George winked "No, I've had my fair share of scraps here and there. That's just life, isn't it?"
Ringo chuckled "Not in my line of work, no."
"Don't be so modest, I haven't forgotten when you beat up that creep in the club." George was studying his menu with far less fear than Ringo "Any idea what you're gonna order?"
"Haven't the faintest." Ringo read the same words over and over again as though it'd help him understand "What about you?"
"Hmm, I think so." George answered with a confidence Ringo envied "Want some help?"
"Please." Ringo smiled sheepishly, laying down his menu and looking to George for assistance.
The date was hardly going as Ringo had anticipated, but while George went through dishes on the menu with a clear expertise Ringo couldn't stop himself from smiling. The intimidating Spike was describing in detail the difference between maki and temaki with such delicacy, it was such a strange moment of realisation for Ringo that made him truly understand how far they'd come. Ringo realised too late that he hadn't been listening to what George had been saying but it didn't matter in the end because George ordered for the both of them.
"So..." George began, drink in hand.
"So." Ringo repeated with a raised eyebrow.
"How long have you been waiting to take me out?" George asked with a knowing smile.
Ringo half expected this line of questioning to begin, he only wished he'd prepared some answers "Does it make a difference?"
"I'm just curious." George leaned in a little closer, a devilish look in his eyes.
Ringo sighed "Now I'm debating whether to lie so you don't think I'm a loser."
"I wouldn't bother with that, I already know you're a loser Ringo." George spoke deadpan, staring without expression then burst into laughter "I'm sorry, I had to."
"And that's meant to encourage me to be honest?" Ringo laughed nervously.
"Come on, tell me." George sounded almost whiny, a tone Ringo had heard before but never in regular conversation.
"Fine, fine." Ringo conceded after drinking his beer "In all honesty it was probably the first time I saw you... Not that I thought you'd ever say yes, of course."
The answer seemed to satisfy whatever itch George had "Really? I'm that good looking am I?"
"Not to sound cliché, but have you seen you? I don't think I've seen anyone more attractive." Ringo spoke somewhat seriously.
George blushed just slightly, having to look away from Ringo's intense gaze "You're sweet. But why were you even in the strip club in the first place? You didn't seem too at home, at least from what I remember."
Ringo felt rather complimented that George even remembered how he'd been acting all that time ago, he'd always supposed he hadn't left much of an impression at all and whatever he did was surely negative.
"John dragged me there. He, uh-" Ringo stopped himself before saying too much "Thought it'd cheer me up."
George squinted his eyes in suspicion "What aren't you telling me?"
Ringo paused, debating the best verbal exit strategy but the good beer and even better food was slowing his thought processes "Uh... Nothing?"
"Oh come on." George kicked Ringo lightly under the table "You think I'm gonna judge you?"
"Well, yes... But fine, I'll tell you." Ringo chuckled, pausing for an anticipatory breath "I'd been going through a bit of a... dry spell, so to speak."
A grin spread across George's face "Seriously?"
"Seriously." Ringo repeated, hiding his shame behind his beer.
"I find it hard to believe that you were having a 'dry spell'." George rested his hand on Ringo's own, his finger tracing around the metal of the rings.
"Well, I'd, er- I'd still be having one if you hadn't come along." Ringo stammered "Shit, that sounds really pathetic, doesn't it?"
"Just a tad." George smiled reassuringly "I'm just glad I could be of service."
"For a while you were making it worse, actually." Ringo had finished his beer and was itching for another "With all my pent up frustration and then I see you undressing on that stage, I nearly lost my mind."
George chuckled, looking rather proud of himself "I can only apologise for being so tempting." He emphasised the word by running his tongue over his top lip onto his sharp canine tooth.
"No need to apologise, it's your job after all." Ringo tried to remain composed "And in the end it all worked out so... No harm done."
"My aching body disagrees." George pouted his still somewhat swollen lip.
"Well... That was your own fault really." Ringo joked, finally catching the waiter's eye so that he could order another beer.
"You're right, you're right." George's hand was still pressed against Ringo's "Hopefully from here on out all the pain will be consensual."
Ringo blushed "Hopefully."
Later that night it was clear that there was no longer any need to be hopeful.
#the beatles fanfic#beatles fanfiction#the beatles fanfiction#the beatles#starrison#george harrison/ringo starr#george harrisonxringo starr#ringo starrxgeorge harrison#ringo starr/george harrison
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Like An Amethyst
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Request: Yes or No
(Y/N) watched as the spoon levitated, his hands glowing a beautiful purple. He heard a knock on the door and turned his head.
"Hey, uh, (Y/N)? We have a guest for dinner today!" Gar's voice sounded through the door. (Y/N) stood up, dropping the spoon on his bed and approaching the door. He opened it, looking at Gar.
"Hey! Are you gonna join..." Gar trailed off as (Y/N) brushed past him, slamming the door to his room shut behind him.
"So, her name is Rachel and she's kind of like you! I think you two will get along." Gar said as they headed down the stairs. (Y/N) stayed silent, entering the diningroom without a word.
"(Y/N)! Glad to see you're not in one of your moods again!" Larry said, setting the table. (Y/N) glared at him making him raise his hands in surrender.
"Uh, Rachel, this is (Y/N)!" Gar introduced the two. Rachel stuck out her hand with a smile. (Y/N) chose to sit down instead.
"He's not very big on welcomes." Gar whispered to her. Rachel hummed, nodding.
"I totally get it." She assured, giving another smile. (Y/N) glanced at Cliff, noting how he kept staring at Rachel.
"For God's sake, Cliff, stop staring at the poor girl." Larry said.
"So, are the waffles crispy on the outside and gooey a little bit on the inside with just the right amount of butter?" Cliff asked.
"Ugh." (Y/N) rolled his eyes, scoffing and raising his hand. A small purple aura appeared around his hand. A fork raised up from the table and levitated over to him. Rachel watched him in awe.
"Try the chicken." Cliff said. Rachel did just that, getting some chicken.
"What does that taste like?" Cliff asked.
"Crunchy and moist." Rachel replied. (Y/N) was starting to loose his appetite.
"God, I loved fried chicken. I loved to eat, swim, loved to dance. I used to love dancing!" Cliff said. (Y/N) chewed on some waffles, tapping his foot.
"Why can't you dance?" Rachel asked.
"Oh, forget it. You're young. Nobody's dancing with this." Cliff knocked on his head twice. Rachel placed her chicken down.
"I would."
"Christ." (Y/N) mumbled. Rachel did a little robot dance. Gar and Larry laughed.
"She can stay." Cliff said, looking at Gar. The doors suddenly opened and Rita appeared.
"Sounds like everybody's having fun! I'm so sorry I'm late, I was putting myself together." Rita explained, walking over.
"You know it takes some time." She smiled brightly as she started to serve herself some food.
"I hear we have a guest from the outside. How wonderful!" Rita cooed.
"I'm Rita."
"Rachel."
"Delighted." Rita replied as she got spaghetti. Rita continued to get more food.
"I'm famished." She said, noticing Rachel's look. (Y/N) finished eating and stood up.
"Please, (Y/N), sit down! You're always in your room. It feels like I haven't seen you in forever." Rita pouted as she went to her seat. (Y/N) sighed, sitting back down. She thanked Cliff when she was handed a hamburger.
"My condition requires a particularly high caloric intake." She explained. Rachel nodded.
"Can you passed the gravy, please?" She asked. Rachel handed her the gravy with a smile. Rita poured it all over her food. (Y/N) rested his head on his fist, boredly watching them. Rita started to eat, smiling.
"This is absolutely delicious, Larry."
"Someone kiss the cook." Larry replied playfully. Gar looked at (Y/N).
"Thanks for joining us." Gar whispered to him. (Y/N) stayed silent, making his fork spin in circles. Rita suddenly stopped laughing, her face deforming.
"Are you okay?" Rachel asked.
"I-"
"Rita?"
"I... I should've stayed in bed." Rita said as she covered her face. Rachel reached out, touching her hand.
"It's okay. I'm not afraid of you." Rachel whispered.
"What the fuck are you?!" His father screamed, backing up.
"Mommy!" (Y/N) cried out. The toddler had no clue why everything in his room was levitating. He could see the fear in his father's eyes. His mother quickly pushed his father aside, rushing to her child's aid. Everything that was floating suddenly dropped as (Y/N) felt the warmth of his mother surround him.
"That... That thing... Is not my son!"
The fork fell onto the plate, loudly echoing. (Y/N) stood suddenly, making his way towards the doors. The doors opened and Chief stepped inside.
"Who is this?" He asked.
"I can explain!" Gar said, nervous.
"Later. I have a new patient." He replied. Everyone stood and followed him. (Y/N) watched them go. He shook his head, going up the stairs and into his room. (Y/N) closed the door and locked it, leaning against it. He let out a sigh, sliding down the door and bringing his knees up to his chest.
"(Y/N)!" He huffed, standing and unlocking the door. He stepped out of his room, looking down over the railing.
"Come join us for desert, my boy." Chief said. (Y/N) crossed his arms, going down the steps and following them. Chief spoke to Rachel but (Y/N) zoned out, eating cake and other sweets.
"(Y/N)..." Chief trailed off. (Y/N) looked at him.
"His story is one you should hear from him. Still a very sensitive topic but, he was born with his powers." Chief said. Rachel looked at him, eyes showing different emotions. It was clear that she had a lot of questions. Chief spoke about Gar's story and his science. (Y/N) bent his fork. He hated the tests. The experiments. They made him worse.
(Y/N) stared down at Rachel as Chief tightened her restraints. She stared up at him, visibly nervous. Rachel turned her hand, unclenching her fingers. She wanted him to hold her hand. (Y/N) looked away from her and at Chief. Gar got the case, handing it to him.
"No. No, wait, wait." Rachel stared at the instruments inside the case.
"I don't wanna do this anymore." Rachel said. Garfield glanced at (Y/N).
"This is for your own good, my child." Chief said.
"Let me up. Please." Rachel begged. Chief ignored her. Rachel looked at the two boys.
"Gar... (Y/N)... Please." She pleaded with them.
"Let me up." (Y/N) stayed still as Gar went to help her.
"Sit down, Garfield." Chief instructed. Gar stayed standing beside (Y/N).
"Sit back down."
"No."
"No?" Chief repeated. His eyes flickered towards (Y/N).
"She doesn't wanna do this anymore," Gar said. "I've gotta unstrap her."
"Leave this room. Now." Chief demanded. Gar growled, flashing his eyes and turning green. Chief shot him with a tranquilizer gun. Gar fell down, it taking quick effect.
"(Y/N), take Gar out."
"I think I'll pass." (Y/N) replied, eyes turning purple and glowing.
"(Y/N).." Chief spoke in a warning tone. (Y/N) made the case and gun knock Chief down. He moved around the table, raising his hands as the lights began to flicker. Rachel screamed, trying to get out of her restraints. (Y/N)'s hands glowed as he bended metal and made it wrap around Chief's neck.
"Take care of Gar, I'll deal with him." Rachel said in a voice that didn't sound like her. (Y/N) grunted but did so, going over to Gar. He woke him up with electrical shock as Rachel delt with Chief and lost a bit of control. A man ran in and spoke with her, calming her down. (Y/N) helped Gar up before shrugging him off and following everyone outside. They watched Rachel go with the two others.
"Both of you go with them. Go have a life." Cliff said. (Y/N) and Gar looked back at him.
"But Chief.." Gar started.
"His back is broken again and.. His neck is a bit fractured. We'll take care of him." Larry said. (Y/N) didn't need to be told twice. Rita handed them their bags. (Y/N) didn't bother with a hug or handshake, nodding to them. Gar grabbed his hand much to his dismay and ran towards the car, dragging him in. (Y/N) sat by the window, Gar between him and Rachel. He had a feeling it was gonna be a wild ride. No pun intended, I guess.
#x reader#x you#x y/n#x male reader#titans#titans dc#titans x reader#titans x you#titans x y/n#dc#dcu x reader#dcu x male reader#dcu x you#dcu x y/n#dc titans#rachel roth#dick grayson#garfield logan#gar logan x reader#garfield logan x male reader#rachel roth x reader#rachel roth x male reader#dick grayson x reader#kory anders#kory anders x reader
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Good Soldiers—Chapter 3/4
Remembering Yesterday’s Tomorrow (In the Here and Now)- Part 4 cont.
As much as Rex wants to move directly onto the next step in removing Krell, there is still a war that needs to be dealt with. Having Fives in his corner helps immensely as both a sounding board and support. It has taken a weight off his shoulders that he is infinitely glad he no longer has to shoulder alone. However, he had forgotten the specific brand of insanity that comes from working with his brothers, and while he is happy (among the other emotions that swirl dangerously close to the surface) to have them in his life again, it does, at times, make him wish his hair was longer so he could pull it out. Especially as he, Jesse, Tup, and Hardcase listen to Fives' infiltration plan.
"You want to what?"
He knows his plan to deal with Krell isn't perfect, but he hopes beyond all sense of reason that it's better then what he just heard Fives suggest.
"Have the men and myself fly the Umbaran craft into the supply ship and blow up the main reactor."
Last time, he hadn't asked for details. The thinking being he couldn't report what he didn't know. If this was the same plan that Fives had used to take down the supply ship, Rex knows why it went so horribly wrong.
"You are aware that General Skywalker was already one of the best pilots in the galaxy at that time? And that most of it was an accident?"
His brother looks sheepish. From his perch atop a table, Rex pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Despite knowing the answer, he asks his next question anyway.
"How many men are you planning to take up?"
"It would be us three, Sir."
Rex looks at Jesse who has momentarily looked up from cleaning his blaster to indicate Fives, Hardcase, and himself. The Captain unconsciously brings a hand up to stroke a beard that isn't there, thinking over the specifics that he was privy to the first time around — regretting his lack of involvement and the subsequent lack of information.
“If you have a better plan, we’re all ears.”
He thinks of Ahsoka, of her uncanny ability (force given or natural, he never knew) to plan on the fly. To take a pile of unknowns and somehow rearrange them until they created actionable intel. There was a reason she was one of the leaders of the Rebellion, and he, her right-hand-man.
But she's not here. Surrounded by a room of living ghosts, the only thing he has of her is his ring and the memories of advice they had shared. One in particular whispers across his mind.
Work with what you know.
So that’s what he does.
He thinks about the Separatist ships he's been on. The narrow passages designed for droids and not much else. Considers the size and challenges of the Umbaran crafts. Three would be a tight squeeze and tricky to maneuver in such a limited space, even with the best of pilots, never mind when operated by foot soldiers who considered demolishing a hanger a successful test run.
"Send only one pilot."
"Without backup?"
Tups concern is valid, a brother without backup was always a dangerous thing, for the mission and the soldier both. But he doesn't have a better plan, not one that would work with their limited number of men, resources, and time. He can only pray that what he can change will be enough.
Rex leaves that part out when he explains his thinking, although Fives gives him a brief side-eye. He watches as each man mulls over the idea, weighs the pros and the cons, considers their part.
"I'll do it."
His heart sinks.
"The Captains right, and I have the most experience with the tech."
"Hardcase, " He isn't sure what to say without giving himself away to everyone in the room. When he had first woken and started putting together his plan, he had considered that there may be things he couldn’t change, couldn’t make right. Hardcase it would seem, is one of those things. A knot of emotion catches in his chest as he considers the very real possibility of watching his brother's death a second time over. Eventually, he settles on the only question available to him.
“Are you sure?”
His brother squares his shoulders, easy-going manner set aside.
“I am, Captain.”
The room is silent for a moment, heavy with the knowledge that this very well may end up a suicide mission.
"What about—"
At that moment the doors to the barracks open, cutting Jesse off mid-sentence, revealing Dogma, head bent over a datapad and lips silently moving.
The collective group freezes, including Dogma who seems to realize he has the full attention of everyone in the room. His head snaps up and eyes go wide, jaw clicking shut, and for a second Rex thinks he can see fear in his brother's eyes. But his time to observe is limited, as Dogma, without so much as a word, about faces and leaves the room with the speed of a man being chased by cannon fire.
The group exchange glances and all Rex can do is shrug at the inquiring look Fives sends his way, just as stumped by his brothers behavior as the rest of them. He had expected suspicion and anger, or even the cold shoulder. Those he could understand, but fear?
He shakes himself internally. His concerns about Dogma hardly the top of his priorities at the moment.
"What about Krell?" Jesse repeats, looking between Fives and Rex in equal measure.
"We need a Jedi."
Hardcase scoffs and crosses his arms.
"Yeah, I don't know if you noticed Captain, but they're in short supply."
"I'm just saying that his ability to receive transmissions with new orders is awfully convenient, considering they're supposed to be being jammed."
Jesse looks up from cleaning his blaster with a critical eye.
"You think he's lying about communications with the 212th?"
Rex nods.
"It's a possibility. And it won't hurt to try and get General Kenobi here to assist."
"I think, " Tup starts slowly. "That I might be able to convince a few of the men to try and establish contact against orders. No promises, though."
Rex looks over to Fives, who nods in agreement.
"That's all we can ask for Tup."
Tup inclines his head at the ARC Trooper.
"And what if, and that's a karking large if mind you, we can't get the General to assist?"
Rex sighs.
"Plan B and prey."
----
Dogma was acting strange.
Usually, Tup wouldn't have paid much attention to his brother's odd habits. But he had never seen him that upset before or that close to exchanging blows with another brother. He understands Dogma's anger; he does. Is still reeling from the implications himself, even though nothing he heard really surprised him when he thought about it. But he also understands, as best as he can understand his brother, why it would affect Dogma more than the rest. He’s aware that he is the closest to Dogma, one of the few Vod’e who took the time to get to know the tightly wound trooper. And as a result, is far more used to the quirks of behavior than most and has learned to read Dogma with some degree of accuracy.
But he’s not sure what to make of his brother's recent behavior; walking into rooms, only to turn back around when he spots any of them, constantly reading at every available opportunity. Not that Dogma hadn’t done his share of recreational reading, but this was something different. The few times Tup had found him in the past hours, Dogma seemed to be enthralled, reading as if his life depended on it.
And now he is missing from his bunk.
It feels like avoidance, but never in his short life has Tup known Dogma to do anything less than face a problem head-on.
It concerns him, for Dogmas sake. His one consolation being that he knows his brother would ask for help if he needed it.
Whatever it is Dogma is up to, he only hopes it won't cause a problem for the Captain.
-----
Watching the sky for the impending destruction of the Separatist ship is by far the tensest twenty minutes of Rex’s life, and he intends to spend them with his eyes glued to the sky as if he might be able to see the raging space battle and the one small ship that contains his brother if he looks hard enough. Futile, he knows, but it's all he can do. The troops mill around him, coming and going at their own paces, running information back to the main tower, or just enjoying what rest they can in the middle of a war zone. At some point, Fives joins him.
"Any word?"
"Not yet, Captain."
"Any sign that Krell suspects?"
Fives shakes his head.
"No, Sir. I don't know what you told him about the takeoff, but he doesn't seem suspicious."
Rex didn't expect he would be, since he's almost certain that Krell knows what they are doing despite the lie Rex had fed him. Suspects that Krell knew the first time too, and that everything that followed was designed to torture himself and the men as much as possible.
They laps into silence and Rex returns his focus to the sky.
"Permission to ask a question?"
Rex glances at his brother, gauging the request.
"Granted."
"How did this mission go, last time?"
Fives is looking at him, but Rex can't meet his eyes and hopes that his brother will let the topic go with a simple answer.
"It was a success,"
"Rex, " The plea is soft, and it strikes him how much younger his brother is; the gap between them able to be measured in decades instead of a few years. Aware that behind the bravado and the swagger, Fives is as scared as Rex, wondering if he just sent his brother to his death.
He's hesitant to talk about it, the memories from Umbara old wounds that never fully healed. The sound of distant artillery and shelling only hammers home the futility of attempting to avoid them.
"I wasn't as involved last time, didn't really condone the course of action. I don't know what went wrong exactly, but from what I gathered something happened to sound the alarm, and the Seppies raised the ray shield around the main reactor. It had to be detonated by hand."
"Which brother...?"
"Hardcase."
The inhale of breath is sharp, and its what makes Rex finally look at his vod'ika, sees the pain in his eyes.
"Fives, I'm sorry."
"He knows the risks."
Rex isn't sure who the phrase is trying to console, Fives, or himself. He reaches out a hand to the back of his brother's neck, gently bringing their foreheads together. He can feel his little brother tremble ever so slightly under his touch, and he gives what he hopes is a comforting squeeze. They stay like that until the Captain feels the ARC Troopers breathing even out. When he pulls away Fives looks better, less shaken, and although his grin isn't as large as normal, it's still there. (He marks it down in a new column in his heart, right next to Ahsoka's smiles and laughter, counting it as a small victory against a war that's designed to cause as much misery as possible).
"Thanks, Gramps."
Despite himself, he laughs. Perhaps, he thinks, the nickname isn't so bad if it brings a little joy.
He's about to respond, when a flash of light overhead draws their attention; Bright orange and yellow that bleeds through the dark clouds. Hardcase did it. But he doesn't let himself relax, not yet, because for all the changes made, he still doesn't know if he changed enough.
His heart pounds in his ears and he's fairly certain that he's forgotten to breathe. The seconds tick by, each one seemingly longer than the last. Beside him, Fives is tense; eyes also fixed to the sky, waiting and watching.
The relief that foods him when he spots the speck of light approaching is indescribable. However, it quickly fades when he notices the erratic flight, the way the ship lists dangerously to one side, and (when it gets closer) the sparks that trial behind it.
The landing, if it can be called that, is rough, and when the shield comes down, Rex is there ready to catch his brother if need be. It's a good thing too, as Hardcase tumbles from the seat, blood leaking from under his helmet. It takes a matter of moments to find the pulse at his brother's neck and only then does Rex breathe. Unconscious, but miraculously alive.
Boots on the pavement prompt him and Fives to look up.
"The General requests your presence."
---
Knowing the execution order is coming doesn't make it any easier to hear or make him want to strangle the fallen Jedi any less. Especially as Hardcase, barley able to stand from what Rex strongly suspects is a concussion, has to be assisted to his mark.
“Do the prisoners request blindfolds?”
Tup looks disturbed to even be asking the question, and Rex’s heart goes out to him. No brother should have to face killing their own family.
Not right.
He has to check again to be sure he isn't imagining it, but no, it is Tup at the firing line.
Fives has begun speaking, but Rex doesn’t pay attention, too busy doing a headcount, grateful for the lack of helmets obscuring faces. He does it again, just to be sure.
Dogma isn't there.
Distantly, he's aware that Fives speech is winding to a close, but only just. Too busy running over the possibilities, the implications, and drawing a blank.
The sound of blaster fire draws his attention violently back to the present, and he is no less relieved to see that the firing squad had come to the same conclusion as before.
Fives glares at him as he walks up.
"A warning would have been nice." The ARC trooper hisses under his breath.
"And miss that speech? Look at them Fives, " he surreptitiously gestures to the men as he begins undoing the binders. "Sometimes we forget that we're more than walking numbers, especially under men like Krell. They needed to hear that."
The binders come off with a click, and Fives rubs his wrists.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because I needed to hear it."
The ARC Trooper looks at the Captain for a moment, eventually nodding his head in acceptance.
"Besides, " Rex cocks an eyebrow, "I thought you didn't believe me?"
Fives punches him in the arm.
---
To say that Krell is displeased at the news of the failed execution would be an understatement. The fallen Jedi is livid, and standing before him held in a fourhanded grip, forced to look up to meet the massive force users gaze, Rex is reminded of standing up against the Imperial AT-AT on Seelos, just him, Gregor, and Wolffe; Easily uncrushable and very small.
“You are making a mistake by crossing me clone.”
It is fortunate then, that he isn't immune from the insanity that plagues his brothers, and that his tolerance for disrespect dwindled significantly with age.
“Its Captain.”
The lack of ‘Sir’ does not go unnoticed, and Krell’s grip on his arms tightens to the point of bruising. Rex does not look away. Neither does Krell, not even as a trooper relays the incoming transmission.
Rex is aware that were they alone, Krell would drop all pretenses of being a General. When the Besalisk does let go, it's accompanied by a shove and despite his best efforts, Rex stumbles.
“Lock the traitors in the brig. You have your stay of execution, Captain.”
The way Krell says his title slides like ice down Rex’s spine and leaves a rancid taste in his mouth.
“We take the Capitol now.”
---
The battle passes in a blur and by the time its over, he's shaken to his core. The reality of it so much worse than the nightmares ever were. Worse because he can still taste the ion trace from the blasters that lingers in the air, the screams of his brothers ringing to loud in his ears. Unable to console himself with the knowledge that it was just a dream.
The blood caked into his blacks.
He's only one man he tries to remind himself, only one man against a tide of destruction and death. He can't change everything.
Intellectually he knows its not his fault — that it's Krell and Krell alone that is responsible for every life lost in this sector of the planet.
It doesn't help, knowing that the battle - the loss- was designed to be a form of torture, not when it worked so well. Not when he still blames himself—his orders for the troops to not wear their helmets into battle being too little, too late, with far too many brothers dead by friendly fire.
Blames himself for every brother lost.
For Waxer.
His fists clench in a mix of rage and sorrow, before pulling himself back to present. They have minutes left before they go to confront Krell, and he needs to focus as they go over the plan one last time. The prison is hardly private, but at this point, discretion no longer matters. He knows that every brother, not just the little band he has assembled, will stand with him.
"I still say we should just kill him."
By rights, Hardcase shouldn't even be out of medical, but Rex strongly suspects that only death would have kept him from joining the fight against Krell at this point.
He shakes his head.
"And I'm right there beside you Vod, but unless we want to end up shipped back to Kamino for reconditioning, we need-"
"Evidence."
All four heads whip around. There, standing in the door to the cell, looking haggard and broken is Dogma. No one says a word as he makes his way toward the group and silently extends a datastick, hands trembling.
"I couldn't get what you said out of my mind." He addresses Rex. "About how things didn't add up. So I read his reports, ran the numbers. You were right."
His face is stony, but in his eyes, Rex can see the betrayal, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss that comes from having ones whole world come undone around them.
"He didn't even hide it."
Ah, he read those reports. Brutal and full of plain language detailing his choices. The kind of reports where it didn't make sense how they could have gone without being flagged, not until Rex had learned the truth about Palpatine, just one of the many puzzle pieces that fell into place. Rex carefully takes the datastick.
“How do I help?”
He looks from Dogma to the cylindrical tube. Evidence, he had said.
"Is this what I think it is?"
Dogma nods.
"Every file, every report, every statistic." His smile is a wry, bitter thing. Sharp and self-deprecating, edged with the anger of a man who will never again be played for a fool. "It's amazing what you can get access to when someone thinks you're in their back pocket."
Then they have all the evidence they need.
"Tup, any word from the 212th?"
"No, Captain."
His frustration slips past his lips as a growl and he rapidly does the mental calculations, handing the datastick back to the tattooed Trooper.
"Dogma, get this to General Kenobi. I don't care how or who you have to go through to get it to him, but it's for his eyes only. Understand?"
The Trooper salutes, new purpose lending strength to his bearing, and as he barks out a "Yes, Sir!" he almost looks like the Dogma Rex remembers from the start of the campaign.
He looks around the cell at his brothers, fully kitted and armed, faces set with grim determination.
"Alright, men: Plan B."
#ct 7567#ahsoka tano#captain rex#rexsoka#star wars#star wars: the clone wars#star wars fanfiction#rex x ahsoka#arc 5555#fives#arc trooper fives#hardcase#clone trooper hardcase#clone trooper tup#ct 5385#clone trooper jesse#ct 5597#clone trooper dogma#dogma#pong krell#umbara arc#umbara#time travel fix it#time travel au#time travel#blood mention#tw blood#violence mention#my writing#cross posted on ao3
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My Little Mochi 💉
Chapter 2: Jiminie
There was nothing but silence. No matter what I said, no matter what I did, there was just no response from the broken, but beautiful boy. It was like he was frozen, stuck on pause if you like. He wouldn't move from the same spot, he was just stood in the middle of the main room staring at the wall with those deep and sorrowful eyes. I wish I knew what he was thinking at the time, so then maybe I could have helped, but it was clear to me that he wasn't going to let anyone or anything know. I mean I didn't even know his name, and I was itching to know.
I poured a glass of icy cold water and made my way back to the boy who was starting to shake a little. I tilted my head a little before holding the glass in front of the boy. "Here...I'm not quite sure if you're thirsty, but it might help calm you down a little." I started with a small smile. "It's fresh I promise" I urged him into taking it, but he wasn't moving for anything. "Come on boy...there must be something I can do to help" I sighed putting the glass of water on the coffee table.
"J-j...Jimin..." A small voice spoke out and my ears twitched a little as the voice was so sweet and soft.
"W-what did you say?" I turned too face the boy, I was so surprised and lost in the boys voice I didn't even hear him properly.
"J...Jimin...not boy" His voice replied a little unsteady and I couldn't help but smile widely showing my bunny teeth which I hated with a passion, but I just couldn't contain it.
"Jimin..." I repeated to myself. Jimin definitely fit the boys character. Adorable, quiet and fluffy. "Jiminie!" I basically yelled a little excited at the nickname that just popped into my head.
"J-Jiminie..." Jimin's gaze reached up to mine and I was so shocked that he was actually interacting with me.
"Mhm...Do you like it?" I asked just to make sure it was ok to call him it, and he just answered back with a little nod and I noticed the corner of his lips curve up slightly. I felt somewhat proud that I managed to make him smile, even if it was just a little. "Jiminie it is then!" I clicked my fingers and Jimin clapped his hands together before shuffling a little closer to me. "Are you hungry Jiminie?" I continued a little worried that he hadn't eaten at all. Jimin replied with a shake of his head. "You're not much of a talker are you?" I questioned looking down at him and he shook his head again before looking down like he had done something wrong. I placed a hand on his bare shoulder which made Jimin flinch a little, so I pulled it away quickly noticing how much it affected him..."It's ok...I won't hurt you...I don't know what happened before, but I'm here to look after you, that's what I intend to do" I reassured, before I could say anything else Jimin reached out his small, cute and slightly chubby hands and took the glass of water I had placed on the coffee table mere minutes ago and he quickly downed it desperately. "Wow...you were thirsty" I chuckled a little and when he looked up I could see the embarrassment in his face, as his cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "Don't worry, you can drink as much as you want. I have plenty more where that came from" I continued to chuckle as I sat down on the couch making room for Jimin to sit next to me. I patted the space and gestured for Jimin to join me. "Come sit with me. We can watch whatever you want" I smiled softly. The hesitation in his eyes was clear as day, yet he still slowly shuffled his way over to the seat next to me. As he sat down he shimmied as far away from me as he possibly could. I guess he didn't fully trust me, which was understandable, he'd only known me for less then an hour..."Anything you'd like to watch?" I asked turning to Jimin who was bouncing his knees up and down uncontrollably. I started to flick through the channels waiting for a response from Jimin, but he didn't seem to have a reaction to any channel. "Nothing peaks an interest huh? Well don't blame you...nothing ever good on TV these days" I stated and then I noticed Jimin staring at a certain DVD on the coffee table. It was 'Avengers'. "You like Avengers?" I questioned picking up the DVD case. Jimin chewed on his bottom lip before nodding nervously. "Who's your favourite?" I continued and Jimin suddenly lit up before desperately pointing at the picture of The Hulk on the front cover. "Ahhh you like The Hulk...I like Iron Man" I admitted showing off my Iron Man socks which won a giggle from Jimin and in that moment my heart skipped a beat. His giggle was so gentle and smooth...I wanted to hear it again..."I'll put it on for you then" I nodded before placing it in the DVD player ready to press play. I then caught a glimpse of Jimin's milky white skin. It looked just like porcelain, so delicate. It was extremely distracting. "Umm Jiminie, would you like to borrow a top?" I asked shuffling in my seat a little, this made Jimin pull up the sleeve of his shirt and jumper to cover his revealed shoulder, then he shook his head to say no. "Are you sure? I don't mind, and you're shoulder won't get cold" I explained. It took Jimin a few long seconds to think, then he looked up to me with a small gulp before nodding and mouthing a small 'please'
I made my way into my room before opening the drawer full of my plain white t's, the only problem was they were all oversized. I tried to find the smallest size I had, purely because Jimin seemed to have a small figure. The only small size I had was a large, yet it still looked like it would drown him. I shrugged and took it back to Jimin anyway. "Here you go Jiminie, you can wear this. It might be a little big, but it shouldn't be as bad as the ones you're wearing now" I handed it to Jimin who took it with his smol hands. He looked around a little anxiously and I was confused to say the least. "Something wrong Jiminie?" I asked and he just looked down at the top then back to me. It took me awhile to catch on, but I realised what he meant in the end. "Aish, sorry Jiminie...I'll turn around" I apologised before turning around to give him some privacy. The urge to turn around just to catch a glimpse of his doll like skin was unreal...lucky for me there was a mirror that showed me Jimin changing into the top. I felt a little guilty and perverted, but holy mother of all things perfect it was worth it. What I saw wasn't what I was expecting at all. His chest was muscular and you could see his collarbones clearly sticking out. My eyes travelled down a little further and my jaw dropped. My eyes were stuck on his perfectly toned abs...They weren't too hard either, they were subtle and that's what made them even more irresistible. I was surprised to say the least. This cute and shy boy had a body like a god...I could see the V line starting at his torso, but at that point I knew my limits and I looked away, even though I would have loved to have seen the whole thing...
I heard the shuffling of Jimin's body then a sudden light tap on my shoulder. I turned around and Jimin was wearing my oversized top and only my oversized top. He had taken his jeans off too, showing off his thighs and I could feel my cheeks burning up. I covered my mouth in order to stop any unwanted noises escaping. He looked beyond cute...beyond perfect...he was an angel.
"t-thank you..." Jimin choked a little and my eyes glistened as I watched him get comfy on the couch. I had to pry myself away from staring too long. The last thing I wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable. "Y-you ready?" I asked with a small stutter and Jimin replied with his usual small nod. I pressed play and the movie started. I did well to focus at first, but my attention slowly began to divert to Jimin. I was intrigued to see his reaction to the film and honestly I was so glad to see how happy he looked. He was so invested in the film, he rarely blinked. I loved watching how he would get excited every time The Hulk came on the screen and how he would lean forward in his seat just to get a closer look at all the action scenes.
As the film went on I noticed how Jimin's eyes started to slowly close, then he let out a little yawn. I watched as he slowly laid his head down on the side allowing himself to fall into a deep slumber. I waited until the film was finished, even though I wasn't paying much attention to it, I just wanted to make sure Jimin was lost in sleep. I stood up once the film was over and turned off the TV before admiring the heavenly breaths Jimin was giving out as he curled up to the edge of the couch. I finally decided to pick him up in my arms gently. As I did I heard a soft mumble, and I lulled a little melody in hope to send him into his deep slumber and to my luck it did. He turned in my arms and snuggled his head into my shirt. I felt a little flushed and as much as I would have loved to have slept with Jimin like this, I knew it wasn't fair on him, so I took little steps towards one of the many spare rooms in the house. I put him the closest room to mine, just incase something we're to happen.
I carefully lowered him down onto the bed before tucking him in and checking he was fully covered. Once I was satisfied I looked down at the sleeping Jimin who had curled up into foetus position. I pulled myself away from him and turned out the light before closing the door.
It had been a long night...when I checked the time it was 5 in the morning. I stretched out my arms with a loud yawn before heading to the comfort of my own bed. I was still mesmerised by the holy site of Jimin...He was so perfect beyond belief. It was hard to believe someone like him even existed, and for such a boy like him to go through a traumatic experience...I couldn't even begin to think what it was...
2/💉
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