#i just miss my sticklers bro

[mcytegg]

i know its unlikely but if ro and/or jumper played session tmr to help rek protect vi, it would fix me.

[bucketbueckers]

MESS ME UP

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[clonedchaos]

GUYS GUYS GUYSSSS IM LOSING MY MINNNNDDDD TRANSFORMERS ONE WAS SO GOOODDDD THIS IS LEGIT ME RN:

Okay, but seriously though, I really enjoyed it and want to make plans to see it again. So if you haven’t already, I highly recommend the film. It’s criminally underrated in terms of the box office, so go show it the love it so rightfully deserves!!! 🥰

Anywho, if you want to hear nonsensical spoilers, feel free to read below the cut.

Childhood me would never think I’d be somewhat shipping Optimus and Megatron but like… yeah I understand what y’all are getting at in your tumblr posts. (Fr though, their friendship was so sweet. D-16’s betrayal really did hurt. And it’s been a while since I’ve seen such a well done relationship like that in the media. They’re just two silly lads who genuinely cared about one another and yet got driven apart by vengeance.)

Every single time Bee said “Badassatron” I’m sobbing— He’s such a goober. Bumblebee was always my favorite as a kid, so I have a soft spot for him (even if Orion and D16 were my favorites in this film). “KNIFE HANDS” he’s a safety hazard. (Also him being slightly insane and making inanimate objects his friends to talk to and being self-aware that they’re fake— I AM STEVE?!)

Sentinel essentially saying “Nu-uh” to D-16 when he was rambling about his plans.

Why did they keep saying miner? 😭

Starscream is such a neeerddd per usual. Dang he’s simping for Megatron (I’m kidding y’all, I miss poking fun at the silly plane man)

Trion basically adopted these tiny 4 robots and yes it is canon 💯 (Bro shouldn’t have died, I wanted silly dad shenanigans 😭)

Orion- “Hey Darkwing, my finger can transform”. Meanwhile D16: *knocks Orion the heck out and then proceeds to get punched by Darkwing* My favorite part of the movie ngl

I am very Bumblebee core tbh. He’s just a silly little guy. A silly guy with knife hands.

Bee saying his dream was to work for the government had the theater and I howling (this was a very fun theater experience actually, loved the vibes)

The boys are just casually scared of Elita. Girlboss 💅 (Also I love that her and Arachnid had a fight. I vaguely remember them having a fight/maybe rivalry? In Transformers Prime. Speaking of which, I need to rewatch that. Its been years and I never finished it)

I’m sorry but the whole “Starscream” namesake and then D-16 damaging his vocal cords is obvious irony but still. Nice touch.

”Why did you gag him?” “He wouldn’t stop talking.” “Even when he was unconscious?” “ESPECIALLY WHEN HE WAS UNCONSCIOUS!” Bee’s certified yapper moment

Orion’s whole arc and relationship with D-16 is sad when you pair it with how they are in other iterations. Like, the reason Orion/Optimus would’ve been a stickler for the rules and order was because he was afraid of losing someone again like he lost D-16. (I can’t remember if their backstory is the same all across the board, its been a while since I brushed up on transformers stuff)

The animation was genuinely very pretty. I love the little magic sand particles and the way Megatron’s eyes have a glow trail as specific examples.

The child in me kept kicking my legs and screaming at the references. The mask! Roll out! When D got his signature arm gun I internally lost it. And Chris Hemsworth’s voice at the end of the film was a really really good Optimus voice.

“Is it… getting closer?” Meanwhile Bee: *running away for his life* (both him and Orion running at the start of the film absolutely took me out)

Okay I might do a follow up to this tomorrow, it’s late and I have work in the morning. I’ll think on some more things I want to add as well as some headcanons! Stay tuned!

[ipoxcky]

SQUAD 312 AND MONOPOLY HCS

canonically, it would take place at the end of chapter 7 of aurora burning. what if instead of frennet, kal, fin, auri and scar woke up z and ty, and the gang played monopoly?

finian would be praying to the maker each turn. he would always land in the community chest or chance between 3 hotels when he’s broke and he'd be like “maker, i’m not sure what i’ve done to deserve this, BUT THANK YOU🙏🙏🙏”

tyler would be a stickler for the rules. always enforcing them and then reading them verbatim whenever they got violated. he could SENSE whenever you landed on his property and owed him rent. HE WOULD FEEL IT BRO

tyler would almost own an entire color set—but scarlett would buy the last one missing and would refuse to give it to him bc she’s j evil 😭she’d always get what she wanted though because her deals would be perfect

zila would be like almost insane because she’d try to stop herself from calculating the probabilities of any one property being landed on and basically ruining the “game” aspect of it for herself…she would be the banker but even those calculations wouldn’t keep her at bay 😭

kal would be put on a team with aurora, and even after studying the manual for like two hours beforehand he would still whisper to aurora occassionally like “aurora, what is an ‘avenue?’” “i am not the best with syldrathi economics, let alone terran. however i am fond of war strategies. if this auction allows things to get physical, i will get us that property, be’shmai.”

“so, these false credits will allow us to purchase these false properties when it is our turn? we have to roll the ‘dice’ to determine those odds? well, fate can only decide that…that is the objective? i see. this terran game is quite fascinating.” (side note i’m so mad that i didn’t write this down as soon as i thought of it at 2am bc i had the PERFECT kaliis dialogue in my mind like it was so canon bro i’m fuming)

because auri’s from the actual time, she can make up any rules that she wants, so she just gaslights everyone and makes up rules as she goes “well, back in my time, people collected 500$ as they passed go. let’s play it that way. yeah, you could get passes on really bad rent if you strike a deal with the person. if you roll doubles you can roll again, but if you roll three doubles you go to jail.” 

[nebulaleaf]

i was gonna say makoto but someone beat me to it!! akira and also ryuji then

Sexuality Headcanon: bisexual king. he is soooo fucking bi i think he has a men preference but !!!!!! hes still bi babey

Gender Headcanon: this image and im not elaborating

A ship I have with said character: literally all of them. you could throw me nigh anything* and I'd be so into it. akira is great at having chemistry with others. top 3 gotta be pegoryu, shuharu, akeshu though. (in no order)

A BROTP I have with said character: ryuji and mona but ugh. all the bestie relations with the thieves are fun for him.

A NOTP I have with said character: shutaba and shusumi. i feel like i have to put a mlm pairing here for equality. shuyuu i guess, though unlike the other two i actually have the capacity to ship it in some form. shutaba feels weird for family reasons but also dynamic and dependency reasons. shusumi i also wouldn't ship on my own because I'm not a huge kasumi fan and even less of one when they're together like that. i just don't feel any chemistry with her n' akira. i know he's a silent protag but god does he feel like a mute brick wall when they have scenes together. s'no fun.

A random headcanon: a lot of my headcanons are things based heavily in canon because im such a stickler for that.. its hard to pic a random one because they dont Feel like hcs when there's 7 blatant scenes about it, but I'm also aware that's an inherently wrong thing to say. so fuck. idk. i think akira enjoys running around tokyo and trying all the different trending foods and drinks. definitely misses the variety and convenience when returning back home.

General Opinion over said character: he is my oobly doop. my everything. the day i stop having akira as my number 1 all time fave character is the day i am assimilated into the hivemind and failed to take it over

ryjier. time.

Sexuality Headcanon: constantly varies but he is so allo i can say that with certainty.

Gender Headcanon: TRANSMASC!!!! TRANSMASC KING

A ship I have with said character: no matter the universe pegoryu is always a little in love with each other

A BROTP I have with said character: ryuji and yusuke. i love their dumb antics together, especially in strikers

A NOTP I have with said character: mmmmmmmm? i don't know. maybe ryushima? it feels weird calling it a notp because i don't feel any strong feelings about it aside from like "oh. cool. i wouldn't think about that ever"

A random headcanon: would probably try coffee akira made for him "with a new and improved brewing recipe to make it tolerable" and almost throw up from the bitterness every time. but still keep saying "yeah man, make me one. i bet this time it'll taste great" unironically

General Opinion over said character: my absolute favourite guy. I'd do anything for you bro. bro you're my whole world bro. br-

[nanabbi]

Look. I love Hizashi as much the next person. But his Hero Hairdo? No. Just a plain no from me. I like the memes and yeah, it’s pretty characteristic, but what the heck was he thinking???

It’s A Matter of Spite. Thank you, @onemaebee for checking this over!

“Excuse me…?”

Hizashi couldn’t help but wonder if the battery of his hearing aids was running low again.

“Objectively.”

The Hero Public Safety Commission representative --or the stickler for short, as Hizashi had mentally dubbed him in his inability to gather enough investment to memorize his name-- who had summoned him here to supposedly speak about his Hero career, gestured vaguely in Hizashi’s direction.

Well… More precisely, he gestured at all of him.

“Objectively speaking, you are pretty,” the stickler added and sat straighter up his chair. Someone should have colored Hizashi surprised at this point, because he wasn’t expecting the dude to be able to sit any more like he had a cane up his--

“You have nice features,” he continued, clearly missing Hizashi’s distaste with how this conversation was going “And despite your--” his eyes very pointedly scanned over Hizashi’s leather jacket and its extra spiky shoulder-pads “--packaging, you have managed to attract certain demographics.”

Sure he had, and not thanks to your organization, bro.

Newbie Pro Hero with loud personality. Self-sacrificial and badass to a tee. Endearing human flaws. Excellent fashion sense and taste in music --thank you very much-- and all of that at barely twenty one.

Of course Present Mic was appealing to certain demographics.

“You are interested in media entertainment, aren’t you?” The stickler continued to speak when Hizashi failed to find a proper way to respond.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have a comeback, it was more that… HPSC did kind of have the power to defame him if he ended up running his mouth as he felt it right now. Having his fashion sense insulted by a man wearing a terrible plaid tie was one thing, but having them chip strongly on his career because he insulted their bureaucracy? Better be cautious with that.

“Radio,” Hizashi replied and hoped that he didn’t sound as annoyed as he felt.

“I am interested in radio, specifically. I have a voice quirk, as you might be aware?”

If the stickler noticed the sarcastic tone, he didn’t show it. Instead he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh as if Hizashi was being unreasonable.

“Yes, I know. But why? That’s kind of a waste, isn’t it?”

“Because that’s what I like!” The water glass he had been offered vibrated threateningly. Hizashi didn’t raise his voice much but catching the right frequency would be enough to shatter it. He took a deep breath and composed himself. “What exactly am I here for?”

“What do you think you’re here for?” The stickler asked, not seeming particularly bothered by the small ‘outburst.’

Hizashi glared. It wasn’t that he didn’t have many reserves of patience to offer, but this particular occasion didn’t feel worthy of his restrain.

“You want a poster boy,” he stated. If they stopped beating around the bush, maybe he could get this over with already.

Bad-tie-man had the audacity to smile and give Hizashi a patronizing nod of approval.

“Precisely, Mic. Appearances are the beginning and end to preserve good relations between Heroes and regular citizens. You have the looks already, and your persona is appropriate for handling crowds. If you decided to work with us and became a little more camera-friendly, we could put you on the top ten –if not top three- popularity chart when it comes to Heroes. You could help us keep common folk happy.”

“Camera friendly.”

There was no much hiding the pure un-amusement and borderline disgust Hizashi’s tone held at this point as he repeated these words.

The stickler’s plastic smile fell slightly, being replaced with a more professional strictness.

“You have a style. We respect that and wouldn’t dream of changing it completely. You are remembered by it after all, but we would have to implement some edits to show off your features more. Your fashion choices are so loud that I doubt people even notice what’s underneath it.”

Yeah. That was kind of the whole point, actually.

Hizashi loved the persona he had created. Present Mic was a great escape for him. He loved to entertain while being him. He loved to save people and be as over the top as he felt like, without worrying about how that looked, since it was part of the act. As an over-the-top Hero, acting the part didn’t raise many questions. He loved forgetting Hizashi’s problems when he strolled around like a peacock in Present Mic’s shiny leather clothes too.

He also loved how rarely he was recognized when he wasn’t Present Mic.

Hizashi needed some time of his own, to be as silent and still as he felt like, with no expectations to be anything more than a lazy pile. Kayama and Tensei didn’t mind him when he was like that. Aizawa… Well. Who knows what Aizawa was thinking about Present Mic, these days. Or even Hizashi for the matter.

The sleazy voice, coming up after translating his silence as an invitation to continue, was welcome this time.

That was a line of thinking he would rather avoid for the time being. It only ended to long alcohol-filled nights and Hizashi couldn’t afford that again. Present Mic was supposed to be on patrol tonight and he already had to ask Kanaya to cover for him twice this week.

“I’ve noticed you’re growing your hair.”

Taken aback by the observation, Hizashi’s fingers reflexively came to brush the hair, styled to heavily fall on one side and kept there with many layers of hair-spray. Hizashi had yet to decide how to style with the additional length so for now he had settled on the emo-punk look. It went well with Present Mic and nobody expected appearance-consistency so early in a Hero’s career (plus he hated people touching his hair and having it gelled discouraged them from it). The audience knew they would get Present Mic 2.0, 3.0 etc. It happened with most heroes.

“Yes?” He asked, sounding much more tired than he did a few moments ago, still feeling the remnants of pain that came whenever he thought of Aizawa these days. “What about it?”

“It is what drew our attention actually,” the stickler almost sung with a grin that made Hizashi fidget uncomfortably in his seat. “Made us take a closer look. Notice your potential.”

“Glad to know that through my work as a hero, it was my hair getting fancier that made you notice my potential,” Hizashi replied without even bothering to fake politeness. This felt like it was supposed to be a compliment but to Hizashi it sounded very much like an insult towards his abilities. “Cool priorities, there.”

This time, the stickler didn’t give him an eye-roll, but Hizashi felt the spirit of it passing over him anyway.

“I wouldn’t have called you if we didn’t already know of your skill.”

“But you did call me, because ‘I am pretty,’” the last words rolled off Hizashi’s lips laced with three doses of sarcasm and two of venom.

“It’s a package deal,” the stickler’s reply was drowned at the end by the sound of Hizashi’s chair scrapping against the floor as the blond stood.

“And a deal you won’t be getting,” the sleazy sweetness in his own voice, was overstated enough to make sure it was seen as fake. “Thank you for the interest. I think I am doing fine with my current agency.”

Hizashi expected to be interrupted before reaching the door. HPSC should start hiring less predictable people, with less predictable approaches (though it might be a good thing, no unpleasant surprises).

“Mic. Even if you don’t work with us, keep my words in mind. Image is important and you could use it.”

“Certainly,” Hizashi sang without even sparing the man a glance.

The door closed soundlessly behind him.

The bang came a week later.

Hizashi made damn sure that the fight in which he debuted his extra-gelled, pointy, cockatiel-stage-one hair was captured on camera and broadcasted on skyscrapers. It wasn’t even the final touch to the message he wanted to send to the Commission. It would take a few more months or maybe even years, but boy, could he not wait for their commentary on the upcoming moustache.

💛💛💛

[we-are-all-flynn]

yall know when you have an idea for an au and you just cant get it out of your head? anyways,

jatp tmi/shadowhunters au

(its a mix between the show and the books because yeah)

okay here we go

julie as clary - obviously. artistic? curly hair? can see people others cant? short? it just fits. moms dead/missing for most of the narrative. has a hardcore bestie who stays w/ them through everything.

flynn as simon - the iconic best friend. has always had a crush on bestie and even dated them for a bit? ngl i would love to see it with julynn. sort of hates besties s/o and discourages hanging out with them, but eventually has a good relationship. jace and simons relationship is everything and i would love to see it w/ flynn and luke. which brings me to our next point.

luke as jace - now, we are not doing the sibling bit. i simply will not include that because no. anyways, cocky, musical, main love interest, yeah. obviously hes not as narcissistic as jace because that would be mean. but hes still sometime ignorant to others feelings and can be self centered because thats canon anyways.

alex as alec - gay. alex is a stickler for the rules but just because hes anxious. was in love w/ best friend for a while, but got over it when he found his mans. also hes nicer to julie than alex is to clary at first because i said so. doesnt mean hes not still kinda stiff tho.

carrie as izzy - badass girl. falls in love w/ mains best friend. im sorry but i would love to see that one scene in idris with flarrie and alex it would be so funny

willie as magnus - rn im imagining willie in magnus' clothes and makeup and screaming inside. anyways willex as malec is something that can be so personal

rose as jocelyn - julie/clary's mom, absent for a while. idk id rather rose doesn't die like in jatp and shadowhunters so ig we're goin w/ book canon on this one. rose doesnt really hide her past from julie in jatp she just never mentions the boys (which she really had no reason to) but we can relate that to jocelyn hiding her life easily enough.

ray as luke - okay there is no way in hell that im having rose be calebs ex, so we're just gonna say that ray and rose were in the circle sorta like robert and maryse were, ray was one of calebs right hands, realized he was messed up, they planned to leave, ray got turned, rose fled pregnant w/ the cup, they found each other again, raised julie and had carlos, everything was good up until you know when.

OH MY GOD CARLOS AS MAX BUT NOT REALLY BECAUSE HE WONT DIE AND HES JULIES LIL BRO INSTEAD OF ALEX AND CARRIE'S. yes.

victoria as dot - victoria as a warlock is something that can just be so personal. dot was already sorta like a cool aunt to clary, so why not. worked at roses shop.

trevor as robert - carrie and alex's dad. was part of the circle w wifey (who should be maryse? should she be absent like carries mom?) and ray and rose. stayed longer but ultimately left, kept secret from kids. although i like trevor i dont want him to die so he can just be a good inquisitor who supports gays and retires at some point to jia(ms harrison ? 👀), who then retires to alex later on

caleb as valentine - honestly who else would it be. sure its not exact, and i feel like he shouldnt be adoptive dad to luke cause that seems weird, but hes the kind to kidnap someone for what he wants. totally charismatic enough to have a cult following, basically already does.

anyways. i have many more ideas. maybe ill add to this later. also i know i didnt include reggie i just have no idea who he'd be. maybe maya? idk.

[ducktracy]

183. porky’s double trouble (1937)

release date: november 13th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: frank tashlin

starring: mel blanc (porky, killer), tedd pierce (narrator), sara berner (petunia)

the end of an era—this is the final cartoon to feature “fat porky”. though he’d been dieting since late 1936 and steadily throughout 1937 with the other directors, frank tashlin was the last one to skinny him up. ironic, since he was such a stickler for streamlined designs! nevertheless, this is an exciting change, as porky is finally completing his transformation into the pig we know and love today.

not only that, this is the final appearance of frank tashlin’s petunia as well. she’d go on a hiatus all throughout 1938, only to be revived by bob clampetts with a totally new design in 1939. unfortunately, she was only kept for two more shorts before being discarded again. parting is such sweet sorrow!

we deal with not one porky, but two: an escaped convict kidnaps porky and steals his identity in order to successfully rob a bank. it’s up to petunia to put a stop to this criminal’s crime spree... or is it?

a silhouette of a pig furtively creeps under a blanket of typography from the title card. the pig isn’t our favorite stuttering porcine, but rather a grisly, stubbly porky doppleganger attempting to escape from prison. he jumps and growls at the spotlight that shines on him, shooting at the offscreen subjects. not only does he whip out two pistols, he even flips them--such a small detail of flamboyant dramatics goes a long way.

prison guards shoot back at the convict, silhouetted against the night sky, illuminated only by the glow of the searchlight and the stylized white bullets raining down below. the composition is stellar, its flatness reminiscent of the backgrounds of the early ‘40s cartoons, primarily from the likes of frank tashlin, chuck jones, and even norm mccabe at times. a whistle screeches as the prisoners run along, rifles in hand. in all, the dramatic opening rampant with silhouettes feels quite reminiscent to the opening of little beau porky, another tashlin entry just a year prior.

callbacks are more blatant as we undergo the signature Frank Tashlin Expositional Montage, footage of cop cars racing out into the street reused from tex avery’s the blow out, while a close-up of a newspaper press is also reused from avery’s porky the wrestler. all the while, a shot of the convict, identified as “killer” by one of the newspapers in the montage, oversees the chaos, his eyes drifting along to survey the action, his lips parted in a sneer. the narration (tedd pierce?) is the cherry on top--often times, narration has a tendency to feel redundant, as if it’s a crutch to support the gags (i.e. some of tex avery’s earlier entries), but here it elevates the theatrics of the entire prison escape.

speaking of narrators, ours introduces us to a gangster hideout--an abandoned all girls school by the name of katz school for girls, a nod towards studio business manager ray katz--no doubt a place frequented by killer. tashlin’s cinematography is in full swing as we iris in on an exterior shot of the hideout before panning along the interior, an arsenal of weapons littering the schoolroom of years past. a smooth, clever transition of pans from the classroom to a grandiose hallway, focusing on a door.

killer’s lackeys crowd around a table littered with alcohol bottles and playing cards, but most importantly, newspapers highlighting killer’s escape. his cronies all mutter words of praise in thick brooklyn accents (”yeah, dis guy’s clever, jus’ like who-dun-y! he can get outta anyt’ing!”). the conversation between the gangsters is surprisingly natural and fun to listen to: one of the lackeys likens killer to “clark taylor”, a humorously false remembrance of actors clark gable and robert taylor combined.

 knocking outside the door prompts the cronies to whip around with their guns drawn, all crowing “who’s ‘dere!?” in unison. outside the door stands a rather spherical caricature of mae west--if there’s a mae west cameo, it must be a ‘30s cartoon! funnily enough, tashlin gets an animation credit on buddy’s beer garden, a cartoon whose mae west caricature is relatively integral to the plot as well.

mae informs the boys that she comes peddling a message from killer. furtively, they all crowd around the door, stacking on top of each other, each peering out of their own peephole door. the silent film inspiration is strong in this shot. not only that, its composition also reminds me of some of the shots in tashlin’s porky pig’s feat, a personal favorite of mine. 

all hesitation to let newcomers in is dropped once the cronies spot their curvaceous company. they’re instantly smitten, batting eyelashes and all, one of the cronies going so far as to stroke mae the messenger’s face. tashlin’s cartoons always had a promiscuous flair to them, especially in the ‘40s--here is no exception. perhaps it’s only natural, seeing as this entire cartoon is one large parody of all of the gangster pictures churning out from warner bros. at the time (marked woman, kid galahad, san quentin to name a few.)

“he said...” mae lunges a haymaker, causing all four cronies to domino together and knock into the door as mel blanc settles out of his falsetto, “NOT T’ FOOL AROUND WITH DAMES, YA LUGS!!!” killer strips out of his outfit (even removing an iron barbell from where his chest is), growling “let that loin ya a lesson!” as always, mel is fun to listen to--his falsetto voice sounds rather similar to the voice he’d use for his lou costello caricatures. 

killer eyes a stray newspaper, gloating “once i was only public enemy numba NINE!” at the sight of his new title as public enemy #1. (it should be noted that in tashlin’s first picture, porky’s poultry plant, another “public enemy” gag is used. gag continuity is always fun to see!) his eyes drift over to an article on the other side of the page (if you look closely, the date is “thoisdays octember 42nd”, the paper addressing the denizens of “porkysville”.):

“hey! what’s dis? da guy looks just like me! he could be me twin brudda!” frank tashlin’s disgruntlement with porky can be felt multiple ways here. not only did he hesitate until 2.5 minutes into the cartoon to introduce him, the underscore is “puddin’ head jones”, a frequent score associated with porky on numerous occasions offering not-so-subtle commentary about his intelligence (or lack thereof.) 

killer ushers his lackey to take a glimpse at his bank-teller doppelgänger, whispering a plan to them involving porky and the bank, the narrator clueing us in that “the evildoers carefully plan another hideous crime.”

it’s not a tashlin cartoon without his signature up-shot: we iris in on an impressive up-shot view of “worst national bank”, a score of “plenty of money and you” and even the extravagant car horn of a limo solidifying that yes indeed, this here’s a bank! inside, porky dutifully deposits the goods of his spherically designed patrons. even by 1937, these mathematically proportioned designs were out of style--i suppose tashlin got the memo, though, seeing as this is the final “fat porky” cartoon, indicating a transition into more modern, streamlined designs. 

bob bentley animates a close-up of porky depositing the cash of a scottie dog. cue the ever prevalent “cheap scotsman” gag, the scottie’s coin purse (a sock with a lock on it) revealing a swarm of moths upon its opening. he deposits a lone dime, porky happily obliging to sign the bank book. the scottie leaves, and it only takes a few bloated seconds for porky’s brain to catch up with him, realizing that he just signed a bank book to deposit a measly dime. he smacks himself in the face, a carl stalling favorite cue of “you’re a horses ass” providing musical commentary as porky glowers into the camera, hand sliding down his pudgy face. stereotypes aside, this is a fun little scene. it gives porky some personality, accentuating his gullibility (a persistent factor of his character, no matter who is directing him), and bob bentley’s animation is extremely appealing. no discretion to volney white, who animates the next scene, but there’s a noticeable difference in bentley’s and white’s styles, bentley’s animation much more dimensional. i absolutely love how he draws porky.

secretary petunia, once again voiced by sara berner, coos at porky to come over to her desk. she wastes little time flirting with him, asking that the two “step out” for the night. volney’s animation of porky is hysterical--his discomfort is exceedingly visible. porky gets cold feet, a stuttering mess (more than usual) as he sputters “geh-eh-g-eh-g-g-gee, miss petunia, i’m, uh, buh-beh-bashful... huh...heh, you’re so eh-peh-purrty, and eh-uh-i’m, uhh... yee-you’re, uh...” cue one of my favorite deliveries ever by mel blanc as the lunch bell rings. porky grins, realizing he’s saved by the bell. he doesn’t stutter once as he declares breathlessly “it’s time for lunch, g’bye!” and rushes off. the comedic timing, both from mel’s delivery and volney’s animation, couldn’t be better. 

porky strolls outside, where he stumbles across killer (disguised as mae west again) hammering away at a car. porky’s good nature prevails, which often leads to trouble: with a polite tip of the hat, he asks if the woman needs any assistance. “would you be so kind?” 

as porky works on the vehicle, killer prepares to strike, hammer in hand. his motives are thwarted as porky turns to offer assurances that the car will be fixed in a jiffy, killer impatiently hiding the bludgeoner behind his back. the charade continues, porky turning and talking, putting a stop to the nefarious deeds. as porky turns to say “eh-nuh-neh-nuh-now, it’s in the beh-beh-eh-beh-bag!”, killer grunts in his normal voice “SO ARE YOU!”, kicking porky under the hood (bumpy ride!) and peeling off in the car to certain doom.

the transition from killer kidnapping porky to killer putting on porky’s clothes (who’s bound and gagged in a chair) is surprisingly snappy, yet comprehensible and smooth. of course, the narration does contribute to the clarity, but regardless, such a quick transition can be difficult to convey smoothly and clearly. tashlin does it very well.

volney white animates killer’s taunts to porky: “and, wit’ your sissy clothes on, i can rob da bank! and YOU’LL take da rap, see!? AHAHAHA!” volney’s animation is fun to watch--before i saw this cartoon for the first time, i only ever saw google images of it, this scene being one of those images. volney’s eye takes amazed me at how anachronistic they seemed, and i remember likening him to joe murray if he made cartoons in 1937. very fun eye takes indeed!

speaking of fun, bob bentley does a neat little scene involving a brawl between killer and his reflection in the mirror. he goes to check out his new pilfered duds (”now i look like da squoit!”), admiring himself in the mirror. suddenly, his reflection grows a life of its own, sticking its tongue out. real killer gets pissed (if you notice, when he does a take of surprise, you can see where the cel of the reflection gets cut off) and punches the mirror, leaving the glass broken, his reflection now touting a blackened eye. while the “reflection becoming sentient” gag may seem tired, i enjoy how interactive killer’s reflection is, all without saying a word. the staging feels incredibly natural and nonchalant.

with that, killer makes his way to the bank, whistling along to the underscore of “with plenty of money and you” beneath the words of the narrator. you can spot a bit of camera trouble as the camera pans out from the sign at porky’s desk reading “PORKY PIG -- OUT TO LUNCH”: the pan janky, the picture briefly turning blurry before resuming to normalcy. it’s more interesting than detrimental, especially considering warner bros never did retakes.

cue a montage of “porky” stowing away the goods of the townspeople into his pocket, pretending to deposit them in the bank. the minor key rendition of “puddin’ head jones” is a nice reminder of killer’s similarities and differences. similar in appearance, maybe, but not much else. 

petunia engages in her routine from before, attempting to seduce “porky”. mel blanc’s genius shines as killer responds to petunia’s calls in a gruff, scratchy “YEAH, WHAT IS IT!?” he catches himself, and responds in an authentic porky voice “ye-ye-ye-yes, wuh-weh-wuh-weh-what is it?” the transition is seamless. whether it was on one take or two separate recordings, i don’t know, but it remains just as entertaining either way. i especially like how killer switches from “yeah” to “yes”--porky’s personality, while still relatively thin at this point, is certainly coming clearer. at the very least, frank tashlin knows that porky wouldn’t respond by saying “yeah”. it’s a little detail, but it says a lot.

and, just like myself, petunia also understands the distinctions between killer and porky--especially when killer plants a kiss on her as soon as she pulls the same “how ‘bout you and i stepping out tonight, big boy?” routine. killer grabs her in his arms, sneering “why wait until tonight, baby?” and gives her a kiss, prompting petunia to smack him and declare “why, you’re not porky pig!” killer’s response is full of careful wit and thoughtfulness as he so eloquently answers: “SO WHAT?”

ringing the burglar alarm, that’s what. petunia discreetly sets the alarms off, prompting a flurry of bullets to whiz at killer offscreen (they sure have good security!). killer retaliates with his own shotguns, but quickly speeds off to his hideout, goods still in his possession.

killer and his lackeys admire the treasures stacked on the table, eager to pounce. a clever pan to porky, still writhing around in his ropes as killer sneers “AND DEY ‘TINK YOU DID IT!” 

tashlin’s artistry strikes again as we peer at the hideout through the bars of iron gates outside. truck out to reveal police officers crowding around outside, crouching on the ground to remain discreet. the shot is composed rather nicely, with the ground level nearing the horizon line, elevating the subjects to the middle plane. even though the shot itself doesn’t linger very long, the clarity is easy to see. a tree placed off to the side cleverly frames the two officers who are on the screen--little things like that make a big difference.

one of the lackeys notices the cops are lurking by, alerts the others, and immediately shoots his machine gun out the window. watch all of the stuff flying out of his pocket as he shoots--playing cards, knives, guns, jewelry, even a wig! definitely a fun scene to freeze frame and pick apart all the details. 

the cops retaliate, and an all-out shootout occurs. a gag reused from i’m a big shot now (another gangster parody cartoon) and porky’s duck hunt ensues as a cop shoots up at the building, the impact from his rifle driving him into the ground as each shot digs the hole deeper and deeper. another rather fun gag includes a woodpecker drilling into a tree, causing the officer in the branch to clutch his heart and moan “they got me!”

in the process, stray bullets from down below shoot out of the floor, conveniently ripping the ropes bounding porky to the chair. a quick bird’s eye view of the hideout, and it’s onto porky to take action. because we all remember porky as a suave, charismatic crime fighter, it’s only natural for him to jump onto a chandelier hanging from the hallway and knock all of killer’s cronies into a door. (do cartoon characters have stunt doubles? surely they do! don’t they?) 

volney white’s animation prevails for the remainder of the cartoon. porky hops down from the upstairs landing, plopping down right on top of killer himself. both come to fisticuffs, volney’s hilarious facial expressions and treg brown’s masterful sound effects combining to make quite the amusing amalgamation. certainly a scene worthy of freeze-framing for all of the funny faces!

perhaps even more amusing, however, is the drastic tone shift as soon as the cops arrive: no time is wasted during the transition between the fight and an armed cop probing “alright, who’s the killer!?” the fight breaks up in an instant off screen, and porky (his voice un-sped) pleading “i’m uh-puh-peh-puh-peh-porky!” the transition is almost too swift, but is comical over everything else, so i’m not too slighted by it. killer insists in his own gruff voice “I’M porky!”

the cop isn’t convinced, and tries again. both insist that they’re porky. that’s when it’s petunia to the rescue, who assures the cop that she knows how to find out. she cozies up to the real porky, once more enacting their “big boy” charade from earlier. as porky flops over his words in all of his collar-tugging glory, petunia gloats “that’s porky.” porky nodding along to her affirmation is a nice, subtle touch.

as we’ve repeatedly discovered, frank tashlin was no fan of porky. even though he outwardly admits that he didn’t like to work with him, there are multiple clues throughout his pictures solidifying his disdain. here is no exception, as petunia outright screws porky over. 

her sultry demeanor changes from reassuring to duplicitous as she heaves a sigh and coos “how that killer can kiss!” porky rightfully grows angry, and, in a pattern we’ll observe in many a cartoon, allows his jealousy to triumph his bashful, reserved nature as he grabs petunia’s arms and pulls her in for a kiss. killer’s eye-boggling, affronted expression and porky’s triumphant, chest-puffing stance after the fact are both hilarious. volney white does a wonderful job of conveying personality through his animation.

here’s the kicker. despite getting her kiss from porky, she still isn’t satisfied. she coldly remarks “i STILL take the killer!” with that, porky can only gawk in awe as petunia and killer march arm-in-arm out the door, petunia cooing that she’ll wait until killer gets out of prison. iris out.

the voice acting steals the show in this cartoon. mel KILLS it (no pun intended) as killer, from the falsetto to the porky impersonation--which is just mel doing his regular porky voice--to killer’s evil belly laughs. sara berner does a fine job as petunia, and tedd pierce’s narration is always a joy to hear. i’m unsure of who voices the lackeys, as they don’t quite sound like mel, but nevertheless, they too are fun to listen to, especially their introductory dialogue. if anything, you should check out this short for the voice work alone.

frank tashlin’s eye for cinematography sparkles as it always does. the opening montage is particularly impressive, especially the use of silhouettes. very bold and striking. his layouts are very well structured, and the cartoon flows very nicely. it’s a snappy one, but it hardly feels like it drags. there’s a lot packed into these 7 minutes! 

though i do pity porky, especially at the end, i will concede that the end IS a good shocker, even if petunia is straight up cruel. porky’s personality is slowly weeding its way out of the woods, with some traits (good natured, gullible) sticking to his character all throughout his career. progress is being made! and, as i said before, as much as i enjoy the fat porky design, i won’t shed too many tears over this being its final appearance, because it marks a new step forward for warner bros. cartoons are becoming funnier, snappier, wittier, the disney influence continually waning. good things await.

i definitely recommend you check this one out. while it’s not my all time favorite tashlin cartoon, there’s a lot to admire, from voice direction to animation to even the layouts. 

link!

[forever-more-never-again]

Scales and Scars (Part Seven)

Aizawa-Yamada [Y/n] - Given quirks through experimentation, thus their quirks are ‘Artificial’ and not considered ‘true’ quirks

First Quirk: Shadow Manipulation

Uses: Shadow manipulation allows the user to travel almost like teleportation from shadow to shadow by ‘sensing’ the shadows around the user. User is able to control the shadows and form objects. User can change the density of shadows. user also has excellent night vision.

Drawbacks: User experiences flashes of coldness from the presence of shadows, and if holds onto a shadow for too long will begin to develop frost bite.

Second Quirk: Dragon Shift

Uses: User can shift into a dragon, varying in size, and breath fire when in Dragon Form. It is a full shift, and user can not half-shift. Impressive strength in Dragon Form. Excellent vision and sense of smell. Large talons and teeth can break through almost any material.

Drawbacks: User cannot form coherent/rational thoughts while in dragon form and reverts to an animilistic and bloodthirsty mindset.

a/n:Get Ready... Italics are flashbacks

Word Count: 1909

Pairings: Eraserhead(AIzawa) X PresentMic(Hizashi), Reader X Class1A (Will have multiple endings for pairings)

Warnings: Yelling, Swearing, Panic Attacks, Flash backs, Mentions of death

Prologue / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

Masterlist

Your own battle trial was short lived. Having Ashido on your team, against Aoyoma and Toru was ridiculously easy. You had captured the bomb in the first three minutes.

That evening, back at home, you collapsed on the living room floor and cuddled with Inu and Hund. 

“What’s wrong Lil’ Listener!?” Your Pa’s voice was loud even without his quirk, making your groan.

“I hate Teenagers.” You grumbled into the carpet. Inu punctuating your statement with a meow.

Hizashi laughed, “You sound just like Shou!”

Lifting your head to give your Pa a deadbeat stare you missed your dad rounding the couch just to steal Hund from where he was sitting on your back.

Whirling up so that you were sitting, you gaped at your Dad, “Hey!”

Shouta shrugged, sitting on the couch petting Hund who was purring up a storm, “Your loss Problem Child.”

You pouted, “You called Midoriya Problem Child to.”

Shouta groaned, “Don’t remind me. That kid is going to be trouble.”

“Why didn’t you expel him then? I know you would’ve if you thought he didn’t have potential.”

You cradled Inu in your arms, staying on the floor as Hizashi collapsed onto the couch beside his husband.

“Hmph.”

And you knew you wouldn’t get an answer.

Sighing deeply, you stood up, “I’m going to my room. Call me when Dinner’s ready?”

Your Pa waved lazily at you as Inu went to his lap.

Shaking your head fondly at your cat’s tactics and your dad’s, you shut your bedroom door and grabbed your phone.

Somehow Ashido had managed to grab everyone’s number and made a class Group Chat. Which was already hell in a handbasket.

Before opening that one, you sent a message to Shinsou.

Kitten: My Cats have betrayed me.

Zombie: ???

Kitten: They chose my father’s over me

Zombie: So...same thing as everyday?

Kitten: WHA!@HKDSJSJGKSH??? NO!

Zombie: Whatever you say Kitten

You felt heat rush to your cheeks at his last message. Even though you had changed your screen name to Kitten, it felt… different, when other people call you that.

Switching over to the group chat, you scrolled up a bit to see what was happening before joining in.

Alien: And then they just popped out and screamed ‘Hot and ready!’

Engines: Ashido, I beg you. Please stop telling us these stories.

Ghost: I don’t know Iida-kun, I find it quite funny

Alien: Aww thks babe

MOMo: I find I agree with Iida, we’ve barely met each other. 

Pikachu: That’s why this chat is a good idea! We get to know each other outside of the classroom

Shark: Yeah! It’s super manly!

Kitten: You all are going to give me a headache, I can feel it

Alien: OMG Yamada is that you!?

Ghost: That screen name is adorbs!

Kitten: … Thank

Bomb: WHO THE HELL IS BLOWING UP MY PHO-

Shark: They got jeana!

Tape: What the hell happened to bakugou?

Bomb: Shut up you extras!

Kitten: You cant call pple extras asshole!

Zombie: Kitten has claws

Engines: As entertaining as this is, I suggest we get ready for sleep for tomorrow.

Turning your phone onto silent, you got ready for dinner.

After eating and petting your cats, you crawled into bed. That night, your dreams were a kaleidoscope of Burning Rubies, Yellow sunsets, Black Feathers, and hazy purple smoke.

The next day, you skipped into the classroom, surprised to see a lot of your classmates already there. It had been hard to get into the school due to all the reporters outside hounding the students about All Might.

“Hey Yamada!” Ashido flung herself onto you, clinging like a koala, “Join us!”

And you found yourself being dragged over to Kirishima’s desk where Tape arms, Pikachu and Bakugou were standing.

Ashido finally let go of you, but stayed close to your side. Smiling widely, she announced, “Guys! I brought [Y/n]!”

Tape Arms smiled and held out his hand, “Sero Hanta.”

You shook his hand, smiling back,  “Yamada [Y/n] but I tell everyone to call me [Y/n].”

You looked over to see Bakugou and Kirishima both looking slightly flustered. Before you could wonder more about that, you found your arm being yanked yet again as you were dragged to your desk.

“Hi ‘Toshi!” You smiled brightly up at the purpleinette.

He grunted, the shadows under his eyes telling a story of a restless night.

“Morning Class.” The silence was sudden and slightly unsettling as everyone flung themselves into their seats and sat at attention as soon as the door opened to reveal Aizawa.

You stifled a giggle. Your father sounded like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Today you have an important task.” He paused dramatically, and you could practically see the waves of tension and fear on your classmates.

With a deadpan stare Aizawa stated, “You need to pick a class representative.”

And the floodgates opened.

“Me! Pick me!”

“I want to do it!”

“I’m better than all you extras!”

“I wouldn’t mind it.”

You sat back in your chair, you had no desire to be class Representative. No desire to deal with responsibilities and Duties.

Aizawa butted into the yelling contest, stopping everyone for a moment, “I don’t care how you choose, you have until the end of homeroom to pick a Representative and a Vice.”

And without, he pulled out his yellow sleeping bag from behind the podium and rolled over to nap.

Iida stood up and began taking control, “We should put it to a vote!”

Kaminara pointed out a flaw, “Wouldn’t everyone vote for themselves?”

Asui piped in with a croak, “We don’t really know each other well enough.”

That just fueled Iida, “That’s why whoever has the most votes would be best suited as it shows their classmates trust and faith in them!”

Uraraka giggled, “You just want the position for yourself don’t you Iida-kun?”

Iida deflated slightly, “I won’t pretend that I do not desire the position, but I still stand that we should vote!”

And with that, everyone got out a piece of paper and the sound of pencils scratching on paper filled the air.

You stared down at your piece of paper and then glanced around the room.

You could think of a few people who you thought would do a good job. 

Yaomomo was steady and would follow the rules by guiding people to them. Iida would be a stickler for the rules and enforce them.

Your gaze swung to the desks before you. There was Bakugou who was brash and harsh, but you knew he cared underneath his hard exterior due to what happened at the battle trial.

There was also Midoriya. You saw how everyone rallied when he put his all into his battle trail. Pushing everyone to try their hardest.

Flickering your eyes to your friends, you thought of Shinsou being the relaxed voice of reason. And Tokoyami being a relief from the seriousness of the Course.

In the end, you decided to go with Bakugo. Knowing he would make sure people followed the rules, by pushing them to be better. 

Writing his name down, you handed it to Iida when he passed.

Aizawa woke up and took the ballots and counted them, and wrote the names and tallies on the board.

Silence.

And then.

“Who the Hell voted for Bakugo!?”

“I lost. It was my plan but still...no votes.”

“Woah! Deku! You Won!”

You stared at the board.

Midoriya: 4 votes

Yaoyorozu: 3 votes

Bakugou: 2 votes

Aizawa called out dryly, “It looks like Midoriya will be Class Representative with Yaoyorozu as your Vice Representative.

Poor Midoriya looked like a leaf shaking in the wind as he stood before the class.

With Yaomomo looking stoic.

After that, the rest of the day went by fairly fast and before you knew it, it was time for lunch.

As you walked past the table where Ashido, Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima and Bakugou where, you heard Bakugou muttering, “Alright! Which one of you idiots voted for me!?”

Kirishima laughed good naturally, “Bro, I thought you wanted the position?”

Bakugo snarled, “I did, but now I just want to know who was the other person who wanted me to have it.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Balancing your tray of food in one hand, you leaned over Bakugou's shoulder to whisper teasingly into his ear, “Was I wrong to vote for you?” 

Dancing back, you laughed at Bakugou's shout of surprise and the small pops of his quirk from his palms.

Still laughing slightly, you walked to your usual table where Shinsou and Tokoyami already sat.

“Hey [Y/n], what did you say to blasty to make him glare at you like that.” Shinsou asked.

Looking back to the other table, you saw that he was right. Bakugou was glaring at you, his red eyes holding a heat that made you squirm a little in your seat.

Turning back around abruptly, you shrugged and dug into your rice. “ I just told him that I was the other vote for him.”

Tokoyami choked on his water. You patted his back as you waited for him to catch his breath. And then you were met with two disbelieving gazes.

“What?” You tilted your head, confused with their responses.

Shinsou spoke first, “You voted for Blasty?”

Again, you were confused. Squinting your eyes slightly, your answer came out like a question, “Yes?”

Before either boy could open their mouth to ask you more about your choice, a shrill alarm began shrieking through the cafeteria.

“What’s going on!?”

A third year ran past your table, “It’s a level four Alarm! It means someone broke through the barricade!”

Everyone began running, panicked. Everyone, except for you. 

As soon as you heard the shrieking of the alarm, it was like you had been thrown back and were once again five years old. Hearing the shrill scream from the room beside your cell.

Your eyes grew hazy as you fell into the memory.

“Useless! The Quirk is not compatible with its body.”

“Throw them in the incinerator. We can’t have any mistakes or loose ends.”

“Understood.”

“No! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please! Mommy! MOOOMMYYY! AGHHHHH!”

Your breathing became erratic and without realizing it, you slipped into a shadow and flew across the school until you popped out in the hallway before the teacher’s lounge door.

Falling to your knees, you dry heaved and choked on a sob. Your mind still replaying the sound of the child screaming before the fire cut all sounds from him.

Drawing in a deep breath, you shakily stood on your feet and staggered to the door. You need Aizawa. You needed your dad. You could feel the shift under your skin, Screaming to be released in the presence of danger and your panic.

As your hand reached for the handle, something made you pause. Holding your breath, you felt a rush of cold air tingle over you.

Familiar.

Panic once again surged forward, but you held it back as you struggled to make out the sounds behind the door.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You knew those footsteps. You had spent nearly five years hearing these footsteps on the floorboards above your head. The incessant scratch of skin. The quiet mutters.

They were back. They had found you. 

Panicking and struggling against your quirk, you did the only thing you could think of doing. You Screamed.

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t​ @mialeelavellan​ @rainydaysrnevergrey​ @platonic-plots​ @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi​ @queenbbarnes​ @mythixmagic​ @chas-z​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @princess-evans-addict​ @rororo06​ @timelordhunterandmysterysolver​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

Scales and Scars (BNHA) Taglist:

@trash1ty​ @darkfaethedestroyer​ @foxinaforestofstars​ @axolotl-of-evil​ @inumorph​

[stilwaterskeeter]

Lin Headcanons

Hello...I’m back again...still on my Lin bullshit....

This is fairly long...I am not sorry...it’s like 50% lesbian Lin stuff and 50% Johnny & Lin being bros because we were robbed of their apparently very close friendship. When Lin dies Julius comments that Johnny’s gonna take her death pretty hard and he’s gonna be calling for blood. And Johnny is the only one Lin lets give her shit, instead of picking a fight with him she just shoots back with just as much snark....

So anyways here’s my essay about how gay Lin is and how good of a friend Johnny is-

She’s never really tried hiding the fact that she likes girls, but she’s also never said it out loud

There’s some deep set anxiety about it and there’s still some plausible deniability if she never says it outright that she’s gay

She doesn’t keep it a secret like I said, but she’s also naturally a private person so regardless of how little she tries to hide it, not many people know

For the most part the only people who know she’s a lesbian is Johnny, Aisha, Dex, and Julius

Johnny,and Dex found out in high school, around the ages like 15-16

Johnny found out because one of his many girlfriends ultimately left him for Lin and he walked in on them making out like not even half a week after the girl left him

Dex found out because Johnny can’t keep his big mouth shut and also wasn’t aware he wasn’t supposed to go around telling people after he found out. He was just more focused on the fact that his girlfriend left him for Lin and that she didn’t even wait a week before going to Lin

He and Lin definitely got into a real solid fist fight over that

Johnny gets it, he let her get in her first few solid hits because he understands that she needs it and he probably deserved it

He wasn’t expecting that they would actually be a mostly equal match and him “letting her” quickly turned into her having the upperhand in a real fight

Ultimately, some teachers are what ended the fight. Johnny ended up with a black eye and a missing tooth, Lin ended up with her nose busted and a fractured knuckle

They still joke about it all the time, they just think it’s so funny that they beat the shit out of each other when they were 16

Julius finds out because that asshole fuckin knows Everything

He probably saw her at a club leaving with some random girl once and then brought it up to her the next day

”It’s dangerous getting attached to people when you’re representin’ yknow.”

”I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Julius.”

”Oh, I think you do. I’m talkin’ about that girl at the club last night.”

”....I don’t even remember her name, I’m not dragging a one night stand into my life.”

”Just makin’ sure, Lin.”

Aisha finds out because again Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut and apparently learned nothing from last time. Only this time Lin was in the room when it happened

They didn’t full on fight again but Lin did kick the shit out of his leg and knock him down

He just laughed and conceded that he again “probably deserved it”

Lin met Dex and Johnny in the 8th grade

Dex ever the stickler for rules, didn’t really get along with her all too well but she and Johnny got along like two peas in a pod and Dex was Johnny’s friend and she knows how important loyalties are so she doesn’t complain when he drags Dex into their schemes

Lin absolutely gives Dex hell though, she says it’s just teasing and that it’s all in good fun but if you asked Dex he’d tell you upfront that Lin was a fucking bully and made school rough some days

She doesn’t hate Dex, okay? She just thinks he needs to learn to live a little and lighten up

Johnny always stepped in if she was crossing a line though

She ranaway from home pretty early on at 14

Don’t get her wrong, she’s lived in Stilwater her whole life. But fuck her parents and older brother

It’s not like they chased after her when she left

She ended up living with Johnny’s family until she could get her own place. They’re exactly what you expect from the people who raised Johnny Gat

Troublesome, Anti-Authoritative, but they were Painfully Loyal and would probably take a bullet for any of each other and their friends

They didn’t really question Lin running away, they asked when she showed up what happened and if she wanted them to do something about her familt but she shrugged it off

”They aren’t gonna do shit, the past is in the past. I definitely can’t go back ever again now though.”

That was enough for them, Lin was part of the Gat family now

She bunked with Johnny, they’d have ridiculous and often dangerous competitions for who got the bed and who had to sleep on the floor every night

When she moved out on her, Johnny moved with her and they are the absolute worst living on their own and together

Who does the dishes? If you’re lucky Johnn did them like a week ago and there’s still one clean glass left, if you’re unlucky then they’ve broken half of their dishes already so have fun doing your shot out of a small bowl

How do they handle when the other brings home a one night stand? They lock the other out of the entire apartment and whoever gets locked out fuckin breaks in because “Fuck you it’s my apartment too! I do what I want!”

Lin dropped out of high school halfway through her senior year, a year after Johnny

The only reason she made it so far was because she wanted to one-up Johnny and was going to sit it out through graduation but got sick of it and decided she made it far enough to be able to hold it over Johnny that she lasted longer

Lin built her voxel almost completely on her own

She and Johnny would hang out in the scrapyard a lot and set up targets to shoot or chase each other around with airsoft guns. Once they started taking their drivers’ tests, Lin started working on a trashed car in the scrapyard while Johnny shot targets or gave her a hard time by shooting at her or shooting at the car and the parts

She also briefly worked at Rim Jobs over the summer as an apprentice under the mechanic

She hated it and she hated the mechanic and she hated how he treated her and all in all just hated everything about it

She tried toughening it out but gave up like 2 weeks in and called Johnny to come pick her up halfway into the day and left with all the money she could steal from the register and a new toolbox + some tools to replace the crappy ones she was using to work on the car before

She pretty much learned nothing new in those 2 weeks since the mechanic didn’t listen and believe that she already knew the basics, so as a result Lin is pretty much completely self taught

Julius wasn’t the one to recruit Lin into the Saints, unsurprisingly it was Johnny

He had joined in a heartbeat when Julius approached him and he immediately dragged Lin into it and telling Julius how much the Saints could benefit with her

Julius of course let her join, regardless of Johnny’s praise, he wanted as many people as possible joining

Needless to say he was impressed with Lin’s canonization

Lin thought it was fucking hilarious when she found fuckin Dexter Jackson rolling with the Saints

”Really? This guy? The teacher’s pet? The nark? The guy we had do our homework for us and cheated off of for tests?”

Dex hated it when Lin showed up, he had respect in the Saints and he knows damn well that Lin won’t care

He stands up for himself a lot more now though and Lin respects that

She stepped off some since clearly Dex knew what he was doing here and he wasn’t the pushover nerdy guy who hated fun anymore

Dex continued to hold his grudge against her though and refused to work with her as much as he could

Lin was no stranger to getting into fights with her own people

She wasn’t about to let people just go around and be casually sexist and racist and just all around douchebags to her, she got enough of that in high school and yeah she got into fights then too, but now she wasn’t gonna let anyone let shit slide

For a while a lot of the older Saints would send over the newer Saints under the impression that they could get an easy lay out of Lin just as their own sort of hazing

Eventually Lin and a few of the new guys caught on and Lin would instead pick a fight with the guys who sent the newbie over or the newbies would just refuse

[clonesdeservebetter]

Hi yes I can totally see the normal clones asking the FS! Clones to do force tricks or levitate stuff for them because seeing a FS!Clone is probably a BRAND NEW thing. You got your jedi, and then you got YOUR CLONE BRO WHO CAN LEVITATE SHIT AND USE THE FORCE.

Hey! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this, writing ability has been Non-Existent. I totally agree, though! Where there are those that are like “this is weird”, there will always be those who say “Yeah, but also AWESOME”, so have this. Once again, went a bit off-prompt and overboard, but hey, it be like that. Enjoy!

“Should we really be doing this?” Dogma asked, walking just behind his vode as they approached what the 501st was now calling the Training Grounds “I mean, the general said--”

“What the general doesn’t know won’t hurt him, Dogma,” Hardcase said nonchalantly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “Besides, what we’re doing isn’t necessarily dangerous, we’re just having a bit of fun.”

“Going against orders isn’t exactly my idea of fun...” Dogma muttered, but didn’t protest further as they entered the section of the cargo hold that had been transformed into what was, in essence, a safe place for the troops to practice their abilities. It was mostly empty at that moment, most of them having gone to get rest before they reached Coruscant so they had the most amount of energy to spend during their off time, but there was at least one trooper there.

“Hey Fives!” Hardcase called out, causing Tup, Dogma, and Oz to all flinch, as if the shout could’ve alerted Skywalker and Tano to their presence all the way down in the cargo hold “You got a sec?”

The ARC Trooper turned around, his face one of surprise, then confusion, then that look of happiness that held an almost trickster sort of quality to it. The kind of look he and Hardcase tended to share before shenanigans began.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Tup asked quietly, and Oz sighed.

“Because you have common sense, Tup.” Oz replied, and the group stopped.

“Well, look what the tooka dragged in!” Fives said, walking away from the worktable he had been standing at where... something sat, Dogma wasn’t sure what it was, more than likely a Jedi thing “What brings you to the 501st Temple on this fine day?”

“What, I couldn’t just feel the need to visit a brother and see how his training is coming along?” Hardcase asked in mock offense, and Dogma had to resist rolling his eyes. Fives looked up and down him, appraising the group, and then, completely deadpan:

“You want to see me do cool Force shit, don’t you?”

“Hey! We want to see you do cool Force shit.” Hardcase said, gesturing to the three younger clones. Dogma straightened slightly as Tup and Oz shifted, looking anywhere but the ARC Trooper, who only laughed.

“Can’t promise too much, I’m afraid. Rex is the one that knows how to really use it so far, most I can do is lift things and push other things. Not much else.”

“Yeah, well, the captain actually follows the general’s orders,” Dogma cut in, then adding under his breath “Unlike us, apparently.”

“C’mon, Dogma, live a little! Don’t worry,” Fives walked forward, placing a hand on the younger brother’s shoulder “If I say I was the one who invited you here to show you, I’ll be the one getting in trouble.”

“None of us would be getting in trouble if we weren’t doing this.” 

“Listen, vod,” Tup said gently “If you’re really that worried about it--”

“Then just don’t participate,” Oz finished, crossing his arms “I’m not gonna miss out on this, though. Just think of all the uses it has! Both on and off the battlefield.”

Dogma opened his mouth, but then sighed in resignation, opting to sit on one of the nearby boxes that hadn’t been cleared out of the area yet. Taking that as the go-ahead from the resident Stickler, Fives and Hardcase were instantly in hushed conversation, and Dogma began to look around the place. 

It was obvious that the place used to be a section of the cargo hold, boxes of various supplies scattered about, some used as tables, some smaller ones (like the one he was sitting on) being used as chairs. The lighting that, while not dim, was not bright enough to light up the area “properly”, and it made Dogma have to squint to see in certain areas. There were proper tables and chairs, like the worktable with the strange device on it, but the place itself was rather sparse otherwise. It was quiet, calm, and probably the perfect place to practice using the Force in secret. 

Secret. That was the biggest thing that irked Dogma about this. Not the fact that they were clones training to be, well, not Jedi, but definitely something more than what Kamino had planned, not the fact that there were so few, yet so many at the same time, but the fact that it had to be kept a secret. Dogma didn’t do secrets well. Really, nobody in the 501st did, but the only person probably worse than Dogma was Fives, and even then, he had been able to keep his abilities a secret for so long, how long would it be before Dogma opened his trap and said the wrong thing?

Whatever was in charge of the Force should’ve kept its hands to itself, instead of spreading over his vode. Everything was so much more complicated than before, and it ate Dogma up. That, and how relaxed so many of them seemed to be with it. 

He particularly mused on that thought as he watched Fives balance several boxes on top of each other by their edges, the tower teetering dangerously as Oz, Tup, and Hardcase watched, completely enraptured by the performance. Dogma couldn’t help but feel many things at once: worry, frustration, resignation, and, somewhere in his gut, he felt the tight coil of jealousy in his system. 

‘The least the damn Force could’ve done was given it to all of us.’ He thought bitterly as the tower was dismantled, the boxes now just spinning idly just off the ground. He watched as Hardcase climbed on top of one, unsteady but eager, and let out an excited laugh as Fives made it fly around the room. Hardcase gripped the box for dear life, and, despite the image that made Dogma’s anxiety spike so bad he was worried he would have to go see Kix for it, both Tup and Oz did the same.

He watched the three fly around the room, far from graceful, laughing and screeching like they were cadets in the flight simulators for the first time. His eyes drifted to Fives, who, although he seemed at ease, was obviously in deep concentration, the effort of his actions causing him to scrunch his brow and breathe deep. 

Dogma felt something twinge inside him, like a spark trying to light a fire, but to avail (an old memory, swept up in the wind). He pushed the feeling aside, and looked back up at his vode having the absolute times of their lives. 

“C’mon Dogma, live a little!” The words echoed in the back of his mind, and Dogma sighed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Fives must’ve sense Dogma’s change in attitude, because he saw a smirk appear on the ARC Trooper’s face, and Dogma yelped as the box underneath him jolted upward slightly, causing Dogma to shift his position so that he was holding onto it, his knees tucked underneath him.

Dogma couldn’t help it as he began to move around, he laughed, breathless. Hardcase said something to him, but Dogma couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing in his ears.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

(Later, Kix would deny having seen any of them for box-flying related injuries, but they were all barred from the cargo hold for a week afterwards anyways.)

((“Worth it.” Hardcase said.))

(((”I hate you.” Dogma replied.)))

[boymeetsweevil]

For Science 2/7

Grouping: Reader x Nerd!Jungkook

Word Count: ~8.6k lmao where is this going idek

Warnings/Themes: not much honestly just some good old fashioned heavy petting and dry humping :) because why not?

Summary: Jungkook asks you to let him watch you get off. For science.

part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

The next time you see Jungkook is a few days later when classes have started back up for the week. You spent a good 20 minutes that morning staring up at your ceiling wondering if today would be the day that the consequences of your drunken voyeurism party would come back to haunt you. Jungkook isn’t necessarily someone that can’t keep secrets, but given that he’s a bit of a novice when it comes to sex, you’re not sure whether he’ll keep his mouth shut. And as appealing as cutting class would have been, you can’t risk your grades in your junior year and with applications for jobs looming over your head with one year left.

When you emerge from the food court holding your lunch tray, you head to the patch of grass on the quad that you and the guys like to frequent. From the short distance away, you can see that Tae has just sat down to join Hoseok. Jungkook is nowhere to be found and you’re secretly glad you don’t have to deal with him watching you walk over. You give them a nod as you sit down, careful not to spill your food or the precious brownie wrapped up in the corner well of the tray.

“How was Friday night,” Tae asks over a mouthful of tuna sandwich.

“It was fine, why do you ask.” Your voice remains level as you unwrap your sandwich, but you don’t make eye contact.

“What do you mean ‘why’? Jungkook can’t handle his liquor and always throws up if he has more than one beer. Did he even make it to your apartment? No one heard anything from either of you for the whole weekend.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that after the uber left,” Hoseok nods sympathetically.

“Shut up,” you laugh, throwing a crumpled wad of plastic wrap at him. “You weren’t thinking about anything. You were knocked out like your BAC was .9.”

“At least I wasn’t…”

“At least you weren’t what? Because whatever you’re going to critique me for, I didn’t do.”

“Didn’t do what,” Jungkook asks as he approaches the area where you’re all seated on the grass.

“Didn’t do you,” Hoseok snorts.

Jungkook pauses with his chicken nugget in midair. “What exactly are we talking about?”

“You don’t remember asking her to deflower you so you’d be a better lay for Yoori? Man, you really are a lightweight. I don’t get it. You’re tall and muscly, it makes no sense.”

“You really don’t remember?” Tae leans over to look at Jungkook with concern.

“I remember what I remember,” is all he says before digging into his lunch without another word. Your relief is short lived because the topic switches only slightly when Taehyung asks about Yoori.

“When did you say she was coming back, again?”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle with subdued excitement. “She said she was coming back in a month.”

“Well, you’d better start working on that v-card issue then.”

“I’m sure that I’ll come up with some sort of solution,” he shrugs and pushes up his glasses with his middle finger. “Can you go back in line and get me more chicken nuggets, Hoseok?”

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one who’s done eating.” When Hoseok refuses to budge, Jungkook brandishes his ID card like it’s a thick wad of cash. “You can buy whatever you want while you’re up there. On me.”

“Deal,” he snatches the card away before turning to Tae. “Come stand in line with me.”

You turn to watch the two of them go, snorting at how much they resemble tweedle dee and tweedle dum.

“You couldn’t stand in line yourself, hotshot?”

“I just wanted to talk with you privately,” he mumbles while playing with the grass.

“Oh. Is it about this weekend?”

“Yeah. I’ve been giving it some thought and honestly...”

Here comes the rejection, you think. But technically you weren’t even dating, much less together, so how could you be getting rejected? And it was his idea in the first place, so he definitely can’t reject you. The thoughts come at you all at once, inundating you until you’re staring above his head at nothing, trying not to shriek in frustration.

“Hello? Where are you right now, Mars?” Jungkook lays a hand on your shoulder, breaking your reverie.

“What?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh. No, sorry. What did you say?” You raise your shoulder so his hand slides off on its own, bracing yourself for his next words.

“I said I think we should make it a weekend thing instead of just one day a week.”

“Really? Why?”

“Think about the math for starters. We’d meet maybe four more times if Yoori’s actually coming back in a month. But that’s not nearly enough time to test for variables or come up with a formula. Much less master technique. And think of all the instruments I still don’t have a good familiarity with.”

“Jungkook--”

“I figure with weekends, we could triple the amount of raw time we have. And if we’re really being sticklers for detail, we could more than triple the amount of practice situations if we operate under the assumption that it will be mainly just you acting as the test subject.” His hands flutter as he talks until they land like birds in his hair and turn it into a deranged looking nest.

“Jungkook.”

“I read on Sunday that vaginal orgasms can occur in series and since most of the sessions will be focused on you, we don’t have to factor in the more singular penile orgasms or refractory periods and--”

“Are you really talking about your dick like it’s a limiting reagent right now?”

“Yes,” he stops his rambling to look at you through his lenses, the glass making his eyes appear even rounder and shinier. “Should I not do that?”

“You know what? It’s fine. Weekends are fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Your voice is starting to sound a little...hysterical.”

“No, it’s really fine. I’ll just stay over at your place this week after Fortnite.”

“Crap, I forgot about Fortnite. We were so close to being able to compete in the town tournament.”

“It’s fine, just move it to another day of the week.”

“But how will I explain that to Tae and Hoseok without raising suspicion?”

You gnaw on the corner of your lip until an idea comes to you. “Just tell them that my test scores went down a lot and you have to tutor me. Happens to Hoseok all the time.”

“But there’s no way your results would go down enough for you to need tutoring all weekend long for a month’s worth of weekends. You’re way too smart for that.”

“Y-you think so?” His words make your cheeks warm up and you smile up at him shyly.

His brow furrows. “Of course you’re smart. You know that.”

“Obviously I know, but I…didn’t know you thought that way too.”

“I’d be crazy not to,” he smiles softly at you.

“Here are your damn nuggets, you lazy baby.”

A tray piled high with nuggets and baked goods comes crashing down from Hoseok’s hands with a scary accuracy into Jungkook’s lap. Hoseok never ceases to amaze you with the speed at which he can ruin a nice mood. There’s no sense in mourning a one-sided moment, though, so you just scoop up a stray nugget and nibble. Hoseok sits down roughly onto the green with chocolate stains around his mouth, the cherry tart in his hand seems to be his next victim. Jungkook chokes on a lettuce leaf.

“Just how much did you troglodytes buy!?”

“Not that much,” Tae looks guilty as he peels the wrapper off a drumstick ice cream cone.

“Don’t act like you can’t just reload the missing funds,” Hoseok points a syrupy finger in Jungkook’s direction, “You have that programming money, asshole.”

You shake your head and gesture for Tae to grab what he can and leave them to it.

The most daunting thing about the whole arrangement is that during the rest of the week Jungkook manages to act like he’s hasn’t come over to your apartment to watch and help you get off for the sake of being better lover to Yoori. He’s completely nonchalant in the way that he sits next to you when you all get together to strategize for robotics competitions, his elbow brushing yours the entire time. When Hoseok uses Jungkook’s newfound virginity again to knock him down a peg during a study session where he keeps mock-grading Hoseok’s answers down, he doesn’t bat an eyelash. It’s not like Jungkook has suddenly become cool, though. He still eats like a 5-year-old weight lifter. And he still falls asleep on the floor of Tae’s room only to wake up with the shape of his glasses imprinted onto his face. He still looks across the room with lightning speed and holds out his hand like he did when you were kids because he wants you on his team when you guys stumble upon a spontaneous Super Smash Bros being hosted in Tae’s dorm lobby. Jungkook is still just as much himself as he was before you spread your legs for him and you can’t tell if that makes you happy or sad.

Friday rolls around and you spend 2 hours more than usual getting ready for Fortnite at Jungkook’s. The funny part is that you never ‘got ready’ before. But now you’re taking a 40 minute shower to shave basically every hair that grows below your eyelashes and using the previously unopened lotion your mother bought you from the Clinique store a birthday ago. You even put on a mud mask you bought on a whim once and sing a little song called ‘this isn’t a date’ the whole time it dries on your face. By the time you leave your apartment to head over, your whole body is moisturized, glowing, hairless, and fragrant. You empty out your backpack and fill it with the things you’ll need for the weekend so as not to raise suspicion with an overnight bag. Though it’s significantly lighter because its not filled with textbooks and toolkits, you still feel like you’re carrying a huge weight on your shoulders as you knock on Jungkook’s door.

Taehyung is the first to greet you because he’s the one who gets sent to open the door.

“Weird,” he blurts out. He quickly regrets saying anything when your mouth drops open.

“I look weird?”

“I don’t know,” he studies you as you both make your way to small set up of consoles in the middle of the dorm’s living area. “Guys, doesn’t she look weird?”

“Excuse me. I don’t want to do this right now. Nothing’s weird.”

“You do look weird,” Hoseok chimes in and puts down his controller to stalk forward. “But your hair is doing that same…shape it always does. And you’re not, like, wearing something nice for a change.”

All you can do is gape at their rude comments as they circle around you.

“Kook, come check this out. She look different to you?”

Jungkook approaches slowly and looks you over with the rest of them. When it was just Taehyung and Hoseok, you could at least make angry eye contact and flick them in the forehead when they got too close. But with Jungkook also looking at you, it feels like you’re glued by your feet to the floor, unable to move.

“You don’t really look all that different. You smell a little different, though.”

The other two sniff the air before letting out matching yells of agreement and crowding you further to guess the smell. You have to give Hoseok a purple nurple when his nose starts to tickle your neck but you’re too exhausted to shake Taehyung off and endure him linking arms with you as you walk to your seats to continue sniffing your hairline.

“What’d you do? Run out of that dollar store lotion you use,” Hoseok jokes as he tosses you a controller.

“Yes,” you deadpan just to get him off your back. Jungkook scoots his chair next to yours, getting into the normal team pairings. When he gets close enough, you lean over, sheepish, and ask, “Do I smell weird? Be honest.”

“No,” he pats your thigh reassuringly before redirecting his gaze at the TV. “You smell good.”

Although you’re relieved that no one really questioned your slight change in presentation, you can’t settle fully into the game night because you’re practically vibrating with excited nerves. You’ve stayed the night with hookups in the sense that you were too tired to leave directly after a one night stand so you crashed with them in their beds and snuck out at dawn. But this would be different. While it wasn’t a full-on sleepover with a main squeeze, it was still better than doing the walk of shame from a stranger’s apartment at 6 am. And it would be a weekend with Jungkook. After a few hours of trying to hide the childlike smile on your face and having your character nearly die every round, the gang calls it quits.

“Hey, what’s up with you,” Hoseok calls from across the room. “Why do you suck at playing tonight?”

“Just thought it might be interesting to play like you do for a change,” you snark. Taehyung and Jungkook both grimace for Hoseok, who opts for flipping you the bird instead.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is just misplaced passion between us.”

“Good thing you know better.”

Thinking of Hoseok as anything other than an annoying friend has your skin crawling, but you do give him a pat on the back as a silent ‘good game’.

“Should we go out for ice cream? The night is still young. And you’re out of ice cream,” Taehyung calls from where is head is practically buried inside the freezer.

“Sorry, guys. I’m video calling with RealiCorp tomorrow at 8am about some software updates and I have to get to bed so I can be sharp.”

“You don’t have to come. We can get ice cream just the three of us,” Taehyung says as he slips on his shoes.

“I think I’m gonna have to take a rain check as well,” you perch yourself on the armrest of the couch facing the consoles. “I’m on a diet, so I think I’ll just go home.”

“And the reason you’re not getting up go now is?” Hoseok eyes how comfortable you look in your spot and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s dark outside and it’s not safe for me to walk back. I’m calling an uber.”

“Lame, but safety first, I guess.” He wraps an arm around Taehyung and pulls the door open. “You gonna treat your senior to a snow cone?”

You wait for their figures to disappear down the road before turning to look at Jungkook.

“You don’t really have a RealiCorp meeting.”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

“Easy. RealiCorp offices are in New York and 7pm their time is way too late for a minor business call.”

“You caught me. Are you really on a diet?”

“What do you think?” He snorts and raises his palms in surrender.

“I’m gonna go shower, but I’ll see you in a bit.”

You watch him retreat to the bathroom and suddenly you’re glad he’s gone because there is very little time before he watches you get off again.

Quickly you bring your bag to his bedroom and settle on his mattress and wait. To kill time, you look around the room. The superhero movie posters that cover a generous amount of the wall space and the wall length bookshelf that is covered with stacks of comic books depicting the same stories the movies do all scream ‘nerd’. So does the giant monitor with a large terminal blinking on it and pair of laptops on his desk. The laundry basket has three different shirts with Big Bang Theory quotes on them. You shake your head and recall the day you’d bought them for him off Etsy. You weren’t a fan of the show yourself but he loved to watch it for the jokes and to poke holes in the scientific jargon the characters would spew.

“You notice anything new,” he asks as he walks in, shutting the door behind him while he scrubs at his wet hair with a towel.

“No. Did you add something?”

“Yeah,” he says, pointing to the wall that holds the room’s sole window. There’s a large felt flag with the RealiCorp logo embroidered onto it.

“Oh. Nice flag.”

“Not that, that’s old.” He walks over and gestures a hand underneath the flag. Beneath the flag are a handful of photos off you, Taehyung, and Hoseok from over the years. You remember each of the specific moments in which they were taken.

“You’re not in any of them,” you murmur.

“I know. But I don’t need a picture of myself. I know what I looked like and what I was feeling. Having a photo of you guys is the main thing.”

The softness of his tone makes your heart ache. Jungkook is a sentimental genius, a rare breed. With every fiber of your being you wish that he could be yours. You’ve spent around a decade of your life loving him from afar despite the fact that you’re best friends. But you’re prepared to spend another decade doing it if that’s the way you can stay in each other’s lives. The sooner you commit to that fate, the less cloudy this weird thing you have going on will make your brain and the less it will hurt when it’s over and you watch Yoori get to have him.

“Oh, I have something for you.”

He retrieves a brown paper bag from under his desk and dumps the contents on the bed while you strip off your loose joggers. From the bag fall a giant tube of lubricant and a few sex toys. Your peer down at the trinkets with an amused expression while he putters around his room. When he sits down again, you finally take note of his outfit.

Junkgkook is in his mottled and self-distressed hoodie and threadbare sweats that his dad bought him from the school co-op when he got his acceptance letter 4 years ago. It’s an outfit you’re very familiar with because he often wears it whenever you all are dealing with messy things. Like oil changes, painting the exterior of fighter bots, or baking with Hoseok. Now that his hair isn’t soaking wet, he has his bangs pushed away from his face with a thin headband and sleek goggles replace his chunky black frames. You weren’t going to say anything but then you saw the small notebook and pen clutched in his grasp.

“Okay. What the hell is that outfit?”

“You act like you’ve never seen me in my researching clothes before.”

“I have, but you’re not dissecting a drone you found in a dumpster, you’re looking at my vagina.”

“Proper lab attire is an integral part of any successful experiment,” he waves an admonishing finger at you.

“You’re calling sweatpants with cheese stains on them ‘proper lab attire’?”

“This isn’t an efficient use of our time,” he huffs.

“Oh my god, okay fine.” The energy in the room is a little more chaotic than it was before but it provides you with the push needed to get your panties down and trapped around an ankle and you clambering into a half prone position. “Let the experimentation begin.”

Jungkook waits for you to part your knees before shuffling into his spot between your legs. He ducks his head to peer at your exposed folds before scribbling down some notes.

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing much. Just making note of the initial appearance so I can compare towards the end. Can I touch you? My hands are clean, I promise.”

“Uh, yeah, go ahead.”

Clearly he remembered more than he let on from that first night because he goes straight for your clit like you mentioned before. Slowly, he reaches a pointer finger out to poke. The sudden pressure, though light, has you jumping.

“Sorry,” he looks up at you from behind his frames, “I forgot how sensitive it is.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you focus your gaze on the ceiling. You’re trying hard to maintain a semblance of professionalism.

When his finger stops skimming, he’s a little too far south and you tell him so. He adjusts and manages to find it the second time around. He looks at your face carefully to gauge the reaction and is a little disappointed to see that you look bored. He tries circling his fingertip around the little nub, but the pressure is too light and almost ticklish. You snicker quietly and he gives up.

“This isn’t working. You don’t look like you’re having any fun,” he pouts.

“Kook, this isn’t about me. And this is supposed to be educational, not fun.”

“But its only educational for me if you’re having fun. What else can I do?

“What do you mean, you’re doing fine.”

“I did the finger thing and it didn’t do anything. All you did was laugh.”

“No one is laughing at you, though.”

“What about this,” he asks and you have to look back down to see what he’s talking about.

You realize he’s talking about the small bullet vibrator that lay amongst the things he brought in the brown paper bag. He holds it up to your face so you can get a better view of what it is. You look away, already very familiar with it because you have a blue version in the shoebox under your bed.

“Some people do use those to get off, that’s true.”

“Then let’s put this in. It has a USB in it. Will it collect data?”

“Slow your roll. That thing is more for direct clit stimulation than insertion. It’s the same thing I used on myself last time, remember?”

You watch him inspect it. He finds the power button and turns it onto its lowest setting. The low buzz fills the room and reminds you just what type of activities you’re engaging in. Without a warning he lays the vibrating toy where he thinks remembers your clit is. He’s right and the sudden vibrations have one of your legs kicking out involuntarily. You let out a yelp and try to scramble backwards, but the headboard keeps you in your spot.

“Fuck!”

Jungkook throws back his head and laughs. It’s the type of laugh he does where its strong and high and rolling. In most situations its infectious, but here you’re mad that he’s taking advantage of your natural reactions.

“Your leg did that last time too,” he giggles before quickly writing down your reaction. “This is fun.” 

He approaches you with the toy again, this time remembering to circle your clit like you had demonstrated before. You just barely keep a moan from escaping. This time your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling assaulting your clit.

“Wow,” he breathes.

Again, he hurries to jot everything down in quick script with his free hand. In the porn he’d watched, it seemed like all rubbing a woman’s clit would get you was a coy smile and a musical lilting moan. Your reaction was far more visceral than he had expected. The way your back arched upwards looked almost painful, but there was something graceful about the way your body just took over.

“Okay,” you say harshly. You can feel the pricks of sweat creeping along your hairline and spine. Your body thinks its getting sex soon, but its mistaken. “I think that’s enough learning for today.”

“Oh, come on. We only did one round,” he whines.

“Pfft. That wasn’t even one round. I didn’t cum.”

His nose scrunches in confusion as he jots that down. “You didn’t? Then what was all that flailing you did and the stuff with your face.”

“I’m just…responsive. That’s all.”

“Well, you can’t quit. We agreed to do this all weekend, remember?”

“I know,” you sigh, and cover your eyes with your hands, “Let’s…just move on, okay? What do you think the next step is?”

He frowns a little, the corners of his mouth turning down anxiously. He reaches for one of the toys he brought, a slightly larger than average size dildo, and clutches it in two hands before inching it towards your pelvis.

“No,” your hands come out quickly before he impales you. “Jungkook, think. What’s missing from this situation? Why might it be too early for that?”

“Hold on,” he asks picking up his pen and paper and pinning you with a quizzical look. “Say that again?”

“You can’t just jump to inserting foreign objects.”

He furrows his brows. You watch as his thinking face comes out: the cute scrunched nose, cute pursed lips, cute round eyes filled with confusion. After a few beats, he comes up with something, his fingers snapping with the small victory.

“If I were jerking off right now,” you fight to keep the image from surfacing in your head, “I would need to make sure the friction wouldn’t cause lacerations or inflammation. And I bought this.” He hands you the gaudy pink bottle of lube and you frown once you read the label. Upon further inspection, you can see that its actually just hand cream. Cherry scented.

“Partial credit,” you say, handing it back to him.

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s not real lube and I don’t want a yeast infection.”

“But this is the only one I got,” he pouts.

His dejected face makes you want to wrap him up in the duvet. There is a solution he’s not thinking of, and you suppose there’s no better time than the present for someone to learn about foreplay. The possible complications that could arise are present in the back of your mind, but you figure since you’re doing this all for Yoori, you should go big or go home.

“Jungkook, are you forgetting the vaginas are self-lubricating? That’s a rookie move, even for you.”

His bright smile returns. “How could I forget. But how do we jumpstart the lubrication process? What’s the catalyst?”

“Well, you have to be,” you search for an elegant word but can’t find one, “You have to be turned on.”

“Well, what do I have to do to turn you on?”

The question is innocent in and of itself. But the way that Jungkook tilts his head like an eager puppy, lip trapped between his even, white teeth, smelling like soap and safety makes your stomach do flip flops. He looks up at you, and ponders what it would take to get your folds to become sticky with arousal like they were last time. His hands fidget with the pen and notebook, clearly at a loss for ideas about what the next step is.

“I-it’s different for every person. But foreplay is generally the best way to work someone up.”

His pen moves at an impressive speed as he writes down your words. “Fourplay? Like the number four?”

“Not really, no. I mean if you adhere to, like, the four bases, then sure.”

“What bases?”

“You know what I mean. The bases. The four F’s.” When he merely blinks up at you, no recognition suddenly lighting up his eyes, you realize he’s way more inexperienced than you thought. “French, feel, finger, fuck? Never heard of them?”

“Nope,” he says.

“Okay. Um, it’s a baseball metaphor for sex. Or, more accurately, the events that can lead up to it and then sex. The first one, French, refers to french kissing.”

“What’s Feel stand for?”

“Feel as in feeling someone up or groping them. Finger is pretty straight forward, it stands for fingering but really could be anything you do with the hands. And I guess oral falls into that category too.”

“Fuck is the whole sex, right?”

“Yes, it’s…the whole sex. But maybe just call it sex from now on?”

“Right,” he says. “Which ones would you need in order to lubricate?”

Your cheeks heat. “They’re all pretty much fine for me. I mean the order is pretty appropriate.”

His expression slowly morphs into one of intense thought before it contorts again into nervousness. “I’ve only ever kissed someone once. In middle school. I don’t remember it, but I don’t think I was very good at it.”

“Well, we don’t have to if you’re—”

“No, no, I wanna do it. It’ll be good if we do this now, so I can spend the rest of the time improving. You can help me. I’m sure Yoori likes to kiss people as well,” he says resolutely.

You shake your head to dislodge the idea of Yoori sitting on a throne and watching the evening’s events play out.

“Okay. Maybe we should just focus on one at a time, then.”

“Yeah.”

He tries to shuffle up next to you with his notebook and pen, but you make him leave them by the foot of the bed, explaining that he likely won’t be able to take notes anyway. Once he’s sitting next to you by the pillows, he awkwardly turns to you, neck craned at an uncomfortable angle. You sigh. He’s really not doing anything to help build an ambiance and you have to do it all yourself. You start by reaching out to take off his lab goggles, trying not to laugh at the pink lines they left on his face.

“I can’t see,” he pipes up as soon as you become a blurry shape in front of him.

“You weren’t wearing your contacts under those?”

“I don’t wear contacts. They’re too much of a hassle. And the goggles have prescription in them. It’s easier that way.”

“It’s fine. Most people close their eyes for this anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s easier than trying to focus on someone’s face an inch in front of you. Plus, it feels nice so you just kind of…close them.”

He merely nods and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are squeezed shut and his shoulders are nearly brushing his ears with how tensely he’s holding them.

“Kook,” you whisper, “Why are you all hunched up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just got scared for a second. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. There’s no need to worry.”

“How do these things normally begin?”

“Honestly? You just feel it coming when the mood is right. For now though, either one of us could just start.”

“Maybe I can start,” you’re surprised to hear him volunteering, “And you can take over if I get stuck.”

“Okay,” you whisper as he inches towards you.

You relax your jaw and let your eyes fall closed. Clearly he’s close or else you wouldn’t be able to smell his clean shower gel scent, but a few moments pass and he hasn’t done anything. You’re about to open your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he finally swoops in and plants a swift peck on your lips before backing away. It was too fast to really be anything close to a kiss. More just a dry bump of lips. You open your eyes again to find him peering at your nervously.

“I got stuck,” he mumbles. Even though he’s a few months older than you, the small way he sits after having had his second kiss makes you feel powerful. Not superior, just capable of taking care of him and showing him ‘the ropes’, whatever they may be.

“That’s okay.” You reach a hand out to glide across his cheek and settle in the hair at the nape of his neck and guide him forward. “You’ll get the flow in no time.”

The kiss starts out dry once again, Jungkooks lips are still closed a bit tightly due to his clenched jaw. But some gentle strokes of the shell of his ear with your thumb help coax him into following the way your lips caress his as best he can. It is, admittedly, a bit awkward at first because his rhythm is off, and you can tell he’s frustrated when you open an eye to peek at him and spy his hands scraping at his knees. He tilts his head, nose brushing yours softly, and then suddenly things slot into place. He manages to sync up with you when he pivots a bit and traps your bottom lip. A little surprised breath leaves you as the kiss stops feeling so one-sided and he pushes forward, emboldened by your response. You let the kiss carry on for a while now that the locomotion seems stable enough to be self-sustained. It’s not until his hands bump against your knee for the third time that you pull back minutely.

“You know, in a situation like this,” you bring one of his hands to rest at the curve of your neck, “It’s okay to consider touching her too.”

He can only nod at you, eyes hooded and a little cross eyed as he tries to focus on your silhouette without his glasses, before licking his lips and edging back in. This time he takes the lead. It starts softly, but you definitely don’t mind. His hair feels like silk in between your fingers and the hand you lay on his ribcage doesn’t scare him off. In fact, he seems to want to even the playing field now that you have both your hands on him and moves his free hand to your waist. The weight of his hand feels heavy and hot, and the area of his grasp as his fingers splay out over you reminds you just how big they are. 

Jungkook, being as affectionate as he is, doesn’t need to be told he can wander and soon his hand starts to pet a path down your side and across the small of your back in a mindless, slightly oblong cycle. You can feel the butterflies you felt earlier in your belly getting replaced with a familiar pressure, a faithful precursor to the exact slickness between your thighs that started this heavy petting session. But you figure, there’s all weekend and you’re in no rush. If you had a little devil on your shoulder it would be telling you to draw things out, reminding you that learning is something that takes time, and Jungkook loves to learn more than anyone else you know.

Your pull away again slightly, opting for pressing small iterative kisses on his lips and he chases your mouth, not ready to stop. Pushing forward, you leave kisses like stepping stones until he gets the hint and allows you to guide him into lying propped up on his back.

“It’s easier like this. Easier than sitting up, I mean,” you mutter when you finally have him gazing up at you from the pillows. You lay a hand a few inches below his heart, feeling how it races as he lay under you. “It’s also easier for me too if I sit like this.”

“Right.”

He watches you intently as you swing a leg over so you can straddle him and sit yourself in his lap. As soon as do, his hands return to your waist and yours settle on his biceps. Neither of your keep your hands in your initial starting positions and soon your hands end up back in his hair again. A long while passes before you realize that you still haven’t quite reached the first F.

“Jungkook,” you breathe between kisses.

“Yes?”

“You know what French kissing is, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you know how to do it? It might seem like a strange concept so if you want to skip—”

“No, I want to. I mean I want you to show me.”

“Okay.”

Keeping the mood is important, so you don’t jump into it right away. You’re very much aware that no one responds well to a tongue being shoved into their mouth. With that in mind, you kiss him like you did before, but sneak in a small swipe of the tip of your tongue against his bottom lip. He gasps and in the small moment of surprise, you probe a bit further. He gasps again when the muscle moves across his, but the movement is similar enough to how your lips molded against his earlier that it doesn’t take him too long to get the hang of it. When his tongue slides to edges of your teeth you can’t help but let out a tiny moan. Almost as if a switch was flipped, Jungkook’s arms come to wrap around you tightly, crashing you to his chest and he moves like he’s trying to devour you. At first, there’s a bit too much saliva, but with a well-placed hand on his jaw, you maneuver him into a pattern that’s a little less like a washing machine, but he gets too close-lipped. Another well-placed turn of his jaw puts him right on balance. It’s damn near perfect and, in truth, you’re certain that you could get off like this; with the slick sounds of your mouths working together and the sounds of his periodic gasps fill the room like a symphony underneath you. You dig your blunt nails into the muscle of his thigh and use all of your willpower not to beg him to let you pull down his pants and sink down on his length.

You plant a trail of kisses down his neck before pulling back, suffocating in your pullover. He blinks up slowly at you, about to ask if he overstepped his bounds, but then you grasp both his hands and bring them to where the hem of your baby tee ends. You’re about to take advantage of the whole ‘For Yoori’ situation, but you’re so desperate you don’t care that you’re being an ass.

“What is it?”

“Yoori might be the type of girl to want her boobs played with a little.” You reach behind yourself and under the shirt to unfasten the bra underneath. He squints and then his eyes grow wide as he watches you slide the bra off without ever lifting your shirt. “I mean, that always does the trick for me.”

With that, you lift his hands the last few inches until he’s cupping your breasts. He squeezes a little, tests the weight of them in each large hand. He’s fascinated at the way your nipples seem to appear from out of nowhere to push behind the fabric. He brushes his thumbs over the two peaks and smiles when you’re head drops forward and you scrabble to clutch at his shoulders.

“They’re soft,” his tone is dumbstruck and he squeezes again.

“Yeah, they are. Hey, if you pinch them, she might get really wet. Try--mmm--rolling them between your fingers.”

He heeds your suggestion and plays with your chest until you realize you’ve been grinding against his sweatpants covered leg, completely soaking the fabric with a growing dark spot.

“Looks like you’re ready,” he says softly, the wetness finally accumulating enough to be tangible. “Do we stop now?”

“Do you want to stop?”

He chews a bit on his lip and debates lying so he doesn’t seem needy before remembering it’s you he’s dealing with.

“No,” he finally says.

“We can keep going,” you pull him by his collar to help him sit up. “Are you comfortable like this?”

He nods before sitting up a little, dragging you with him as he moves. You settle back and then you’re pinning him with a look. Curiosity keeps you from immediately going back in to kiss him despite the fact that he just admitted to you that he wanted to continue. The air fills with challenge, the light experimental feeling replaced, and he senses it just like you do. He doesn’t try to steer things back to the way they were though, and instead he takes a moment to enter your space. His breath puffs against your cheek while he gathers his bearings.

“You said you can tell when the mood is the right one for a kiss.”

You hold your breath and think of what to say. Everything feels so fragile and you can practically see the way things are headed but you don’t want to break the tumultuous balance.

“Does right now seem like the right moment to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

Jungkook is definitely a prodigy or something. Never in your life have you seen someone so good at picking up new skills as quickly as he does. This is something you’re familiar with and yet you still bury your hands in his shirt out of surprise when his own hand suddenly appears at the back of your neck to pull you in. He tilts his head and kisses you like he’s dehydrated and you’re a softly babbling stream. Each time his lips work over you, you feel as though he’s drinking, like he’s pulling something from you. Something you’ve been dying to have him accept from you for a long while. There’s something soft about the way his tongue slides over yours and it’s so tender and everything you want but its also not enough.

He’s solid underneath you and his skin feels almost feverish with how warm it is. There’s strength in the sinewy bundles that cord under your roaming touch and you want to see him put it to use on you so badly that it frustrates you and bleeds into your kiss. You forget where you are and nip at his lip harshly, though not enough to damage. You forget that you haven’t introduced Jungkook to the rougher parts of amorous activities until he tenses underneath you while letting out a low and guttural groan, hands clutching at your hips tightly and then releasing with a nervous flutter.

“Sorry,” he says shyly as his hands come to rest in the part of his lap that you’re not occupying.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one that bit you.”

“I just meant sorry for…poking you” he can’t finish his sentence because his tongue is tied with embarrassment. You figure he’s talking about how he grabbed you when you bit him and brush it off. Then you feel him thick and hard, nudging your inner thigh.

“Oh. There’s no need to be sorry.”

“But this isn’t about me, this is about--”

“Jungkook,” you stop him with a light hand on his collarbone. “I know your main goal is to be able to please Yoori, but sex is a two-way street. You’re allowed to feel good too.”

“I—okay.” His shoulders are still rounded into himself in a way that makes it clear to you he’s still dwelling on his erection. On instinct you’re moving back in to plant soft kisses on his cheek. You know you’re blurring lines a little by doing so, but you want him to stop feeling so bad.

“Hey, it’s really not an issue. In fact,” you kiss your way to the plush corner of his pouting mouth, “We can really work with this. Let’s try something.”

“What are we going to—Oh!”

His breath leaves him in almost pained huff as you move to slot your dripping center over the bulge in his sweats. A moan sublimates between your mouths and you’re honestly not sure who it came from as you relish in the feel of the drag of the material against your clit. You press kisses to the line of his throat before sucking a bruise at the place where shoulder meets neck. The feeling of your tongue laving small cycles into his skin has his eyes fluttering shut.

After a certain age, Jungkook knew that despite having skipped a few grades, and never having an unweighted GPA of less than 4.46, there were things that  some of his peers were becoming aware of but would remain mysterious to him. A few petty classmates had also reminded him on a regular basis that he may only ever know the feeling of relief when it was supplied by his own lubed up right hand. It didn’t worry him much because he assumed that was the fate all those who devoted their lives to science until he watched his peers begin to date as well. Suddenly he was monitoring the freshman night lab by himself on Friday nights because his shift partner was going on dates.nQuickly after that, he was convinced that he’d never get to feel the warmth of another body under his palms. 

So as his hands move to stroke your up your sides to your ribs, over your breasts, and back down again while bucking up into your heat, he feels a swell of something towards you. It must be gratitude because you’re giving him a gift. The ability to feel and hold someone while they’re in the throes of an orgasm he produced. And because of this, he’ll be able to do it with Yoori, the girl of his dreams.

He opens his eyes to stare up at your face which is scrunched up in pleasure. It’s amazing, he notes, how easy it is to do all these new things with you. Even the initial fear of failure that he often gets with new subjects fades away in an instant when you put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

You’re warm above him and soft under his hands where he kneads at your chest. He flexes a thigh to give himself so leverage to hump up against you and you whine at the way he now presses firmly against your core. You bury your face in his neck and snap your hips forward. The abrupt onslaught of friction takes him by surprise and he’s coming in his pants after not ten minutes of dry humping with you in between his Thor sheets. The pleasure is so intense that his vision whites out as he cums and he throws all caution to wind as it rips through him. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, a whine leaving him as he slumps back into the pillows.

You fall back with him and let out a small ‘oof’. A quick glance at his sweat drenched and flushed face tells you he must have had a good time. Strong arms are still locked around your waist and the surprise of falling distracted you from chasing your own high, so you merely wriggle out of his grasp and sit back on your heels.

“Good?”

He gives you a wry smile that you usually only see when he’s been drinking. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you say as you hop of the bed and pull on your forgotten joggers before picking up your backpack.

“Wait! Where are you going?” His tone is open and clearly distressed. He fumbles for the prescription goggles that rest on the night table by the bed and shoves them onto his face roughly.

“To shower? My stuff is in my backpack.”

“Oh. Well…did you bring a sleeping bag?”

“No, but I brought a blanket and a pillow for the couch.”

“Don’t sleep on the couch,” you raise an incredulous brow and he backpedals. “We all spent 4 hours farting into that couch because no one wanted to pause the game.”

“Not me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” your face heats up. Whether or not you’re lying is none of his business and you’ll fart where you please without feeling shamed for it. “I’ll just sleep in here. I guess.”

Your time in the bathroom is stressful. Leaving his bedroom, you had a mean case of blue balls and you weren’t sure you could deal with them in his bathroom. It’s never something you imagined you’d have to do while you were at his place, though its not the first time you’ve spent the night or showered there. Game night can get long and you’ve spent many a night fighting Hoseok for hot water in Jungkook’s dorm. After some long and hard thinking about the long and hard thing in Jungkook’s pants, you decide he isn’t the only person who gets to do things for the first time and guide the detachable the shower head between your legs with a fist in your mouth to muffle your moans.

Jungkook is exactly where you left him when you return from the shower, but you can’t face him as you turn back the covers on your half of the bed.

“How was your shower?”

“It was a shower, it was fine.”

“Okay,” he says after a beat.

“I’ll try to be quiet when I leave for yoga. You can keep the light on if you’re not going to sleep right now.”

Up until you said that, Jungkook was tired, but he stays up until your breathing slows and deepens with sleep. It’s drastically different from the way your breath hitched loudly in the shower. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, he just wanted some water before bed. But there was something almost musical about the sounds of your choked off moans as you tried to be quiet in the bathroom. He’s proud to say that he didn’t linger once he realized what was going on. He went straight back to his room when his dick twitched in his pants.

Now that you’re asleep, he ventures out the clean himself up before returning. You’ve stolen his pillow to clutch over your face by the time he’s come back. Your pillow from home is still wedged safely under your head and he doesn’t want to wake you. He’s left with no other option than to rest his head on your stomach. If he doesn’t, he won’t sleep at all without a pillow and that’s no good. This is clearly the only solution. Clearly.

When you wake up the next morning 5 minutes before your alarm because you can’t breathe because there’s a giant weight on your chest. The weight is actually Jungkook and you’re not sure what to do. 

Apparently, you spend 5 minutes not sure what to do because your alarm starts, waking Jungkook with more confidence than you ever could. You watch with fascination as his eyes open slowly, and wriggling out from under you to wipe at the corners. He turns, resting his chin near your belly button and blinks sleepily at you, gears turning slowly before registering where he is and what he’s doing. You chance a small smile at him.

“Morning.”

“Good morning,” he says. His stare is intense and you wonder if maybe you look haggard or messy.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t respond and instead inches forward with a look of determination. When he’s an inch in front of your face you realize what he’s doing, but its too late to complain about morning breath or being late to Saturday morning yoga. 

It’s not long before he’s licking into your mouth slowly, giving you a chance to pull back, change the pace, tweak something. But there’s nothing to change. It doesn’t taste great but it feels amazing and your hands reach up to pull him down onto you without a thought. He groans and tentatively rubs his thumb over the swell of your breast that peeks through the side of your sleeveless sleep tank.

You miss yoga.

[zizeschmizes]

that familiar feeling. | solo

WHO: lauren zizes (& the zizes bro squad)

WHAT: a post-thanksgiving dinner hangout, with bonus chaotic sibling energy.

WHEN: 11/28; evening

WHERE: zizes home; new orleans, la.

The last guest was long gone, and the cleanup had been, as always, a family effort. Everyone doing their part to return the house back to some kind of order. Everyone had a job, and Lauren, stickler for organization that she was, had been tasked with putting away the leftovers in a reasonable and tidy manner. 

It was a wonder there was any food left; her mother, as per usual had gone overboard. But it was for good reason. As tradition, their dinner usually included some of her brothers' teammates, the guys unable to travel home for the holiday, for whatever reason. There were five of them this year, nice guys who complimented the cooking and talked football with her father and charmed her mother and younger brothers. At least they'd been expected, their places planned for at the dinner table.

If anything she was the anomaly. The interloper, the surprise guest showing up unexpectedly. After landing at the airport, she'd taken a Lyft home, laughing at the look of surprise on her father's face when he opened the front door. She hadn't discussed her plans with anyone; staying at Ginsburg had been the idea...until the drama, most of it not hers, but the small part that was, it was enough to convince her that a break was necessary. Feeling tired, overworked, and wanting to be in a setting that felt familiar seemed too good to pass up. 

The food was packed up, the kitchen was clean, the guests were gone, her parents had retired to bed, and Lauren could finally change into comfy clothes and settle in a favorite spot. In the den, on the massive sectional, sandwiched between two of her favorite people. Her younger brothers had been especially excited to see her, nearly tackling her in a combo hug, towering over her in a way that made her chest ache because she missed them so much. They stuck close to her, surprising considering the last thing most 15 year old boys wanted was to be babied by their big sister, but here they were. João, taller than she'd remembered, sprawled on the sofa, body taking up a good amount of room while his head rested on Lauren's lap. 

He kept dozing off, unfocused on the show they were supposed to be watching, his content state heightened by Lauren's fingers combing through his dark brown curls. Matheus, however, was the total opposite of his twin, squished beside Lauren and talking animatedly about the show, which had been his pick and Lauren had to admit she was more focused on his commentary than the actual plot. Matty had a way of making everything feel more elaborate, injecting a streak of dramatic flair typical in the Zizes household. Lauren missed it. The noise and nonsense she'd grown so familiar with, different from the college atmosphere that had been her reality for the past few months. 

Their chatter was interrupted by Gabe, yanking the remote from Matty's grasp and tumbling over the back of the couch, nearly landing on top of the younger boy who luckily had the good sense to roll out of the way, landing on the floor between the coffee table and the couch. 

"Seriously?" Lauren glanced over at Gabe, who managed to balance a large bowl in the middle of his chaotic entrance, never spilling a chip as he stuck his landing. 

"What? He moved. That Zizes instinct comin' through." Matty seemed no worse for wear, making a comfortable spot on the floor and accepting the bowl of Doritos when Gabe passed it down, his gaze never leaving the television screen. 

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Y'all are ridiculous. You could’ve broken his damn neck.” Her grumble was cut short when, out of nowhere, a hand came whizzing by. João, reaching overhead, past Lauren to grab a handful of chips, shoveling them in his mouth with a loud crunching noise. “Dammit, Jojo! You almost hit me.” 

His ‘sorry’ was muffled by chewing and Lauren scowled waiting a beat before bopping him on the forehead. 

“Next time just ask for the bowl, dummy. How are y’all still eatin’ after all that food?” 

Gabe shrugged and sank lower in his seat, enough to prop his sock covered feet on the coffee table. “I’m a growing boy. I ain’t wanna dig around in all those bowls. You got the fridge locked up. Chips was easier.” He offered her the bowl as a peace offering and despite her glare, it didn’t stop her from swiping a few. Dark eyes, much like her own glanced at the screen and he frowned. “What the hell are y’all watching?” 

“Matty picked. I think it’s some Star Wars thing?” 

There came a huff from the floor, and Matheus lifted his head from her knee. “It’s ‘The Mandalorian’, Lo. I said that twenty minutes ago.” 

“Okay, so I was right. It was a Star Wars thing.” 

Gabe snorted beside her. “Turn it off, I haven’t watched the first ep yet, I don’t wanna be spoiled.” 

Lauren reached for a few more chips, grabbing a handful and pointing with her pinky at Gabe’s lap. “You have the remote, genius. Just switch it to something everybody wants to watch. Don’t put on those NatGeo docs, bout to put everybody to sleep.” 

Matty laughed. “Jojo’s already asleep.” 

“No I’m not!” came the sleep-filled reply from her sweatpants-covered lap and Lauren looked down at her little brother, who was busy wiping crumbs from his face. “Lo, you’re getting Dorito dust on me.” 

“Yeah well that’s what you get for almost smackin’ me, we’re even.” She rubbed her fingers together, laughing at his grumbling because despite it, she knew he wasn’t moving. “Where’s Nono?” she asked Gabe, who was still busy browsing through Netflix and vetoing Matty’s suggestions. 

“Think he’s still talking to Zara on the phone. Makin’ plans to link up after practice.” Gabe tossed the remote to Matty, and turned his full attention on Lauren. “You stayin’ for the game on Saturday? Watch us bust some Aggie ass?”

Lauren nibbled at her bottom lip. She'd forgotten about the possibility of a football game. Already figuring it would be a reality for winter break, in her haste to get away from Ginsburg for the holiday, it had slipped her mind. 

"My flight back to school is Saturday," she replied, unsure if she was relieved or annoyed. At herself. More than likely at the situation. Dinner had been spent literally surrounded by football, her brother teammates piled into the large dining room they only ever used for holidays and big parties. And at first, Lauren had completely disappeared amongst the talk of plays and stats and names, occasionally cracking a smile at a stray joke, her grin growing when her eyes happened to catch her father's. Her parents seemed happy to see her. Her father clutched her tightly and kissed her forehead, the warmth behind it making her feel most at home. 

And she supposed her mother, with her busy to-do list that involved ordering the rest of them around with chopping and shopping and cleaning and organizing didn't have much time for her usual spiel. Again, the surprise drop in was good for something. She'd managed a quick kiss to her daughter's cheek and promptly sent her on an errand. Lauren figured come Christmastime, she wouldn't be so lucky. 

For his part, Gabe took the news of her departure easily. Then again, that was his way. Of all her brothers, the two were more alike, in looks and temperament. Where Antonio was the quiet, responsible type, Gabe was loud, the center of attention and quick with a joke. The two of them bumped heads, but never really outright clashed, trading snarky comments back and forth until a peace offering (usually food) was suggested. 

“There’s always games,” he replied easily. “You’ll catch another one.” They turned their attention back to the television, where Matty had found something else to watch (Black Panther) and managed to snatch the bowl of chips from his older brother, setting it beside him so he could share with his twin. 

“Thanks, for not giving me shit about it.” 

Gabe shook his head. “It’s just football, Lozinha. I realize sayin’ that’s a cardinal sin ‘round here. But you haven’t been into this shit since we were in high school. It’s cool. Although…” he turned to his sister, big grin on his handsome face and Lauren knew it was bound to be something that would no doubt annoy her. “If you did show up, I know of at least three dudes who’d be pretty hype about that.” 

She made a face. “Please don’t push me off on your football pals, it’s so weird. Not to mention unnecessary.” 

“You say ‘unnecessary’, I say Cameron was staring hard and it wasn’t the turkey he was eyeballin’.” 

Lauren rolled her eyes, her annoyance only rising at Gabe’s loud laughter, but smiled when the twins both shushed him. She had noticed Cameron, catching her eyes whenever she looked up and making sure they were seated beside each other at dinner. 

He was sweet enough, a junior linebacker studying sports medicine with dreams of being a physical therapist, and he listened attentively while she talked about Ginsburg and her major. Their conversation had been pleasant, but it was a typical dinner talk: polite and surface-level and though she enjoyed it, hadn’t thought much more about it, especially when she had other matters to attend to, mainly cleaning. A total gentleman, he bid her goodnight and leaned in for a hug, a one-armed gesture that ended with a gentle squeeze of her hip, which...okay that might’ve been forward...but she didn’t dwell on it, simply brushing it off as friendly.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. He’s nice but he lives here. I’m at Ginsburg. Plus I’m not really looking for that right now.” 

“Uh-huh…” Gabe trailed off, studying his sister’s profile. “Soooo, is that ‘cause you already have something? And when are you gonna let me talk to your crew? Do they know you’ve got a hot single brother? Like come on, what good is having a sister if I can’t hit on your fine ass friends?”

“That is a lot of stupid happening in one sentence,” she replied, laughing. “I’m not letting my friends anywhere near you. Besides, you already got a school-full of folks you can charm, get outta my friends list.” 

“Jeez, be selfish. But you could be keeping me from the love of my life. I hope you’re happy.” 

“My one mission’s to make your ass miserable so yep, I’m pretty content right now.” 

Gabe snorted. “It’s possible you came back a bigger pain in the ass.”

“It’s a required Gins elective. Bad Bitch 101.” Lauren flipped her hair, laughing when João grumbled about being jostled. She ruffled his hair, letting her fingers linger to card gently through his curls. 

“Are you two done?” Matheus grumbled from below. “We’re tryin’ to watch something here.” 

“Yeah whatever,” Gabe said, leaning forward to bop his younger brother on the shoulder. “You’ve seen this like a million times. Gimme the chips and put on something we all wanna watch.” 

“I don’t mind watching it,” came a voice from behind and Lauren looked up to see Antonio entering the den, tumbling over the back of the sectional much like Gabe did, settling beside his brother, and throwing an arm over the back of the couch. 

“Are y’all incapable of sitting on the couch like regular folk? I mean, damn.” Her question was met by a chorus of boos and Gabe, having recovered the chip bowl threw a Dorito at her, which she promptly caught in her mouth. 

“Nice. Learned that from one of those Ginsburg’s electives?” 

Lauren shook her head. “Nah, just that Zizes instinct comin’ through.” Grinning, she leaned her head on Gabe’s shoulder, finally focusing on the Wakandian action on-screen as her brothers passed the bowl between them, feeling completely at ease in the familiarity of it all. She really missed this.

[tellywoodtrash]

Weekends are for watching truly trashy TV...

... (as opposed to irony-watching semi-trash) so this week I decided to forego my newest addiction Divya Drishti to binge the new AltBalaji show BOSS: Baap of Special Services.

[crowd yelling: “... But TT you’re always going on about not caring for KSG! You’re adamant about it and battle anon wank on the topic! How could you possibly......?????”]

Well kids, all I can say is don’t try to put me in a box. For all my highfalutin media snobbery, there’s also that side of me which has watched KRK’s Deshdrohi multiple times. (Only to discover that one of my college-mates was an extra in the songs. True story, mummy kasam.) I honest-to-god have a favt. movie featuring Sonu Nigam as an "actor". No, not the cult classic Jaani Dushman, but the equally noteworthy Love In Nepal. Which I have also seen multiple times, because the amount of cheap kicks I get from Sonu's ridiculous hamming is indescribable. Anyway, I’m trash for the professional-couple-with-opposing-personalities trope (especially in the field of law enforcement), and was majorly missing B99 (HOW LONG TILL THE NEXT SEASON GODDAMNIT?????)/Krishna Arjun (WHY WON’T YOU JUST PUT IT UP ALREADY, HOTSTAR?????????) so I decided to scratch the itch with this. (Also this blasted weather has brought an influx of mutant mosquitoes into my house, so watching this was also an attempt to keep my mind off those literal itches. I'm not an NRI anymore, but my body hasn't gotten the memo yet and continues to overreact to every bug bite.)

Plot:

It was pretty much what I expected from the trailer; a middling crime/mystery series with occasional moments of the mildest intrigue. It has a ‘case of the episode’ format, with each resolution sorta feeding into the larger mystery driving the plot. The smaller cases are completely unremarkable; always a murder (I used to think Shimla was a chill place with relatively low crime rates? Apparently not; in this show's universe the murdering is so bad, a whole special task force has to be formed - with like, national-level shooting champions and imported super-cops from other states.) The bigger mystery is the only compelling part of the show, keeping me invested to watch till the end. I wouldn't say it had a completely satisfying wrap-up (a too-tidily ghusaaya hua culprit and motive in the end; not to mention loose ends that just went nowhere. For eg. they introduce - never show - a character that the lead has been obsessing about for months now and goes to great lengths to track down, only to be casually told that he died a few months ago. And like...... nothing. We just move on, zero frustration.) but at least it brought like 2.67% complexity to the main lead beyond “Satyromanic Sherlock”.

A more appropriate name for the show would have been BOSH: Baap of Sexual Harassment, coz KSG's character spends most of his screentime leering at the nearest adult woman and propositioning her with the most unimaginatively sexist innuendo. Said woman (other than our stern female lead, of course) is so bowled over that she’s immediately willing to get it on with him on closest stable surface that can support the weight of 2 people. Each episode has on an average of 2-3 utterly tacky and tasteless sex scenes which I promptly forwarded the fuck through. Everyone knows I'm a tharki of the first order, so you can guess just how distasteful they were to get ME to do that. (Does KSG have some kinda clause in his non primetime-TV contracts that he must be given scenes to paw at a woman in the most unattractive manner?) The reaction to all this nonsense is always smirky admiration from the other men, and disgust from female lead. Except for when he puts the moves on her in later eps; then she reacts with coy exasperation. I cannot (yet somehow also can - because we truly do live in the darkest timeline) believe something like this got made and released in the #MeToo era? Forget #MeToo, the leads more than once wake up with the people in bed next to them murdered, and it has like zero legal repercussions beyond a withering glare, so THAT's the kinda universe we're operating in.

Cast:

KSG‘s made 'charming haraami with/without heart of gold’ his go-to role over the years now, so this is right in his wheelhouse. I've seen him give a waaaay more compelling performance in QH so eh... Can't say I was too impressed with him here. This was just Law Enforcement Armaan. An errant man-child doing whatever the fuck he wants and getting by in life thanks to conventional attractiveness. His facial hair situation is also very distracting; the continuity lapses rivaling Iqra Aziz's hair in SC2.

I haven't watched Sagarika Ghatge in anything other than Chak De, so I'm genuinely wondering: is she capable of anything other than ‘sullen girl who's constantly making an annoyed/perplexed face’? Her face occasionally relaxes into a wry smirk, but other than that, she could be Captain Holt's Desi Spirit Daughter. I couldn't quite tell if it's the stereotypical role of ‘female cop who has to be a strict stickler to be taken seriously in a male-dominated profession’, or if she just doesn't have the range. Maybe it's both? It’s probably both.

Gaurav Gera shows up as a sidekick to KSG - some kinda "hacker" who regularly comes to school the police's cyber-crime head - because she's a woman, how could she possibly be the authority on tech stuff? Anything that keeps him from making more of those dumb "shopkeeper" vids is a good thing in my book, I guess. Sagarika's character has two sidekicks - who contribute nothing to the investigation part, they just serve as muscle who chase the fleeing suspects and haul them into the police van. Ayaz Khan toh I suspect just took the role to get to hang out with best bro KSG in Shimla for a few days, coz his character is an undistinctive personality-less blob. The sidekick cop who's not Ayaz (aforementioned shooting champion) looked super familiar; it took me like 3 episodes to realize it's the dude who plays Komolika's deranged brother in KZK these days. The insta clips of him constantly attacking one Sharma sister or another is where I knew him from. He plays his character with some bright-eyed earnestness and is mostly tolerable, if completely forgettable.

Minor bright spot(s): Mishal Raheja as a grey character! Now there's the charming haraami I'd want to watch a whole show about! Also Daljiet Kaur in a tiny but important role; kind of a chilling AU version of Anjali from IPK, if she didn't have Arnav in her life to balance out her constantly-teteering-on-the-brink waala mental instability.

Overall Impression:

Lol, I can't recommend it or anything, but if you miss watching the OG 1990s/2000s-era episodes of CID, but with a 400% more cringeyass sexual situations straight out of soft porn, I guess you can go for it? Pretty sure it's no more a waste of time than the newest Bhai movie that's released on Prime.

[winxwannabe]

Winx 801 Personal Thoughts

I also wrote an episode summary, you can find that here, and the raw episode here.

Overall, TL:DR - it’s like a 7/10, maybe 8. Good nods to previous seasons, great characterization, I like the set up and have hope for later episodes

Animation/Style

I’ve made it clear before I hate how the Specialists look, and that’s honestly not really important because who cares what I think.  Everyone else looks fine, with the exception of Flora and Layisha for obvious reasons.  Even more annoying is that the series literally opens up with a closeup of a fairy of color, fucking same eye color as Flora, but we had to change her to be white now.  And this nameless fairy is ADORABLE, look at her!

so like idk, it’s cool to have POC in the background of a show, but main cast? Nah.  And I’m preaching to the choir I know, but just something about it made me stare into an imaginary camera like I’m in The Office.  Other than that I will say it’s animated well, we’re using some 3D models and putting the characters in in 2D, which can seem odd if you aren’t used to it.  But I prefer it over a 2D/3D split, so that’s a win.

The other character we see with a major redesign is Kiko, and I am still...unsure.  He kinda looks like a stuffed animal, but his character has remained unchanged so there’s that.

Outfits

Because it wouldn’t be Winx Club without them.  I love the civilian outfits the girls have, I think they’re beautiful and - with the exception of Musa’s - are reflective of their original styles (not to say Musa’s is bad, I like her outfit. But it’s far more girly than her S1 attire).  Their ‘Rockstar’ outfits are fine as well, though not a personal favorite.  Those PJs though...yikes. @magentafairy​ and I agreed it looks like Stella bought some curtains and made PJs out of them.

Also here’s hoping we see the boys without their Power Rangers uniforms this season.  BUT NOT RIVEN IN A GODDAMN ASCOT.  Like why did someone do that?

Characterization/Interactions

I don’t know who finally took the reigns back, but the characterization here is on point, and easily my favorite part of the episode.  Musa’s quiet, slightly loner personality from the first seasons of Winx comes through, Brandon’s Macho-ness that quickly reverts into being a giant dork, Griselda being a stickler for the rules (and ready to fight Knut) - it’s all just great.

There’s also genuine friend moments with the Winx (especially in their dorm), and the Specialists at Red Fountain.  Not to mention when they’re together at Alfea Tecna and Timmy blow up an experiment and everyone’s reaction is just like ‘lol yeah expected.’  It’s an aura of ‘we can make fun of each other because we’ve known each other for years,’ and I really like it.

Other Thoughts

Tecna and Timmy have always been a great couple, you guys are just blind.

Bloom has a ‘pixel Sky’ on her phone and it’s the ugliest thing Ive ever seen.

graphic design is my passion.

There’s like a C Plot of Kiko and the Lumen/Twinkly being bros, but not before he fuckin tried to murder it with a hammer.

We see Valtor’s evil minion from the trailer in the episode, but not Valtor himself, which actually made me happy and hope for a big reveal later on.  It gives a hint of “SRS BSNSS,” which is a welcome change.

So yeah, there are plenty of good parts of this episode, but I still need to get used to the design, and I may have missed good parts due to the language barrier.  With any luck we’ll get the english episode on YouTube soon, and I’m honestly looking forward to it.

[thebibliomancer]

50 More Days of Comics! 27/50: G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero! #30 (1984)

Somehow I forgot that Marvel had the license to make G.I. Joe comics.

Marvel sure handled a lot of licenses back in the day! Doctor Who, Transformers, GI Joe, Star Wars, ElfQuest, Groo the Wanderer, 2001 Space Odyssey, Micronauts, ROM Space Knight.

And people have fond memories of a lot of these. I guess Marvel licensed good and then probably crossed the license over with X-Men for good measure.

Interestingly, Marvel basically created the premise that G.I. Joe became known for. Writer Larry Hama took an unused pitch for a special anti-Hydra SHIELD team called Fury Force and repurposed it. Hydra became Cobra. And G.I. Joe became at one point Marvel’s best selling comic.

Its both super easy and weirdly unsettling imagining G.I. Joe existing in the Marvel universe though. Cobra would fit in with a lot of their weirdo evil groups like AIM and Hydra. But, I dunno, I can’t as easily see the Joes co-existing with SHIELD for some reason. I try to imagine them existing as separate entities and they just glorrrrrp together into the Venture Bros OSI in my brainmeats.

But look at me trying to talk around the book. Which has a cover where three shirtless dudes in vests beat up an airplane.

Are we sure this isn’t a Street Fighter comic? Street Fighters love beating up parked vehicles. Its inexplicable.

The three airplane dudes from the cover (apparently motorcycle riding henchmen called Dreadnoks?) and master of disguise Zartan are loitering outside McGuire airforce base for reasons I’m sure would be perfectly reasonable if I had read G.I.JOE: A Real American Hero! #29 when they spot a familiar helicopter landing.

It is a helicopter that raided their lair in Florida. And is now landing at McGuire. In New Jersey.

Goddamn the Joes are uneconomical.

Anyways, yes, it’s a Joecoptor (sold separately) and Zartan disguises himself as boss-Joe Hawk to investigate. He finds that the helicopter is unloading a wounded Wild Bill to place on an ambulance. Wild Bill reports that they lost a copter but also burned Cobra’s Florida operation off the map.

Zartan as Hawk awkwardly salutes Wild Bill, trying to cover that he doesn’t actually know the man’s name.

Zartan calls Cobra Commander and tells him about this choice intel and Cobra Commander is faiiiirly sure that G.I. Joequarters are hidden somewhere in McGuire so he cobra commands Zartan and the Dreadnoks to keep an eye on the place.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, on Staten Island, some Cobra operatives (Cobratives?) under cover of being a Normal Family purchase a house near Fort Wadsworth and fill it with an excessive amount of surveillance gear.

“It’ll be set up and operational by midnight. We’re not going to miss anything!”

Aaaaaaaaas the ambulances carrying the wounded Joes drive into Fort Wadworth and take a secret elevator from the motor pool down into Joequarters.

Waa waa waaaaa~

Cobra comedy.

Of course, the Joes have their own moment when Wild Bill sees Hawk in the Joequarters and wonders how he got here from the airport so fast. But Hawk has been in the base all day! So who did Wild Bill see at McGuire?? (It was Zartan)

Meanwhile some more, in Springfield, at the offices of the Arbco Brothers Circus, a young boy or maybe a teen boy named Billy is snooping at the circus records because under guise of circus is how Cobra has been moving troops and tanks around the country!

In fact, a contingent of circus trucks driven by Cobra Commander is on its way to McGuire right now. God forbid he get pulled over because he is wearing the full reflective visor while driving.

Anyway, Billy gets caught by the Baroness but she seemingly wants Billy to join her against Cobra? I dunno, maybe she was splinter factioning.

Meanwhile, back at Staten Island, Cobra Fred finally finishes setting up all the surveillance equipment just to receive a call recalling him back to Springfield because Cobra Commander believes that he’s found the GI Joe headquarters and doesn’t need spies all over the place anymore.

And as Fred and his wife or maybe the person undercover as his wife smash the surveillance equipment in rage at the ten hours wasted setting up the equipment, Fred bemoans.

Fred: “Ten hours it took to set up this gear – and I didn’t even get a chance to turn it on for one minute!”

As a convoy of GI Joe vehicles pass his house and his now broken surveillance equipment that would have revealed a heavy Joe presence at Fort Wadsworth.

Waa waa waaaaaa~

In the intervening hours, the Joes contacted the McGuire sentries who saw ‘Hawk’ come onto the base and they reported a glowing and shimmering. Which clues the Joes in that the ‘Hawk’ was actually Zartan under holographic disguise.

Better safe than sorry, they mobilize a few tanks and assorted vehicles (sold separately) to McGuire.

Meanwhile, AGAIN, the Dreadnoks have finished cutting a hole in the McGuire fence so that when Cobra arrives they can just drive on in. But they’re dumb and bored so against Zartan’s orders, they decide to sneak onto the base to break stuff just for the sake of breaking stuff.

So a rare occasion: the cover of a comic being 100% truthful! Some dudes break a plane just because!

A Dreadnok: “Zartan said Cobra Commander was a stickler for detail! I’ve just de-tailed this plane!”

Another Dreadnok: “Detail? De-tail! I get it! Har!!”

These guys have fun.

The circus trucks arrive and start unloading Cobra Hiss Tanks and Snap Helicopters (sold separately). Cobra Commander wants this done clever and quiet. The tanks and helicopters are to stand by to cover withdrawal by the insertion unit.

But here’s something: Dreadnok Buzzer accidentally caused a loud, obvious explosion while vandalizing a plane cuing the control tower that something is going on. Obviously, they signal the alarm.

With stealth kaput, Cobra Commander makes an ehxecutive decision and goes eh whatever, full frontal assault and has the tanks and helicopters charge the control tower.

Cobra Commander also spots the Dreadnoks fleeing the mess they made and realizes that they’re the ones that botched his plan. But he’ll Deal With Them Later.

As for the Dreadnoks, they run right into the Joes. But since the Joes just got the alert from the tower, they let the Dreadnoks go so they can deal with the more obvious problem.

The control tower blinds the Hiss tanks with the searchlights but the Snap copters shoot out the lights.

Speaking of the Snap Helicopters. Nothing looks quite so blatantly toylike as them. They’re ridiculously small for a helicopter and the blades are right above the pilot’s head in the OPEN COCKPIT. It looks like the slightest turbulence would lead to chunky salsa.

Anyway, after all this meanwhiles and goof and counter goof, the actual battle is over quickly. The Joes quickly take out the Cobra attack force and the last Snap copter swoops down so Cobra Commander can escape under cover of explosion.

The next morning, Hawk jokes to Ace that Uncle Sam will buy him a new Sky Striker while Ace grouses that he had just broken in this one.

And in a tiny boat, Destro and another silhouette plot revenge against Cobra Commander’s treachery in Florida by rejoining him in Springfield and pretending they suspect nothing. And then when he least suspects it: revenge probably!

Geez this is a very continuity dense book. Gotta give it to Larry Hama because this is a book in which a lot of things happened. Hence the meanwhiles meanwhiles meanwhiles. But because it was all leading up to one event: the Cobra attacking McGuire and getting repelled by the Joes, its all condensed into one book instead of drawing it out. Probably for the best. We know that the Cobras are operating under false assumptions so imagine waiting several months for the farce to fully pay off.

But it was a very dense book and it doesn’t really have a recap page or a character page or remind you who is who and why and what they’re about so its very dense and very impenetrable to the poor idiot that jumps on at issue 30. Why would you do that?

I dunno. The box willed it.