#loser piece of shit. compelling though

[lagomort]

green-eyed monster

[minijenn]

Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Prince of Egypt

Papa Bless (literally) its time for me to talk about one of my favorite animated movies, nay, one of my favorite MOVIES ever made. Prince of Egypt is a work of art. Hands down, it is one of the most incredible movies I have ever seen. I'm not even religious (I did grow up Christian and am now a Filthy Heathen but that's beside the point). The real point is that this movie is one that I think can be enjoyed by anyone reguardless of religion. At its core, they took a simple biblical story and turned it into something with raw passion and emotion and art. And I simply adore it.

Every time I watch this movie, its such an experience for me. I always fall in love with new things, from the fantastic character designs, to the insanely lovely animation to the beautiful songs and score to the way the story is told and the emotions the characters go through with it. Everything in this movie feels huge, weighty, and important. It's very respectful to its source material while making changes that make it work better as a film, particularly the brotherly dynamic between Moses and Rameses that adds a whole new layer of drama onto the story.

As for that story, we all know the Exodus story by now so I'll spare you on that and discuss the things the movie does on its own. That dynamic between Moses and Rameses is at the heart of the movie and it really is just a devestating tragedy to watch them break apart and become enemies because of the huge responsibilities thrust onto both of their shoulders. The fact that tragedy ends on such a heartcrushing note too its just... god. (literally god, get it? cause this is all his fault lol jk ok)

Moses is fantastically written, a great main character to follow who has compelling drama, at first about his true identity and how he struggles to comes to terms with it and then grappling with having to oppose Rameses to set the Hebrews free. Rameses himself may just be one of Dreamworks best villains, you really do feel bad for him but you also know he's bringing so much of this suffering on himself because of his own stubborn pride. The rest of the cast is also fantastic, Tzipporah is lovely and really fun, Miriam is an absolute sweetheart, Aaron is a sassy little loser but I love how he comes around in the end, and well, God is God (the burning bush scene tho, can we talk about that? fucking INSANE)

The MUSIC man, each song is SO damn good its hard for me to even pick a favorite. Deliver Us is such a strong opening, a wonderful way to set the stage that makes the stakes feel high right from the start. All I Ever Wanted is a great way to show the life Moses always knew cracking from the inside out. Through Heaven's Eyes is just a bop with a lovely message about change and growth. Playing with the Big Boys is delightfully sinister and the Plagues, oh GOD THE PLAGUES???? INSANE MAN SO DRAMATIC AND INTENSE AND THE IMAGERY IS JUST??!?!?! BRUH! When You Believe might be my favorite though, it starts out somber but grows into this hopeful triumph of excitement and relief and its absolutely beautiful.

This movie is so beautiful to look at too! The composition of some of these shots, the storyboarding, the facial expressions, the set pieces, the movement of the animation, its all so expertly crafted, so entrancing to watch every second of it. Like I said at the start, this movie truly is an utter work of art in every sence of the word.

I've been gushing about this movie for long enough I think, but I can't help it! It's honestly that good! And its so hard to believe that it came hot off the heels of a trash heap like Antz. Like bruh how were they cooking that shit and the godsend that is Prince of Egypt at the same time??? Insane, utterly insane. This studio is ridiculous.

Anyway, Prince of Egypt is the GOAT and I will fight you if you disagree.

Overall Rating: 10/10

Verdict: Tzipporah marry me pls

Previous Review (Antz)

Next Review (Road to El Dorado)

[binart]

Hi Bina I love your art so much! You would always drop really good art/life wisdom during streams so I was wondering if you have any tips for ppl like me who don't feel very confident about their art? Sometimes I'll draw something and be like "ah yes my masterpiece oh la la" but then I'll post it and immediately feel a little bit like I'm not good enough to be doing this in the first place. Just shy art gurl tingz 👉👈 Any tips? Anyway I'm so invested in DTOK, can't wait to see what happens next! 💙❤

<333 THANK U!!! yes i have three excellent tips for this

ok so we're not going to pretend that internet validation isn't like.. THE BEST. because it is. yes sure validation from yourself internally should be the only thing we need to rely upon BUT WHO CAN ACTUALLY DO THAT??? not me if strangers don't tell me they like my gay little pictures SAID GAY LITTLE PICTURES DECREASE IN VALUE TO ME.

if you have any friends who you know will reliably gas you up, SHOW THEM YOUR PICTURES FIRST!!! i am a loser shut in with literally only one friend who i regularly show my stuff to, AND THEIR APPROVAL IS LIKE 8X THE SEROTONIN BOOST OF A STRANGER.

nextly, you must learn that People Love Fanart. you don't gotta make Da Vinci level stuff for people to love your fanart either ok. I AM AN EXAMPLE OF THIS. and if you can make a fair amount of it?? HOO BOY YOU'RE IN. YOU'RE GONNA GET THAT VALIDATION AFTER A WHILE. & tag your stuff so people can find it of course B^) so if u have a Piece of Media that you enjoy enough to make art of, DO THAT SHIT!!!

so that's two things you can do. the other thing, though very boring, is to put in the work to increase your technical skill. if you're able to motivate yourself to do this, confidence will come naturally as your skillset increases and you're able to more easily tackle illustrations that would have been much more difficult like a year ago. THIS IS HARD THO. i suggest finding things to get obsessed with so you feel naturally compelled to mAKE ART OF IT, since usually making a bunch of art helps you get better at.. making art. LOL

ANYWAY GOOD LUCK I HOPE YOU GET MUCH VALIDATION!

[the-music-maniac]

Okay so, this post here https://multsicorn.tumblr.com/post/649671498154557440/i-believe-were-supposed-to-think-that-evil is actually what made me think deeper about this scene, and also what made me get off my butt to write about this, so go check it out! But I wanted to voice why a couple sentences in the english subs for Episode 21 of Word of Honor irked me slightly in the scene with Du Pusa and Liu Qianqiao, this one onwards:

Now keep in mind, my mandarin is serviceable for casual conversations, but I struggle more with formal language, so feel free to correct me if I’ve gotten translations/the feel of the scene wrong. I’m gonna go through the subs that I’m annoyed with and then explain why I think they’re inaccurate and important to the scenes at the end.

But basically, some of the translations for the Youku english subs lightened Du Pusa’s language when she was talking about the dude that betrayed Qianqiao (still don’t remember his name, so I’m gonna call him cheater dude). And the thing is, I really can’t think of a reason why they wouldn’t translate it entirely? Like is there a reason?

For example, this?

The subs say “this lady’s lover” and I can sort of understand why it’s translated like that, she says “她这个“ which is “her” implying ownership (”her lover” as an example). So ”this lady’s” is correct. But that’s not all?? She says in the second half “狗男人“ which translates literally to “dog of a man”. It’s an insult, and without it, the feel of the sentence is completely different.

The english subs also don’t exactly translate this. She didn’t say “she fell for” in this sentence, instead Du Pusa exact words are, “she was tricked into hand”.

Here too, she didn’t call Qianqiao pitiful (I think, there might be cultural nuance I’m missing so let me know if this one is wrong) and the exact translation is “only a pity that she was blind”.

Finally this one, I’m pretty sure “废物“ is harsher of an insult than loser. It literally translates to “useless person” or “a waste of space”. Now I don’t know which officially ranks higher between “loser” vs “废物“ in the level of burn across languages and cultural contexts, but in my mind, 废物 is harsher.

Okay, now with the scenes and translations explained:

So. The reason why I brought all of these instances up is because I think the wording Du Pusa used to explain the story is pretty important, not for plot reasons but just because it changes the feel of the interaction. The post I linked at the very beginning pointed out that Du Pusa is meant to be a character that basically taunts the women she fights with, with her superiority in beauty, etc., but while she does that, at the same time her character doesn’t have that feel of misogyny that I think is so prominent in media when writing women characters who dislike each other.

Granted, Du Pusa also insults Qianqiao, and that didn’t show up in translation either, she calls her “小娘皮“ in place of “lady” which is not exactly a flattering thing to say. But I think the important thing is that throughout the entire telling of the story, Du Pusa recognizes that in this situation, the person that messed up, and is mostly at fault is cheater dude, and she places the blame rightfully on his shoulders despite how she dislikes Qianqiao.

Particularly in the sentences “she was tricked into hand” and “only a pity that she was blind”, instead of “she fell for” and “only pitiful”. “She fell for” puts more responsibility onto Qianqiao’s shoulders, because she’s the one who fell in love with cheater dude and his sweet talk - that’s her business. But “she was tricked into hand” places more of the emphasis on cheater dude, on the fact that he sweet talked her into believing him, that she in fact was tricked, and not because she just simply fell for him.

(Now I’m not here to discuss whether cheater dude’s feelings for Qianqiao are genuine or not, or whether he purposely tricked her - I do think that he does care about her but that’s also not enough to absolve him of the shitty things he did. So I’m not very willing to be lenient with him here)

“Only a pity that she was blind” also places less of the blame on Qianqiao then the phrase “only pitiful” because pitiful as a word implies that Beauty Ghost herself is pitiful. That she’s a pitiful person who’s too dumb to notice that she was being tricked. “Only a pity” however leaves room for her to be a victim of circumstance, and implies that the situation was “only a pity”, not her as a person.

Finally the two harsher insults, I think are important because for once, a character like Du Pusa doesn’t leave the man relatively unscathed in her process of taunting another woman, and also doesn’t hold misogynistic victim-blaming views about situations like this. She’s fully acknowledging here, even as someone who doesn’t give a shit about Qianqiao, that cheater dude is kind of a piece of shit. You see that fully in these three scenes as well:

First the rolling her eyes at cheater dude’s explanations. I think that one is pretty self-explanatory, it gives me strong “oh god don’t make me laugh” and “cut the bullshit and shut up already” vibes, which I high key love.

Second, this one where she pushes him back, feels like she’s sick of hearing cheater dude’s excuses and his attempts to sweet talk Qianqiao again, and so she decided to interject. Also has a little bit of, “okay, get away from her, I’m sick of you” vibes.

Finally, Du Pusa has an incredulous look on her face, and then gives a huff of disbelief when Qianqiao sorta defends cheater dude, saying she’s the one who had bad intentions. This one gives me a sort of “really? You’re defending him?” vibes, especially since it follows her asking if Qianqiao’s brain is broken for actually trusting him a second time after what he did.

Anyways, this turned out to be a long analysis, but I just wanted to translate/talk about my thoughts on some of the subs, and my low key appreciation for this scene. It sort of feels like Du Pusa almost backhandedly defended Beauty Ghost - although I admit that might be going too far/giving too much credit since Du Pusa isn’t exactly going easy on her either, and she might just be listing things as she sees it. Still though, what I’ve always appreciated so much about Word of Honor is that it creates so many female characters that are compelling to watch and well-rounded; who feel realistic, who are their own people and have their own stories to tell, who aren’t killed off as soon as it’s convenient or just to reinforce the heterosexuality of the male leads, who are vital to the plot, and most importantly, act in a way real women might act, and aren’t all internally misogynistic and apologetic towards guys who act shitty.

It’s really refreshing to see a “bad” character in this show, who’s mannerisms suggest she’s a character that’s a woman who taunts women, do so without piling on deep-seated misogynistic accusations or halfway pandering to the man in order to create some misplaced “jealousy”, and instead manage to taunt people/hit people where it hurts and yet still...almost purposely calls the man out on the shitty stuff he did?

Anyways, overall I think this scene was a pretty cool dynamic to think about, and I appreciate it a lot (although I appreciate the subs a bit less, for obvious reasons).

[19tozier]

pushing twenty (richie tozier)

so! today is my 20th birthday, hence the title, so i decided to give you a reverse birthday present. i love you all!! (also bagelmania is a real place and it absolutely is the best place in the entire world)

warnings: swearing, slight mention of sexual things but mainly this is fluffy as shit

[losers + reader are 18]

ever since you were little, you’ve never put much thought into your birthday.

you love going all out for other people. you go into a frenzy, putting together care packages and homemade gifts for anyone that’s close to you, doing your best to make their birthdays as special as you absolutely can. and yet, when it comes to your own, all of that passion flies out of the window.

you’ve never thought of it as a bad thing. you’ve never had a bad birthday, not really. they’re just… lackluster, honestly. you wake up, you open a present or two from your parents, you go to school and smile when people say happy birthday, you come home and eat dinner and go to bed. rinse and repeat. it’s a usual day for you, honestly.

your birthday this year will not be different, you hope. even though you have the losers now, you still aren’t great at accepting people’s attention, and though you’ve never told them your birthday you’re certain that they have to know. stan’s too good at finding out secret information for them to not.

besides, you think your parents might have tipped richie off. they’re all too eager to tell your boyfriend anything they can, from embarrassing childhood stories to the entire details of your life. you think your mom might have told him your birthday was coming up, but you want to believe they’re not going to make it a big deal.

when you get to school, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that’s true. your friends greet you with their normal enthusiasm before going straight back to talking about whatever it is they’re talking about. the only one who really gives you any kind of attention is richie.

“morning, doll,” he murmurs to you, drawing you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

you grin at him, kissing at the hollow of his throat. “morning, rich,” you murmur back, hugging at his middle. “how’re you doing?”

he smiles back, leaning down to press his lips against yours. “better now that you’re here. you look cute.” he thumbs at the waistband of your skirt, a slightly dressier look than you normally go for; you’d felt the urge to dress up, even if you were the only one who knew why. “what’s the occasion?”

you smile to yourself. “just felt like dressing up, that’s all. why, you don’t like it?”

richie rolls his eyes at you. “i just said you look cute, didn’t i? are you deaf now?” you swat at his chest, making him laugh. “fine, you fucking asshole. you look hot. there, is that better?”

you grin, reaching up to thumb at his jaw. “much. what’re they talking about?”

he shrugs, his fingers dancing up and down your spine. “think they’re gonna go see a movie later. not entirely sure. hey, do you wanna get lunch with me after school?”

you blink at the abrupt change of conversation, frowning at him. “uh, sure? i thought you had to retake a test after school, though.”

“nope, change of plans.” he grins. “wanna take my girl out instead.”

instantly, you’re suspicious. it’s not that richie isn’t romantic; if anything, sometimes he’s too romantic. your resident trashmouth is almost surprisingly tender, always going out of his way to take you on dates and constantly tell you that he loves you. these kinds of things aren’t out of the ordinary.

however, there’s a gleam in his eyes that immediately puts you on edge, certain he’s figured you out. you shift, narrowing your eyes at him. “why do you wanna do that?”

he blinks at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “i need an excuse to take my girlfriend out on a date? what the fuck?”

you roll your eyes, hitting at his shoulder with your palm. “no, asshole, of course not, but you’re being weird.”

“how the hell am i being weird?” he pouts, rubbing at his shoulder. “i just asked if you wanted to go to lunch with me!”

the bell rings before you can really answer him. you huff, pointing up at him with one finger. “this isn’t over, tozier.” even with your threat, you stretch up to kiss him, one two three times, before you have to leave him until lunch.

the weirdness doesn’t stop there. all throughout the day, the losers are unfailingly kind to you, even more than they usually are. stan lets you copy his math homework without his usual snark, mike weaves a gorgeous braid into your hair during second period. ben offers you a piece of chocolate during lunch, bev lets you bum a cigarette right after. bill doodles a beautiful sketch of you along the margins of your history notes, eddie gives you his sweatshirt when you shiver during your last period. it makes you irrationally certain that they know what today is.

logically, you know it’s not a big deal. in fact, your friends absolutely should be treating you well on your birthday. but you’re not good at letting yourself have things, always feeling selfish when the attention is too much on you, so you keep your mouth shut and smile at your friends’ sweetness.

the final bell rings. you and eddie rush from the room, finding richie already waiting for the two of you, leaned up against the wall. your heart skips, your smile softening at the sight of him.

“hiya, sweets,” he grins, pushing off the wall to fall into step with you. “oh, and hey, (y/n).”

you roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him when he laughs. eddie flicks his middle finger at richie, scowling when it just makes richie swoon. eddie throws you a helpless look, shrugging along with you when you just shake your head.

“how was your day?” richie murmurs to you, reaching to slip his hand into yours. the other losers meet up with you as you walk to the parking lot, chatting and laughing away.

you hum, squeezing at his hand. “good,” you say simply. you want to say more, but you think it would give you away, so you just ask, “where are we going for lunch?”

richie winks at you, pulling you closer to kiss your temple. “it’s a surprise.”

he doesn’t budge, even when you whine. he just grins, tugging you along to his beat up old truck. the other losers wave you goodbye, making kissy faces at you and laughing. you pout, crossing your arms and leaning back into the passenger seat.

richie rolls his eyes at you, sprawling out in the driver’s seat and starting the car. “holy shit, you’ll find out where we’re going in five minutes, would it kill you to be patient for once?”

“yes it would,” you say primly, a smug smile curling your lips when it makes him laugh.

“finally, maybe i’ll get some peace and quiet,” he teases back at you, his hand sliding into its familiar place on your thigh. his palm is warm and slightly rough, his grip strong. you curl your fingers around his wrist, brushing your thumb along where his pulse flutters.

it’s quiet in the car after that, the only sound being richie’s music playing softly through the speakers. you watch through the window as downtown derry speeds by, letting your mind wander until richie’s pulling off the main road and killing the engine. you shift your gaze to where you’ve stopped and blink, your mouth falling open.

“richie,” you hiss, staring up at the sign for bagelmania. “what the fuck?”

he raises an eyebrow, glancing at the restaurant and then back at you. “what? this is your favorite place.”

you sputter, your fingers tightening around his wrist. your other hand waves in the air, flailing in an attempt to help your point. “yeah, but it’s only for special occasions! what the hell? why are you being weird?”

he rolls his eyes. “is it a crime to want to take my girlfriend to her favorite restaurant? pardon me, i guess i missed that law.”

you narrow your eyes at him. you want to call him out, fully ask why he’s acting like this and why the other losers were too, but that would require you admitting it’s your birthday, so you just huff and climb out of the car.

richie was right; bagelmania certainly is your favorite restaurant. it’s an authentic jewish style deli, and their bagels are good enough to die for. you’re nearly vibrating in your seat by the time your bagel is brought to you, making richie chuckle and throw his arm around your shoulders.

“you’re cute,” he murmurs into your hair, kissing your temple.

you glare at him through your mouthful of bagel, not daring to stop until you’ve consumed all of the doughy goodness. the heaven that is your bagel carries you all the way through lunch and back into richie’s truck, singing through your veins as he pulls up in front of your house and kills the engine.

“are you gonna ask me why i’m being weird if i ask if i can come inside?” he grins, brushing his thumb along the soft skin of your inner thigh.

you bite your lip, feeling your grin tug at the corners of your mouth. “you’re still weird,” you say, reaching out to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, “but i could be persuaded to let you inside.”

his eyes go hot. he’s dangerously handsome like this, his curls messy and a smirk on his lips. “you could be persuaded, huh?” he murmurs, leaning closer until his breath fans hot over your mouth. “i like those odds.”

he kisses you before you can respond, the hand on your thigh digging in and his other going to cup your jaw. it’s dirty from the very beginning, the slick slide of his tongue making your brain go fuzzy and your stomach go hot.

“you make a compelling argument,” you gasp, pulling away to rest your forehead against his. “inside, now.”

you don’t wait for what he says. you just hop out of the truck, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and all but running up the driveway, fumbling with your keys to get the door open and in—

“surprise!”

you scream and jerk back, your heart in your throat. you’re terrified until your brain catches up, finding your losers scattered around your living room, all beaming at you. there are presents on your coffee table and bowls of snacks on every other available service, streamers and balloons hanging from the ceiling and the staircase.

you’re dumbfounded, staring at each loser in turn. your mouth moves but no sound comes out, completely and utterly shocked, until finally you manage to say, “what is this?”

stan smiles, pulling a party hat from behind his back and snapping it onto your head. “a surprise party, what else?”

you slowly shake your head, feeling richie finally catch up with you and sling an arm around your waist. you turn to him, your mouth still slack with surprise. “did you know about this?”

richie’s cheeks go pink. “duh. i’m a great distraction, huh?”

you blink, turning your gaze to the room at large and then back to richie. “how did you even know it was my birthday?”

he shrugs, pulling you farther into the room and pushing on your shoulders until you sink onto one of your couches. “your parents told me a couple of weeks ago.”

“and me,” eddie says, grinning.

“us too!” bev chirps, flashing you a wink. the other losers nod.

you’re still shocked, but it’s sinking it a little bit more now. you expect to feel embarrassed, and while a part of you certainly is, the much larger part of you is full of warmth and love for your friends. you take a deep breath, trying to force your tears back.

“thank you guys,” you say quietly, your voice watery. “you didn’t have to do this.”

mike winds an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side for a hug. “we wanted to,” he tells you gently. “you’re always so good for our birthdays, we wanted you to have a good day too.”

you nod, smiling at him. “i did have a good day. i had a great day, thanks to all of you.”

“we love you,” ben says sweetly, kissing your cheek. “happy birthday, (y/n).”

“happy birthday!” they all chorus.

you’re almost overwhelmed by it, but you lean into it instead of letting it scare you. you eat snacks, you open presents, you laugh with your friends. you can’t remember the last birthday you had that felt as good as this one, sweet and beautiful and simple.

richie smiles into your temple sometime later. his arm is curled around your shoulder, your body shifted into his. it’s a rare moment of quiet while bill and stan grab more snacks and bring your cake out. “having fun?” he murmurs to you.

you nod, turning your head into his shoulder. he chuckles, pressing his lips into your hairline. “good,” he mumbles into your skin. “that’s the point, baby.” one of his hands slides up your thigh, his mouth curling into a smirk when it makes you jump. “later, when these bozos leave, i’m going to give you your real present.”

he pulls back when bill and stan come back into the room. you hide your burning cheeks by letting them sing a truly horrible rendition of happy birthday, laughing with your chest feeling light and warm.

yeah, you think, blowing out your candles and closing your eyes. definitely the best birthday ever.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

in the afterlife part two

Summary: can you do a part 2 to the “in the after life” where the reader wakes up after the neibolt’s destroyed and realizes that either she’s back where she died and gets a second chance at life, or that she wakes up outside the house and spend the rest of her life with the losers club?

God himself must be having a field day laughing at you and all the life decision you made to get to this point. The air surrounding you is so dark and impenetrable it’s almost tangible, eluding you to think you might be in heaven or hell. Then your leg kicks out and rams a broken piece of glass in the flesh, twinging an electrifying pain stab conjugated in the back of your mind, and you think assimilate, oh, it’s been a while since I felt that. You’re obviously not an expert in heaven or hell matters, but you do have enough presence of a mind to understand that pain is not something that supposed to be felt in the afterlife. Not dead in that case.

A dust particle flows in your throat, irritating it so hard you undergo a massive coughing spree to get rid of it. In turn, you bring your hand up to cover up your mouth and knock free a rooftop plate, the tiniest sliver of light worming through the opening.  You stare at the back of your hand integrating the way it looks clearer somehow, more then it did while inside Neibolt, and then mind reelingly come to the conclusion that you just pushed something away. You touched something, and discerned the material of said thing under you hands, and not ghosted through.

Your throat bobs, putting a lid on your enthusiasm because you don’t want to get let down when the inevitable punchline tales. With a firm shove, something else topples over and the sunlight from outside illuminates your face. It’s warm and the sun burns a streak on your face, but the outside air is so fresh and crisp you can’t even focus on that, to busy holding back tears. Sitting up proves to be an effort, but you manage, albeit with a small huff, and then you’re seated on the runes of the old house that held you captive for twenty seven years.

The details surrounding this are a little hazy, worn down by the incredible and emotionally draining changes taking place, but you can see the boy, Bill, and his friends of misfits clear as day, better friend than you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

A car zoofs by, and the drives, on older male, leans in their seat to stare at you for as long as they can, judging you, but never slowing down or stopping to offer up any kind of help. The man disposed of a can of soda out his window, ricocheting against the pathway and luring your attention there.

It looks appealing, but a snide of apprehensiveness holds you back. You’ve tried to leave the house multiple times, but each time had ended with a hand grissing your leg and prise you back inside like you weight nothing, Pennywise savoring the wails of despair.

But you’d never been able to flick anything before either, and with Pennywise dead, who knew the possibilities that laid ahead of you?

Hesitantly, the tips of your toes cross the curb, your breath lodging in your throat as anxiousness compels you to step back equally as hurried. No hand grasps you back into the house, not that there is one to go back to, and no pain shocks prickle every nerve in your body, so you try again, propping your whole foot across this time. A halted breath releases at the painless sensations swooping your body, and gathering all courage, your swing your body to the other side.

You let out a punched out laugh, giddy that you’re no longer bound, hysterically laughing because if you don’t you’ll start crying. ‘I’m free.’

When the adrenaline and the utter amazements wears off, you’re left standing in front of a collapsed, the house no longer of any value to you but a place you’ll avoid for the rest of your days. You have no idea what to do next, it’s been twenty-seven years, you can’t out of bleu show up at your parents doorstep, if they even still live there, how would you explain where you’ve been for so long? And the lack of passing time?

No matter the answer to that question, you decide to set track to your old home regardless, the sight of the silhouette will be enough.

You’re walking with a noticeable limp, tracking the leg the glass stabbed you with behind like a cripple, and your clothes are covered in rubbish and are outdated, yet no one in Derry regards you twice, just turn up their nose when you pass them on the streets.

‘Fuck this town, and fuck these miserable people.’

The cursing of the town works you up so bad you’re lost in engulfing yourself in the new things renovating Derry, an arcade coating the old skaters rink you abolished every day, and mister Keens pharmacy updated with a new layer of white paint. Your own home, close to the pharmacy, is one of the many buildings renewed, so completely unrecognizable you doubt for a second if this truly is the house you grew up in.

‘Hey? A-a-aren’t you the girl f-f-from Its layer?’ Bill’s sauntering on the street, trailing his bike with him but not riding it, staring at you from afar. He’s cleaned up, washed away the grime from the sewer water and the red around his eyes has faded away, but it’s definitely the leader of the losers club. Bill speaks softly, as to not attract any more attention than necessary, which is stupid, since no one in Derry cares for anything but themselves.

‘I- yeah I am, my names Y/N, by the way,’ you walk on over to him, nodding your head and coming ot a stop a few feet from him.

‘H-h-how did you get here?’

‘I don’t know, I guess when’, a person passes and you fall silent, starting back up when she’s gone. ‘When Pennywise died I got set free.’

‘You’re h-h-hurt’, Bill observes, glancing at the injure you obtained. Strangely, you’re not bothered by it at all, you like the sting of it, proving that you can actually feel things again now.  

‘If you w-w-want, you can come with me to our c-c-clubhouse? My friends are on their way and they’ll h-h-help us.’

Your house being demolished carves room for a nagging feeling, a feeling that tells you don’t belong anywhere anymore, and you have many places to be now anyway, so you agree. Hopping on the carrier of Bills bike, you swoop your legs up and enjoy the inkling of movement ripped away from all those years for a stupid mistake you made.

---------

The clubhouse is bigger than you imagined, and is filled with life. The others haven’t arrived yet, but based on the poster and gadgets scattered all over the place, it’s obvious they have a lot of personality to share.

You meddle with everything, savoring the textures of different objects and in turn accidently knocking some things over. You smile sheepishly at Bill as an apology, but he doesn’t respond and simply watches you as you go on. At one point, a splinter sticks in your thumb, and like a toddler you show it to him.

The latch unlocks and the other losers all stream in to take their place in the cottage, halting as they spot you.

‘Holy shit,’ Richie, Bill told you all their names before they arrived, says fidgeting with his glasses.  

‘I f-f-found her on t-t-the streets w-w-wondering around, she n-n-needs our h-h-help.’ What their leader proclaims is what happens, and they all scramble to help you as fast as possible.

Eddie disinfects your wounds, Ben, Mike and Stan go digging for books on the subject matter, Bill and Richie distracts you from the ache, and Beverly retrieves clothes that allow you to blend in perfectly.

They’re all very sweet and considerate, attending to you and being friendly while they’re at it, kinder than your best friends at the time had been towards you.

‘You got a second chance in life, it’s a miracle’, Mike concludes after the last book on his stack in cleared.

‘That’s really cool actually. What do you plan on doing with your new found freedom?’

And endless sea of possibilities with waves drowning you and fluctuating you up awaits in the unknow stage of life, but it’s intimidating to start that life with no one behind your back to support you.

‘I don’t know yet. I had a plan before I died but I’m not sure I’m going to pursue that now. In all honesty I have no idea what to do.’

‘Here’s a glorious idea from the smartest kid in the room, your height is the same as ours, you could totally fucking pass as a twelve year old.’

Eddie snorts, the fizz bubbling out his nose, all the while shrieking.

‘Hey, come to think of it, maybe you and Eds should pretend to be siblings, you’re both small for your ages.’

Eddie’s laughter dies out in hurdles, and when he’s done he raises and eyebrow to dare Richie to say anything else. ‘That’s not fucking funny.’

‘You were laughing before though’, Richie proudly answers, his smile positively beaming.

‘I can’t be a twelve year old. I flat out refuse to go through high school again, no thank you’, you shiver, the memories of highs school horrific.’

‘J-j-just stay h-h-here until you f-f-figure it o-o-out then.’

‘Finally, a true genius talking.’ Richie flips Stan off at his words, sticking out his tongue for good measure.

‘Really? You would let me do that?’

‘Well, us losers got to stick together.’

[norcani]

I watched a bunch of losers best games of 2020 videos and decided I can do that too

except I don’t play recent releases so only a few of these are 2020 releases and out of those all of them are vns.....I did play these in 2020 though..I think... 

10. Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni Miotsukushi-hen

I also read  Yoigoshi and Tokihogushi but they fucking sucked! The rest of the console arcs I had played beforehand. What to say about this? It’s been a real mixed bag and by this I mean its been a pile of shit but in the middle of a shit there is this puzzle piece that you needed for a puzzle you completed the rest of 10 years ago and you grab the shit covered piece and go “holy shit! look at this! I’ve been looking for this all along!” but of course it’s still covered in shit and you’re not even sure it’s quite the right piece, it’s not made by the original puzzle maker but with some cleaning wiggling it fits into the puzzle perfectly and you can finally rest assured that the stupid puzzle you thought would never work out is completed. (And then the puzzle maker is like, hey here are a bunch of new pieces and drops gou on you but irrelevant) . Anyway this got translated this year so I say it counts as a 2020 game. 

9. Witcher 3

wow i played this game this year apparently! Or at least, steam tells me so. Honestly I never had any intention of playing this game because people are annoying about it but I somehow ended up playing it anyway....and it was...fine? I liked it, especially the blood and wine dlc. I like geralt as a protag a lot. And I somehow spend 100 hours on this thing. So you know, I liked it. People are still annoying about it though. The best part of finishing it is that I can now call it overrated with the confidence of someone who played and even enjoyed it! 

8. oneshot I got this one from the bundle of racial justice though it was on my radar for quite a while. In this one, you are god, and there is a cute cat child that talks to you directly, which rules. 

fuck yeah!!!!!  (there is also a huge light bulb in this, for the moths in the audience)

7. the ghost of you

This is a text based vn with minimal visuals. A uh.. lesbian horror survival romance story? Is that too many genres. I was utterly obsessed with this for a short while. The gore and body horror stuff in this were top notch but towards the end it got a bit too over the top campy and silly for me, though still enjoyable I mainly wasn’t expecting it to go that route. I also thought ironically the romance was by far the weakest part. The villains were super fun though I still think about them...

6. iwaihime 

i really thought i would end up disliking it until about halfway through but afterwards it was really good except when it was kinda fucked up to the point of I made a cw list for the vn. This is like a shameless mishmash of half of ryukishis previous works and the worst part is it *works* and i love it. I ended up being suprisingly attached to the cast even though they seemed super generic at first glance. Also at some point someone puts the actual yugioh shisha sosei(monster reborn) card in someones coffin so yeah you know..... this one was actually released in 2020 too so goty 

5. Cyberpunk2077 Dry Drowning

another one from the bundle. This is a cyberpunk noir detective mystery / sorta political drama? One of the rare games I replayed immediately after finishing, Great setting, solid plot and cases, great art, kinda generic characters but they grew on me. My fave was a cool trans lesbian character but the circumstances surrounding her were a bit *vague hand gestures* . Definitely a shame not more people know about this one! 

4. Vampire the Masquerade: Shadows of New York

first of all incredible art and music! 2nd of all.... its just a really well written vtm story with a goth girl in a toxic lesbian relationship of course I love it. This vn also justifies coteries of new yorks existence which is a great accomplishment since that vn itself just felt like a introductory course to vtm. Also another 2020 release! No one can criticize my list now. 

3. Fire Emblem 3 houses

I’m still playing this one but I put 60 hours in already so I think I can include this here. This is the main thing I’m playing the past few weeks and  as with all my favorite games I could complain about it for ages , However its really fun and compelling in a way I can’t quite articulate and also Rhea and Sothis I love you both

2. Assassins Creed Vallhalla Expeditions: Viking

this fucking ruled!!! Solid 40 hours or so of solid story and characters that ends exactly when it should. really unique protag a lot of different ways to “win” would. Also one of the few rpgs where the evil choices make just as much sense as the good ones. Would have replayed immediately if my switch hadnt arrived just when i finished my first run. I wish the cast had more lines but at the end of the day Roskva is adorable as is.  10/10 would tell my enemies to not fucking talk to me again.  1. Demon’s Souls Dark Souls 2 

(I coudln’t find any decent screenshots I took for this so enjoy this meme. Trust me my character was really cute. )

 I’ve been playing this for 2 fucking years and i was somehow still sad that it was over....I played for around 140 hours and approximately died every 6 minutes. If you do the math you might notice I’m not very good at this game. I also don’t know what the fuck the story is even about. But hitting things is fun, and I beat fume knight twice which was great. Too bad I will never play the other games since steam never puts them on FUCKING sale. 

[dianakennery]

Scott and Sparkles Part 6

Scott woke up in his own bed, in his own apartment. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. His head still felt fuzzy, he remembered yelling at Sparkles and felt remorse but he also remembered feeling a little bit lighter after sharing his grief with someone.

The realization of where he was hit him then. He bolted up and looked around, running to the window. The outside world was there, a little grey and a little slow but there were people walking about and a real sky. He smiled to himself, running his hands through his hair. Scott knew he had to find Sparkles. Discuss the events of the party. Hell, any understanding of what happened from anybody would be helpful. He thought about it for a moment, did all of that really happen? Was it really just a bad drug trip? 

The sound of his front door being unlocked broke his reverie. He quickly tried to surmise who could possibly have his keys. The only other person who had a copy had been his brother and that had been demanded of him. However, Scott reasoned, he probably made a bit of a fool of himself last night so he hoped a kind friend was just returning his belongings.

Scott crossed his bedroom and headed out to his entryway only to see a vision of himself hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes. 

Scott stared, open-mouthed, at his own form that was clearly unaware of his presence.

“Well, fuck.” He said it much louder than he had intended but this only further solidified that the other him couldn’t hear or see him.

After about twenty minutes of confusion and various attempts to make sense of what was going on Scott was able to draw a few conclusions. To begin with the floor seemed to be the only corporeal thing he could actually touch. Even the bed that he had been laying on earlier couldn’t physically hold him. Instead he would pass through objects, like he or they were made of air. Like he was a ghost. This thought unsettled him, bringing back to mind Sparkles’ suggestion that they were in some sort of purgatory.

What began to wear away at Scott’s sanity first was the fact that he was having trouble placing what he was watching. He knew they were scenes from his life, played out like some sort of virtual reality nightmare, he remembered living it but everything was so darn similar he had difficulty placing it. Eventually a hockey game placed the timing for him. He was relieved to discover it was a recent game as he had been ninety percent sure that it had been after his brother’s death. The ten percent of uncertainty disturbed him. 

 Eventually he began to get angry at himself. He was grateful Sparkles wasn’t here, he imagined he knew what she would think. She would say he was boring. Scott would argue he liked being boring. Maybe so, she would say, but this complacent fella is the one who took the pill. Scott pondered this, maybe she wouldn’t say that but he was thinking it. That is what disturbed him so much. When he thought back on this time it hadn’t felt like this. Hadn’t felt how it appeared, even to himself. He remembered feeling so sad. Sadder than he could possibly imagine. He remembered it welling up inside of him, pulling at every limb and choking his throat. The vision of himself was calm, would quietly chuckle at the tv, hum to himself while cooking with the radio on. Scott suddenly wondered who the act was for. He knew that he hadn’t wanted to become overwhelmed with grief, knew that he couldn’t dwell on it. So instead, he now realized, he had ignored it.

Scott sighed to himself as he watched the other him prepare to clean the apartment. He watched the other Scott shuffle around and organize everything but couldn’t help but notice how he avoided going near the bookshelf. It was something Scott had noticed earlier but wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. There was a photo of himself and his brother on the bookshelf. Scott walked over, glancing back at himself as he was sweeping the kitchen. Scott studied the photo. They were both smiling, his brother grinning brightly and broadly at the camera and Scott with a grin slightly smaller and a look of slight annoyance at the back of his brother’s head. They were in water, a river, though moments before they had been standing on the dock. Scott’s brother had jovially thrown his arm around him, sharing an inside joke before tossing him in the water and jumping in soon after. His brother had gifted him the framed photo, laughing, “I love it because you look so mad.”

Scott shook the memory away. He glanced back at the sweeping Scott once more. He returned his attention to the picture, wishing desperately for time travel. Something inside of him stirred and compelled him to reach out. He followed his intuition and outstretched his hand, shock igniting throughout him when he felt it. Very quickly he grabbed the photo, bringing it closer. After a few seconds however, the frame slipped through his fingers once more. It dropped to the ground, Scott was relieved to see that it didn’t break on impact. He looked up at his doppelganger with the broom who had frozen still at the clatter. Very slowly, the other Scott placed the broom aside and walked over to the picture. Scott watched as his other self approached and carefully knelt down to pick up the frame. As the other Scott straightened he kept his eyes on the photo. Minutes seemed to pass before the vision Scott’s quiet voice whispered, “Come back.” 

Scott turned away, hoping to put some distance between himself and himself. This resolve deepened when he heard his own strangled voice plead once more to photograph before breaking into tears. 

After gaining enough distance between himself and the bookshelf Scott let out a small sigh of relief and looked on in pity as the young man in front of him wept onto the frame. Scott turned away once more, his own grief stirring, and his eye caught his front door. No longer did it appear as his door but it appeared as if it belonged to another apartment entirely. There was something familiar about it to Scott but he couldn’t quite place it. He approached the strange door quickly, glancing back at himself one final time. He gave himself a nod and went through the door.

It was Sparkles apartment. 

Scott took in the scene in front of him, the place was tidier than it had been when he had seen it but not by much. The apartment’s tenant was sprawled across the couch sniffling softly. The Sparkles that he knew stood across from her, watching herself as he had done. She turned when he entered and her expression softened considerably, she nodded at him quickly before her eyes hardened and she went back to glaring at herself.

Scott had never seen her like this. The vehemence in her eyes made his stomach churn. The pure disgust and hatred. If he had seen her expression and had to guess the cause he could never have imagined it would be herself. Yet that’s who the revulsion was for. Scott could barely believe that this was the Sparkles he had been with all night.

“I really wish this wasn’t the part you showed up for… although, not too many highlights, have to confess.” Even her voice sounded completely different. 

Scott couldn’t think of anything to say, he was completely thrown by her changed countenance. 

The other Sparkles was bleary-eyed and weeping, sweatpants askew. She rose from the couch, a sob escaping her as she made her way across the room.

Sparkles followed the vision, circling like a vulture with a glare to match. 

“What happened?” Scott’s own voice sounded small.

Sparkles turned to him, her eyes completely lost. She shrugged, a desperate, sad, confusion in her voice, “Nothing.” The anger returned when she focused back onto herself. “This is just me.”

Vision Sparkles was standing in front of the mirror, wiping at the black makeup up around her eyes. She stopped and looked at herself in the mirror for a moment before sobbing once again. Suddenly she wound up and slammed her fist into the mirror.

The mirror cracked and shattered. Shards clattered to the floor. Dream Sparkles let out a cry of anguish before shoving her bookshelf onto the ground.

Real Sparkles started clapping.

“Oh! Wow! Great job!” Her sarcasm quickly died, “Don’t have money for that,” she gestured aggressively at the mirror, “Or that!” she pointed to the bookshelf that had splintered and split. Dream Sparkles heart wrenching cries increased in volume. Real Sparkles matched her, her own voice growing louder and angrier, “What good does that do? Huh? What are you doing you fucking moron?”

“Sparkles,” Scott took a step forward, wanting to calm her.

Sparkles whipped around at him, “No, you don’t even know the half of it. I’ve watched this piece of shit go around and around this place and she never does anything worthwhile!” She resumed yelling at the back of her own head, “You hear me? You have never accomplished anything in your entire life and yet somehow you feel entitled to fucking shit up?! What gives you the right? Why are you so Goddamn special? How come you can go around doing whatever the fuck you want?” she screeched at herself, “What have you ever done? You are not anything special you giant, idiotic, loser!” 

The dream Sparkles wailed again as the real one continued her barrage of insults. Her voice lashing out with such vitriol that Scott couldn’t bear to look, “You are pathetic! A child, a moron. Why can’t you ever accomplish anything you worthless idiot?!”

The dream Sparkles spun around, her anguished eyes finding her own reflection somehow.

“I’m sorry!” she screamed at herself.

And then everything went black.

[nympsycho-ao3]

Counterplay

Want to read on AO3? Click here!

After transferring schools due to your propensity for fighting, you witness something more exciting than the teacher's scrawling on the chalkboard: a certain delinquent taking advantage of his Stand's abilities to get the upper hand in a fight. Determined to see his star-dusted companion again, you try to convince him the only way you know how: by pissing him off enough to bring him forth.

After a full day of teasing and public humiliation by your hand, Jotaro takes matters into both pairs of hands that he has in his arsenal and teaches you a lesson. You don't back down so easily, pushing all of his buttons as he slowly grows to enjoy the look of defiant surrender on your face.

[In which you tease Jotaro so thoroughly that he and Star Platinum have no choice but to double team you and put you in your place, no matter how hard you try to keep yourself atop your pedestal.]

A commission/request piece from JotaroKujhoe on AO3.

You resent that your parents insisted you transfer schools, especially as you only just recently began to feel comfortable with your social standing at your previous one. It’s almost unfair that just one fight landed you in this situation; well, one fight too many. You’re present for the end of your first month of classes only because of pressure from your parents, not that it means much to you anyway. You’re more motivated by the threat of a curfew than academic standing as you begrudgingly saunter towards the school, squinting into the sun with a scowl.

You hear commotion coming from everywhere and nowhere as you approach an alley towards the back of the school, a solace you thought only you knew about. It had become routine for you to smoke a cigarette before classes start, at least on the days you bothered to come to school on time. Today, though, it appears someone has already beat you to the punch.

It’s not the only punch that’s been thrown. You stop short as you catch sight of a hulking man tower over some poor soul, his back turned to you as he clutches the front of the smaller man’s shirt in his fists. You usher behind the protection of the brick wall with shuffled feet, almost tripping over yourself as you peer from the corner. Your curiosity has gotten you into trouble before, and you hope today will be the exception. You already know you’re in hot shit considering the reputation of the student you recognize and can only imagine what he would do if he caught you snooping in his business.

The smaller man jolts his leg to collide against the other’s shin, the expression on his face indicating that he’s sure it would be a final blow. Your eyes catch on a glint of purple at the collision, just for a moment as it dissolves as quickly as it appeared.

Huh?

The man’s expression turns sour at the stubborn, confident position of his leg as it remains unmoved. He doesn’t have time to protest before he’s shoved onto the pavement roughly, the neck of his shirt stretched wide and loose. His confidence is evidently shaken, his hands raising in a plea for mercy. He says something, but the other’s booming voice overpowers it just as easily as his bravado.

“Try it.”

You’re beginning to understand why fangirls harass the guy so ardently, though you’re usually not too keen on men that don’t like to be thrown around. Your mind is almost taken away from the strange purple flash by the sultry, commanding tone. However, as the downtrodden man musters some gusto and staggers to meet his opponent’s glower with a swift punch, your eyes widen and you purse your lips to keep quiet.

What on Earth?

You’re met with the sight of an arcane being that tempts your sense of reality from your comfortable understanding of the world. Your breath catches at the wideness of its back and the sheer size of its presence, your eyes scanning its form from the undulating of its hair to the way it dissipates to nothing at the knees. It’s terrifying, especially as its hand lines up with Jotaro’s to catch the man’s fist. He cries out as his arm is twisted into a painful-looking angle that makes you wince. The pads of your fingers singe with the rough texture of the brick beneath them as you recoil. Even in your disgust, you follow the way it seems to float in the air while having more weight than any being you’ve ever seen, somehow more real than anything else. You consider that you’re simply going insane, only for the figment to fade from reality in an instant as the victim crumbles to the ground. The winner kicks pebbles into the loser’s face as he braces his arm and grits his teeth. He apparently has a death wish, spitting a loogie onto the shoe in front of his face. You can feel the indignance that emanates from the tension in his shoulders, itching to beat the sad heap below him to a bloody pulp. He apparently settles on cleaning his shoe with the convenience of the loser’s face, swiping the spit across his cheek as he digs his hands in his pockets.

He retrieves a pack of cigarettes and lights one nonchalantly, knowing that even though the loser spits vulgarities and threats that this was handled and over with. You’re still reeling from the image of the immense purple figure that barely appeared long enough to convince you it was real. It was foreboding, its very presence raising the hair on the back of your neck. You push away the tugging at your gut, your lungs filling with blessed cool air as you finally gather your thoughts.

You realize that more than anything, it was breathtakingly beautiful.

The clarity is overshadowed by panic as Jotaro starts to turn away from the pathetic sight beneath him, a puff of smoke marking his leave. You scuffle behind the solace of brick, resigning yourself away from detection. As you force yourself to keep your pace casual, you pop a cigarette of your own in your mouth to give you an alibi if you’re confronted.

There’s nothing, though, as he strides away in silence, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat and face buried in the lapels of his jacket. You catch a brief glimpse of his features despite his shrouding, the look in his eyes fearsome as he stares daggers ahead of him. Even someone as fiery as you would stutter under that gaze.

You light your cigarette as you watch him go, leaning against the wall hoping for some sort of stability in more ways than one. The headrush of nicotine soothes your pricked nerves, but you’re still left with the compelling desire to know more. He can’t just tempt you with that… creature and not expect you to get some answers. You don’t know how to approach him; You don’t remember his name even though you have homeroom with him, and there’s no way you could just ask. You’re sure of one thing, though:

It appears when he’s pissed off.

It’s a challenge you’re definitely up for, needing some excitement to get you through the monotony you’re sure would be ahead of you otherwise.

~

You don’t have a plan, hoping you’ll figure it out as you go along. You know he sits in the same desk every day, the farthest one from the front of the class and tucked in the corner. No one would dare try to take the desk for themselves, considering they don’t want a concussion any time soon. You’ve never paid him any mind; he’s actually rather quiet considering his demeanor and keeps to himself. Not that anyone ever tried to engage him. You thought he was all bark and no bite before this morning.

You get to class late to make sure he’s in his desk before you arrive. Your reasoning is valid, considering that Jotaro is slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, with his hat pulled over his eyes. Is he asleep? Well, he wouldn’t be for long.

It doesn’t take much for you to collect the guts to fuck with someone, instigation your strong suit as you prefer to start and end conflict yourself. Knowing what he’s capable of, though, almost gives you pause as you muster a confident stride towards his desk. After he sets a short stack of papers on his desk, your first bright idea brings a smile to the corner of your lips.

All it takes is a roll of your hips up and over the corner of his desk to send the papers fluttering onto the floor. You’re not shy, eyeing him with heavy lids as you let your thigh rest against the surface of his desk a bit too long. He doesn’t meet your kindness, however. You can only assume he’s looking down at the papers, his expression hidden by the brim of his hat. Other students mutter among themselves as they turn to witness the scene, obviously concerned for your life as they realize what was going on. You don’t leave them with much more to deliberate as you nonchalantly continue to your desk, not giving him another glance until the teacher starts class just a moment later. You keep it subtle, watching him from the corner of your eye. His papers are back on his desk, though his position is no different. You can’t help but smirk at his irritated scowl.

As the teacher takes attendance, you pay attention to what she’s saying for perhaps the first time all month.

“Kujo.”

He lazily raises a finger in the air for just a moment before returning it to the crease of his arm.

Kujo, huh? Interesting.

“Try to respond using your words next time, Jotaro,” the teacher continues. Jotaro obviously isn’t in the mood for more bullshit, his intense glare shutting the teacher up before she dug herself into a hole she couldn’t get out of. You’re amused at the way he gets what he wants by commanding with his body instead of his words.

Jotaro, what a name. It suits him, almost as general-like as Watanabe himself. You wonder if you’ve gotten under his skin, his expression giving you no true indication either way as his stoicism returns. You’ll have to find out later, despite your persistent curiosity and need for validation. For now, you ponder your next move and settle on one that charms you enough to daydream about the outcome.

After class, you bolt from your desk as casually as you can. You’re trying not to be too forward, though you suppose it doesn’t matter considering the circumstances. As long as you end up in front of him as students file out of the classroom, you don’t care how you get there. Luckily, you manage to shove some of Jotaro’s ever-present groupies out of the way to insist your position in front of him. You head towards like door like any other day, making sure that Jotaro is doing the same before stopping dead in your tracks. He’s forced to either collide his chest into your back or dig the soles of his shoes into the floor to stop. He manages a bit of both, keeping himself composed as his chest briefly knocks against you. The contact brings a smile to your face despite the shocked gasps and glances your way. He balances himself back to his full stature with a supportive backstep, the girls calling out to you with some nonsense you don’t care enough to listen to. In fact, their shrill chattering only spurs you on; you were already on your way to pissing off Jotaro, might as well knock a few other pins down while you’re at it.

You dig through your pencil case slyly before selecting one by touch. You have to keep your expression neutral despite the excitement of your intentions, a feat accomplished from many years of mastering your poker face. You suppress the urge to sock these annoying bitches in their faces as you drop the pencil nonchalantly, the tinkling noise of plastic meeting linoleum quieting them down for a moment.

They’re finally speechless as you bend at the waist to retrieve it, taking your time to let your skirt ride up your thighs. You bend one knee just enough to round your hip, your hair falling to frame your face as you stretch the muscles of your thighs. Whatever pleasure you’re getting from this is quickly becoming addictive, especially as Jotaro remains as silent as ever. God, how good it would feel to get something out of him aside from defiant silence.

You didn’t think you’d have the gusto to do it, but you jut your hip just enough to expose the pattern of your panties to anyone who was looking for it. You’re not sure if Jotaro is among them, but the girls definitely are. One of them moves between you and the stillness of Jotaro’s form in an effort to either preserve your decency or their perception of Jotaro’s viridity. You rise slowly, unable to conceal your self-satisfied smirk as you return the pencil to its case.

You don’t acknowledge any of them as you prance towards the door, leaving Jotaro in the shadow of your actions, hands stuffed in his pockets and upper lip curled just enough to alter his features.

~

Two class periods pass before you see Jotaro again, giving you plenty of time to choreograph your next move. You’d expected that you would have to find him after school, but luckily enough you catch the glint of the gold chain that dangles from his jacket as he rummages through his locker. You roll your lips between your teeth as you weave through the barriers of peoples’ very existences, approaching Jotaro from the side, his face obstructed by the locker door. You wait for him to straighten before busting the locker door shut with your elbow, the metal clanging with a crash that captures the attention of bystanders. Everything is still for a moment, Jotaro seemingly unaffected by the noise that startled others around them. You see the muscles of Jotaro’s jaw tense for just a brief, delicious moment before he turns to address you. You don’t like being looked down upon, but the mixture of frustration and indignance justifies the necessity of it. Meeting his gaze is easy enough, something Jotaro isn’t used to. He takes the lead by virtue of his height, though, and both of you know it. Something about that pisses you off, warranting a move to assert your rightful place. You schmooze your shoulder into the wall of lockers as you cross your arms across your chest, the decrease in height made up for by the peek of cleavage through the space between your carefully unbuttoned uniform. You swear you see the bobbing of his Adam’s apple with a quick swallow, but you can’t confirm your suspicion. If he sees what you hope he sees, especially from his vantage point, he would have to be looking indirectly. He doesn’t offer so much as a quick glance, boring holes into your smug-looking eyes instead. Your expression is completely calculated; it’s a request, an invocation, for him to do something about what apparently bothers him more than he lets on.

“The fuck do you want?”

You didn’t expect him to speak, the darkness in his tone catching you off guard. It’s a short-lived surprise, though, as you ponder the question quite honestly. What exactly did you want? You’re not sure if you have a goal of seeing the spectre again or if you simply enjoy this cat-and-mouse game you’ve roused perhaps a bit too much. You smile as he glares, awaiting your response.

You scoff as you tauntingly raise your index finger to the lapel of his jacket, sliding it between a link of the gold chain that dangles from it. His hands clench into fists as you flick the chain upwards, hooking it on the edge of the lapel and knocking it against his collarbone. Not a second after the chain settles, Jotaro snatches your wrist with a grip you can only interpret as a threat.

His reaction is almost as thrilling as it is terrifying, the bones of your wrist starting to ache under Jotaro’s knuckles. You can’t hide your satisfied grin as you meet his glooming stare, only pissing him off further. He breaks eye contact to scan his surroundings, noticing the small crowd beginning to form around you. He gives your wrist a squeeze before casting it away, his lip curling at the situation he finds himself in. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was showing you mercy. He’s probably more concerned about his reputation; though he hasn’t given other people’s opinions a single thought in the past, he doesn’t want to be known as a woman-beater. The idea excites you. You exaggerate the impact of his fingers on your wrist, feigning a grimace and a harsh hiss through your teeth. The murmurings among the crowd as to Jotaro’s character almost make you smile, though you find it within yourself to inhibit your amusement.

A flash of red hair comes between you and Jotaro. You step back as someone who must be his friend grabs his arms and tries to soothe him, rushed platitudes breaking Jotaro’s fierce gaze at you.

An unexpected opportunity, but one you appreciate nonetheless.

You sneakily dig around the outer pocket of your purse, dangling at your side, while the crowd is distracted by Jotaro’s friend. From the shroud of the pocket, you slide out a pair of blue-wrapped objects that jut between your fingers.

Jotaro’s eyes catch on the flash of color immediately as you tumble them onto the floor. You smugly await his response as he appears to begin ignoring his friend, the realization of what the objects are taking over his face with a scowl. The crowd realizes, too, and their murmuring starts to boil into a roar.

His eyes return to yours and you swear you see a hint of a blush flush his cheeks. You smirk at his indignance, arms crossing to round your cleavage fuller for him. His friend keeps sputtering nonsense even as Jotaro shifts his attention fully to you, eyes flashing between the condoms on the floor and your self-satisfied glare.

“Wouldn’t want to embarrass your friend, Jotaro…” you sneer, lids heavy over your confident eyes.

Jotaro glowers at your use of his name, feeling like a child that’s being disciplined for something he didn’t do. He looks back towards his friend for reassurance, but it’s too late. He begins to crane his face towards you, looking for answers that Jotaro refuses to give.

Jotaro needs to be quick. He pushes past his friend, earning an irate grunt from him as he knocks his shoulder forcefully. The crowd giggles amusedly as Jotaro rushes to crouch to the ground and swipe the pair of condoms into his seething fist. Looking down on him, finally lower than you despite your short stature, is titillatingly enticing.

He rises as his friend snaps accusations at him, shoving the condoms back towards your chest assertively. Your arms remain crossed, though you infuriate him with a glance towards the blue peeking between his fingers. His lips part with the first genuine sign of assured embarrassment he’s shown, and along with his begging eyes he’s certainly coming undone. You scoff a laugh at him though he glares down at you, his friend tugging at his jacket insisting he calm down.

Jotaro resigns. He stuffs the condoms into his pocket with a spitting tsk, embarrassment shying away to make room for uninhibited rage. His friend huffs as Jotaro grips his upper arm and starts dragging him past you. He makes sure to clip your shoulder with his arm as he passes you, sending you one final message, a warning.

It goes unheeded.

~

Gym class is hardly worth Jotaro’s time. He makes the most of it as a free period, listening to sportscasts on a portable radio. The bleachers of the outdoor track make a fine resting spot high above the other, more obedient students as they loop perpetually around the asphalt track. Teachers don’t bother to attempt to coerce him into participating. They knew the drill by now; they let him puff on a cigarette as long as he keeps far enough away from them so they don’t have to smell it. He’s just thankful to be left alone for a few brief, cherished moments.

Those moments don’t last long.

He opens his eyes after enjoying the solace of his sportscast when he hears you stomping up the bleachers, the hollow metallic sound already irritating enough without knowing who was causing it. He meets your gaze with a curl of his upper lip and a deeper furrowing of his brow, his expression telling you to fuck off without needing to use his words. He takes a drag on his cigarette as you pass him, billowing smoke tossing with the current your body tears through the still air.

Getting him alone is exactly what you needed. He might be hiding his abilities because there’s other people around, you reason. Can everyone else see it, too?

You plop down just one bleacher superior to his own, a hollow clang marking the indifferent manner in which you set down a radio of your own. Jotaro doesn’t turn to meet your smug gaze, the hair on the back of his head glistening blueish under the afternoon sun.

What type of music would he hate the most? Your bite the inside of your lip in thought, swiping a line of sweat that dots your hairline from the late September heat. Jotaro’s jacket is thick and dark; how is he not sweltering right now?

You tune the radio to the first station that comes through the grating static. Usually Seiko Matsuda would be perfectly tolerable, but as you crank up the volume, her pleasant voice quickly becomes quite abrasive. Jotaro’s shoulders hunch over himself with a plainly evident ill temper. His sportscast is no match for the sultry beats, easily drowned out from the sheer volume of your music. Pushing his buttons becomes easier and easier, much to your delight.

In fact, it doesn’t take nearly as long for him to retaliate as he had in the past. He’s not in the mood for vague threats or veiled irritation, taking a much more forward approach. Your eyes widen as he turns suddenly to launch something directly into the speaker of your radio, effectively muffling the sound enough to bring the sportscast to clarity once again.

You’d normally be wickedly irate at someone damaging your property, especially as it sputters out into silence, but your attention is captured by something much more inciting. A flash of purple lines the muscles of his forearm, iridescent in the bright sunlight and absolutely captivating. You look down on him with heavy, smug eyes and your legs crossed tightly. Your foot dangles too close to Jotaro’s shoulder for his liking; he jerks away from you, leaning to collect the Zippo that was lodged in the circuitry of your radio. You suppose you should feign a normal reaction, considering you’re not sure if Jotaro knows you can see the intriguing purple specter.  

“What the fuck, dickbrain?” you snarl, caressing the remains of your radio. You have to shout over the ambient cheering of a crowd from Jotaro’s radio.

“You’re damn annoying,” Jotaro leers, not afraid to meet your gaze under the brim of his hat.

It’s like he’s teasing you, giving you only brief glances of violet that makes you want to beg for more. You’re too prideful for that, and despite your prodding and goading he seems just as unyielding as ever. It’s becoming increasingly apparent, though, that even the cool and collected Jotaro has a limit.

You’re staunchly curious as to what that limit is.

You uncross your legs smoothly, bringing the tip of your shoe to the undershirt beneath his jacket. He huffs a breath with the contact, his eyes trailing from your foot and up your thigh. Your lips pout with victory as you notice his eyes unsheath from the shadow of his hat to linger between your legs, his attention obviously captured by the flash of color there. He swallows briefly before returning your gaze with a burning fury in his eyes.

“Yeah? What’cha gonna do about it?” you antagonize, rolling your ankle to sully his shirt further. The disrespect doesn’t go unnoticed as his lip curls, making way for the barely-there, quiet growl that escapes from between his teeth.

“You fucking--”

You extend your knee with a jolt, sending his torso backwards with the thrust. He grunts with the unexpected incivility, clamoring to catch his balance before he would tumble down the rising levels of the bleachers.

You get what you want.

He propels himself forward with the assistance of broad arms that appear by his side, supporting his shoulders with an authoritative grip. You admire the hue and muscle of them, gloved hands obfuscating bulky fingers. You’re no match for its strength, your leg bending to its will as your knee bends.

Your smug expression infuriates him to a tight grip of your ankle. He snaps your foot off of him, opening your legs for a brief moment. You allow yourself to be manhandled, the purple fingers digging into your skin deliciously. You’re particularly forgiving, considering the way Jotaro holds you in that position just a bit longer than he needs to do get a better view. He seems surprised by his own actions, dropping your leg hastily and phasing his purple companion out of view. He hides within the forgiving shadow of his hat once more. You keep your legs uncrossed and agape, just enough to invite his glance but not assert it. He doesn’t take the invitation, his fists clenched as he meets you with pinpoint pupils. You see more of the whites of his eyes than you have before.

You need to hide that you’ve seen it, though every part of you wants to interrogate him further. The tension of his jaw prevents you from saying anything, favoring action as opposed to words. You wonder why he’s not saying anything since you two were relatively unbothered by witnesses. You want to know what he’s thinking, but you don’t dare ask.

You eye the scuff of dirt on his shirt as you lean down, your arms pressing your cleavage against the constraint of your ever-increasingly revealing constraints of your uniform, a flash of a lacy bra peeking from the plain white collared shirt. Jotaro does nothing except seethe quietly as you pluck the half-finished cigarette from his lips; he gives you a little resistance but is caught off guard by your assertiveness. As you bring the cigarette to your lips, you watch his reaction carefully, drinking in the anger that burns from the terseness of his muscles. He’s usually so coolheaded, perhaps infuriatingly so, and you grin with the thought that you’ve managed to bother him so apparently. Perhaps he’s too proud to give a woman a lashing.

It only motivates you to take things even further.

You don’t smoke his brand, Casters too expensive for your budget. You see why he likes them as you inhale harshly and the woody taste of tobacco courses past your tongue and into your waiting lungs. Jotaro waits incredulously, eyes focused on your lips as they pout around the cigarette, the red-hot ash smoldering. You exhale through the breadth of your lips, sending billowing smoke towards Jotaro’s face. He keeps his eyes open stubbornly, jaw jutting as his fingernails dig into the meat of his fist.

As you breathe out, your head rushes with the promise of nicotine, the sensation accentuating the flutter in your chest as you boldly mock Jotaro. His statuesque positioning is obviously an attempt to dissuade you, like placating a childhood bully into getting bored at the lack of visible irritation. It doesn’t work. Instead, it’s charming, and oh so inviting.

You pull the cigarette from your lips with a flick of your tongue, savoring the earthiness of it before raising it above Jotaro’s head.

He stares at you with hot disbelief as you ash the cigarette on the bill of his hat, stray ashes cascading past his view. You bring it back to your mouth, offering a provocative grin. Does he know how stupid he looks with that expression? You consider telling him.

Your decision is made for you quicker than you can consider it as Jotaro whips his hand towards your face, swiping the cigarette onto the steel of the bleachers. He stomps it out, grinding it to dust; he’s probably wishing he could do the same to you. He rises quickly, finally towering over you, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep himself in line.

You eye his radio, still spouting nonsense about baseball that you’ve been ignoring. He doesn’t bother to collect it as he turns and trudges down the bleachers, ripping his hat off of his head to clear the brim of the debris. You’re disappointed, your smile falling in favor of a crestfallen grimace. If that wasn’t enough to show you more, what would be?

You consider your options and choose the one with the most promising prospects. It’s also the riskiest choice, but you decide to ignore that in favor of the excitement that churns in your belly.

~

Jotaro’s home is expectedly opulent, with wide expanses of traditional architecture and a sozu garden. It’s easy to conceal your presence behind the many winding hallways formed by traditional buildings. What isn’t so easy is keeping track of Jotaro, considering he moves in and out of doors, always closing them behind him. You find it amusing that he keeps his school uniform on even an hour past school ending. You’re usually anxious to tear it off as soon as you step through your door in favor of some pajamas, or, in the heat of summer, nothing at all. He’s respectful enough, fulfilling apparent chores like hanging laundry to dry and sweeping the porch. There’s an ever-present scowl that furrows his brow even as he does the most menial tasks.

Jotaro disappears into what must be his bedroom, as you spot some sports paraphernalia and a neatly made bed behind the shoji he slides shut hurriedly. You scowl, this plan less eventful than you anticipated. You finally spot a blond-haired chipper woman call to Jotaro from outside his door. She says something you can’t hear as he appears, reluctantly sliding his door open with an attitude. He shrugs before shutting the door in her face. She doesn’t seem particularly upset by it, though, as she collects her bag and heads towards a luxe-looking car parked at the front of the house.

You yawn, tired from being woken up at the ass-crack of dawn by your harping mother. As you open your eyes from the effort of the yawn, you find Jotaro’s bedroom door slid open, yet he’s nowhere to be seen. You wait to see movement, wondering if he went to the kitchen or another room you’ve yet to identify. All you see is the gentle rustling of the leaves that adorn trees decorating the property’s perimeter, the wind tousling your hair with them.

For such a hot-headed guy, his home is quite serene. He doesn’t blare music or bounce a ball against the wall, he simply goes about his business quietly. The milieu isn’t what you expected; he must be some sort of loner, keeping to himself this much. Is he that much of an unlikeable douche, or does he prefer things this way?

Your pondering is interrupted by a sudden, unpleasant choking of your windpipe.

You gurgle as you’re thrust backwards, your back pressed against a crushing edifice. You heave your chest fruitlessly, trying to catch the breath that’s been knocked out of you. Your shoulder blades burn with the pressure of two strong hands bearing you into the wooden beams unforgivingly, heat searing the knobs of your spine. Where the hands meet your skin, the sensation of static, like when a limb falls asleep, overrides the pain.

Your eyes open to meet stony blue irises, pinpointed with fury that you’ve never seen before. Normally, you’d smile at seeing Jotaro so perturbed. However, as your gut wrenches with tension, you find yourself unable to do anything but grimace. You search his person, finding his hands buried in his pockets, relying on brawny purple hands to keep you in place.

You can’t help but stare at the gloved hands that dissipate to nothingness before you, fear overtaking your sensibilities.

“You can see him?”

Jotaro’s evident anger in his features turns to hesitance, studying your reaction to the question. You’re too interested in the way that he refers to the hands as “he” to hide the obvious answer to his question laid out on your face.

Just as your breath returns to you, you lose it again. From nothingness, a burst of stardust announces his presence quicker than you can begin to understand what you’re seeing. Twinkling stars reflect in your eyes as they dissipate as quickly as they came. Closer to you than you thought, a pair of spine-chillingly focused eyes bore into your own. An unfamiliar feeling of sheepishness comes over you as your eyes explore the being’s face, angular, refined, and undeniably pissed.

Your arms raise as much as you can muster to grasp his forearms, not in defiance but rather a sense of grounding. It’s as if you’re not sure that this thing is real, and that you can feel it. Indeed, static weaves its way through your palms as you mold your hands around the apparent muscle.

He pushes you further into the wood, causing it to creak and complain. You drop your hands, knocking them against the building as you feel yourself growing lightheaded.

“Bring out your stand,” Jotaro challenges from behind the opaque purple of the being’s back.

“W-what?” You manage to choke out, your eyes exploring the galaxy that is the being’s ever-flowing hair. Despite your fear, you feel a grin crawling across your face. You’d gotten what you wanted; unfortunately, the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal.

“You want to fight, then let’s fight,” Jotaro says coolly.

“Fight?” you grunt. “I don’t want to--”

The being releases the pressure on your shoulders, only to jolt you forward by taking the front of your shirt into his fist. He’s provoking you, jerking you suddenly to steal your balance from you. In your stunned breathlessness, all he accomplishes is exposing your bra and cleavage to prying eyes.

“I can’t beat the shit out of a girl at school, but there’s nothing stopping me here,” Jotaro growls, his voice omnipresent as his form is obfuscated.

“I swear,” you utter, “I don’t want to fight.”

“Too bad.”

You’re hoisted into the air by a strength too quick to see, wrapping his arms around your torso as your back is supported by his chest. You finally see Jotaro, looking upon you with disdain.

“I just---” you writhe within the constraints, your arms held in place too close to your chest for comfortable breathing. “I wanted to see it.”

Jotaro raises his brow at you for just a moment. If you weren’t watching his face, desperate for mercy, you would have missed it. Your eyes flicker to the scuff mark of cigarette ash on his hat.

“What? Star Platinum?” he asks, his voice low.

Star Platinum? This thing had a name?

You cough with the pressure around your rib cage, kicking your legs backwards. You’re surprised to meet resistance; you didn’t think this being had legs.

If he has legs, then he has an obvious weak point.

You grunt as you swing your leg backwards between his legs, only for it to be caught between his knees. Shit, he’s fast. Jotaro huffs with amusement as you fight and jerk madly against your captor, teeth gritted and eyes burning into Jotaro’s infuriatingly prideful expression.

“Why?” Jotaro crones, approaching you confidently.

“Why, what?” you spit, the muscles of your leg beginning to ache almost as much as your chest.

Jotaro scoffs, insulted by your denseness. “You’ve been fucking with me all day. Why?”

You muster a crocodile smile. “It comes out when you’re pissed, doesn’t it?”

Jotaro takes a moment to put two and two together. He doesn’t bother asking you how you’ve come to that conclusion, far more concerned about other matters. He steps even closer to you, and you take the opportunity in stride.

He catches your ankle with ease when you slam your leg towards his face. You whine with frustration as you’re rendered immobile, your face heating with the exertion.

“And you thought you could get away with it?” Jotaro snarks, leaning into your face just outside of head-butting range. You scowl with his antagonistic prying, desperate for a full breath of air. He opens your legs just enough, the plushness of your thighs revealed as your skirt slides aside towards your hips.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, your voice strained by the bitterness of the apology and the constraint of Star Platinum’s embrace. “I don’t want… to fight.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Jotaro sneers, his eyes peering just barely from under the brim of his hat. You resent the tone he takes: cocky and self-assured.

You retaliate by spitting what little saliva you have onto his face, forcing him to close his eyes and jolt with the insult.

“Doubt it,” you growl, maintaining what little dignity you have left.

Curiously, he huffs a chuckle as he wipes your spit from his cheek and releases your leg before stepping back. You furrow your brows with confusion, only for fear to overtake your features once again. Star Platinum releases you suddenly, sending you to collapse onto the ground. You curse, gripping your scuffed knees, though you’re thankful for the full expansion of your diaphragm relieving the dizzy lightness in your head.

Star Platinum appears behind Jotaro, allowing you to view him in his entirety. They look down at you with identical eyes, though a mysterious wind undulates the fabric of Star Platinum’s loin cloth. You plant your palms into the ground to stabilize yourself, taken aback by just how big he is. You didn’t think there was anything that could dwarf Jotaro so easily.

“Prove it, then,” Jotaro instigates as he widens his stance, freeing his fists from his pockets. You feel rage build in your gut; you’re not used to being humiliated liked this, left with bloody knees and an aching in your shoulder. You didn’t want to fight, but your honor and pride are being dangled in front of you like a carrot to a horse.

Despite your fatigue, you spring towards Jotaro like a sprinter bursting from their starting blocks. Jotaro purses his lips with what must be his attempt at a smile, keeping his stance confidently despite your advance. You ready your fists as you side-step your path, hopefully thwarting whatever plan Jotaro is brewing by dissipating Star Platinum out of view.

You’re just a few paces short of him when you’re yanked backwards, your wrists captured by what might be the strongest grip you’ve ever felt. Your shoulders protest as you’re dragged backwards towards the wall. You try to catch yourself by digging the heels of your shoes into the ground to no avail. You grunt as your back is slammed against the hardness again, your wrists pinned above your head by a pair of hands that glisten in the sunlight.

You start to let out a guttural cry before Jotaro claps his palm against your mouth. You meet his composed gaze with one of pure spite, choked by the meat of his hand. The skin tastes salty and bitter like soap as you grate your teeth against it, kicking your legs against the oppressive force against them. Your petulance is fruitless, having no effect on either of them.

Jotaro waits for you to tire yourself out, which doesn’t take too long considering the searing pain in your wrists and shoulders. Hot breath from your nose cascades around the back of his hand as you quiet down into angry whimpers, relaxing your muscles into the constraints imposed upon you. Jotaro can sense your will weakening, your ego taking the hit as you come to terms with the first opponent that you know you can’t beat. The way he avoids hitting or pummeling you is irritatingly insulting; what he sees as conserving his energy, you interpret as pity.

He releases your mouth, revealing your gritted teeth and sweat-slicked jaw. He says nothing, only warranting your reaction with a calculating glare. You’ve never had to stand down in a fight, and have no idea what to do or say. You just want to kick him in the balls and be on your way, yearning for a cigarette.

Jotaro understands your surrender, weakening Star Platinum’s grip on your wrists. You sigh with relief, the bones of your wrist beginning to ache deeply. You’re waiting for him to release you, considering the unexpected amount of mercy that he offers you.

He doesn’t. Instead, he grips something else.

You grimace as he takes your thighs into his heated palms, the slick of your spit making you shiver. You kick your knees out with your remaining ego, weakened by pain and spite.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you fume, watching his fingers trail up your thigh towards the pleats of your skirt.

“I know you’re a dumb bitch,” Jotaro snarls, “but you can’t be that stupid.”

You have to take the insult in stride, not having many other options. Your cheeks flush as Jotaro pulls his chest flush with yours, the hardness of it pressing your spine further into the building. You scowl, Jotaro’s fingers tickling the sensitive skin above your thigh-high socks of your uniform.

You don’t see Jotaro’s grin as you open your legs for his touch, not entirely due to your conscious decision. Jotaro doesn’t seem like the type to wear cologne, yet as you breathe in precious air your eyes close with a musk you’ve never been close enough to him to notice before.

“Let me go,” you command weakly, your voice wavering with the feeling of Jotaro’s chest pressing into you with each of his breaths. You contort your fingers against the pressure on your muscles, insisting he obey. Not that you’re in any position to be demanding anything.

Jotaro tsks close to your ear, his quiet nature amplified with his proximity. You didn’t genuinely expect him to listen to you, letting your arms drop to your sides with a quick release. You relish the feeling of cool air on your wrists, not daring to prod Jotaro into doing something similar to you again.

Jotaro backs up to stare down at you curiously, as if he’s awaiting your next move in a battle. You squint into the sun as you meet his gaze, just as unsure of your approach as he is.

You do what your gut tells you to do, unable to think clearly enough for a quip or attack.

He recoils when you press your lips against his harshly, his brows coming together with the contact. With your newly freed hand, you grip the back of his neck, digging your fingernails into the skin to keep him in place as you deepen the kiss that he does not reciprocate.

It doesn’t last long before you’re torn off of him, Star Platinum grabbing your arm to turn you on your heels. You yelp as your hands reach out for stability, finding the broad chest that materializes in front of you. Jotaro wipes your spit off his lips with the back of his hand, trailing your body as Star Platinum embraces your sides.

Jotaro drives his fist into your lower back, forcing you to arch your spine to reveal the contours of your panties. You balance your cheekbone onto the meat of Star Platinum’s chest, bracing his forearms for balance.

Jotaro doesn’t bother with pleasantries, jutting his hips against the heat that burns between your legs. You scowl into the staticy sensation that electrifies your face as he grips your hips and drags you onto his hardness, rough from the texture of his slacks.

Just because you’ve lost doesn’t give Jotaro the right to manhandle you like this, you decide. You shift your weight to free one of your arms. Your breath hitches as Jotaro’s thumbs slide under the elastic of your panties, knowing you needed to act quick to retain your dignity.

You palm the tenting of Star Platinum’s loincloth before digging your fingers into the base, the size of it bringing a grin to your lips. How could this be contained by the rather modest cloth?

Jotaro grunts with the pressure of your hand, his fingers burning bruises into your skin. His reaction is curious, especially the way he grinds his hips into yours. You explore further, digging your fingernails into the underside of his cock.

Jotaro hisses, reaching forward to rip your hand off of the hardness under your ministration. You breathe a chuckle despite the ache in your shoulder returning as Jotaro bends your arm backwards.

“Do that again, this arm is coming off,” he growls. You can hear his seriousness.

He must’ve felt that, you reason. The concept amuses you, despite the looming threat of amputation. You suppose you’ll have to play nice, considering Jotaro has obviously bested you with plenty of potential to spare.  

Jotaro releases your arm, satisfied with the lack of snark in return. You grasp Star Platinum’s hip as Jotaro grips the hem of your skirt, the threads clicking with pressure as he tries to pull it off of you. It’s too secure, though, fitted to your person.

He’s too impatient for the zipper and too frustrated by the day’s events to bother further, instead pushing your skirt up and over your hips with a huff. You rest your forehead against the stability of his chest, knees coming together with a sense of shyness you’re not familiar with nipping at your gut. Determined to ignore the sensation of Jotaro pulling down your panties, you cast aside Star Platinum’s loincloth with a hasty flick of your wrist.

You can’t help but stare, the sheer size of it falling wayside to the uniqueness of its features. Your fingers trail the ridges that encircle the shaft to the tip, lined by small bumps. The head is plump and spongy under your thumb as you press into it, the sensation of electricity amplifying with the drop of precum that you drag into a strand. Jotaro barely gets your panties to your knees before working on his belt; rather, you can only assume that’s what he’s doing, since all you can hear is the tingling of clanging metal.

His knee juts between yours, spreading your legs with urgency. He’s satisfied with your obedience to his ushering, finally managing to knock you off the pedestal you’ve built for yourself. You take Star Platinum’s cock into your grasp as you maintain your balance and push away sheepishness at the sudden exposure. Your fist tightens when Jotaro runs an impertinent finger along your slit, humming at the way it drenches his digit with ease. He hunches over you, bringing his lips close to your ear.

“Is this why you brought those condoms?” Jotaro murmurs, heat behind his voice with the prospects in front of him. You smell cigarettes on his breath, rolling your eyes into the craving that comes over you once again.

“Don’t need ‘em,” you assure with a slur, looking behind you to catch a glimpse of Jotaro’s incredulous grin. The look is foreign on his face, for once brightened by something other than rightfully earned self-satisfaction.

He doesn’t warn you before plunging two fingers into you, your eyes closing as you hiss at the penetration. You tighten around his fingers despite his insistent prodding, your chest heaving as he grinds against your insides. He’s testing you, assessing your capacity. He rises again to angle his fingers for deeper penetration, scissoring them inside you.

You run your fist along the breadth of Star Platinum’s cock in return, admiring the strange presence that bucks its hips into the pump. You match Jotaro’s pace as he slides in and out, hardly able to fit his cock in your fist. Your thumb and fingers don’t touch, the bulk of it too wide. You close your eyes with the sensations that begin to overwhelm you. You eventually come to welcome the way Jotaro’s fingers slide against you, feeling bitter when he withdraws them too quickly.

Jotaro uses the same hand to rope your hair between his fingers, jerking your head away from the comfort you’ve found as your eyes are forced into opening. You grimace with the stinging of your scalp, gritting your teeth as you try to collect yourself enough to spit out revenge.

“You wanted to see him, so look at him,” he barks, releasing your hair as he tosses your head back onto Star Platinum’s chest. You keep your eyes open as you stroke him, watching the way his “skin” molds to your touch. The pad of your finger circles the sensitive underside of his head, earning a groan from Jotaro behind you.

He rewards you with a rounded stroke of the underside of your clit, the pleasure craning your spine. You huff and raise your hips, begging his fingers to touch it in its entirety. The sight makes Jotaro’s cock ache in the constraints of his boxers, the tension relieved as he frees himself from them with a tug of the waistband. He circles the nub, much to your delight as you sigh the first pleasurable moan between your lips, genuine and needy.

His frustration and impatience grows with each stroke of Star Platinum’s cock. You grunt as his fist comes down between your shoulder blades, jolting you downwards and testing your flexibility. You press your cheek into the divet of Star Platinum’s hip, his cock looking even larger at eye-level. You begin to say something, but you’re swiftly interrupted by further manhandling as Jotaro jerks you backwards by pulling on your arm. You grit your teeth with the singe of pain in your shoulder, only for your breath to be taken from you once again as you’re faced with the head of Star Platinum’s cock, slicked with precum.

Star Platinum’s hand grips the back of your head rather tenderly as you debate the possibility that they’re asking this from you. You shake your head, looking up at the stoic blue eyes that Jotaro looks at you through. He squeezes your wrist, insisting, instructing.

You manage to part your lips through your trembling jaw, eyeing the head that you doubt could possibly fit. You hold back a grunt as he pries your lips apart with the tip, stretching your mouth open for him. In fear and adrenaline, your mouth feels parched; however, as you taste the alien sweetness of Star Platinum’s precum, saliva floods the floor of your mouth. Jotaro releases your arm, knowing you’d be compliant whether you liked it or not, and hunches over you again. You squirm under the weight, too busy trying to fit his cock into your mouth to protest. Your eyes widen as Jotaro’s cock rests between the mounds of your ass with the position.

He pops the buttons of your top off as he rips the hem open, exposing you with a harsh burning of tense fabric on your chest. He works quickly at your bra, leaving it torn in the middle as he embraces your breasts greedily. The urge to slap him across the face for ruining your rather expensive bra dissipates as he kneads your chest roughly, indulging in what you’ve been teasing him with all day. You dig your fingers into Star Platinum’s thighs as he drives his cock further into your mouth with a swift thrust. You gag as the head bumps against the back of your throat, forcing your tongue flat across your bottom teeth.

Your protests mean nothing to either of them as you try to sputter and turn your head, his strong hand keeping you in place easily. Thankfully, just as you start finding it hard to breathe, he withdraws to allow you to cough and bitch to your heart’s desire.

Strangely, you don’t feel the need to complain as Jotaro rolls your nipples between a pinch of his fingers. Lead drops in your gut as he flicks a pad of his finger across one, licking your lips to clear the excess saliva that pooled. Your eyelids feel heavy with the gracious break that you’ve been given.

Star Platinum gets a better hold of your head before driving himself back into your mouth with little warning. You relax your throat as best you can, the tension in your jaw burning as he pushes its limits. You can barely take half of the shaft before tears form at your waterline, tempting to drop with any movement.

Two tears fall as Jotaro releases your chest to rise, grinding his cock against your slickness. You try to choke out a grunt as he lines himself up with your entrance, already prodding you. Star Platinum finds a rhythm that you don’t fight too hard, a steady thrusting that forces drool to escape your lips and dangle from your chin in strands. Each time he pulls out far enough for you to take a breath, you cry out to Jotaro who begins sliding his cock into you without pause.

“Shut up.”

You swallow Star Platinum as he thrusts deeper into your throat, grinding your top teeth along the flesh in necessity. It effectively mutes you as Jotaro drives himself inside, holding your hips still as you try to groan with the penetration. His silence grates you, especially as you whine into the pressure between your legs. You manage to wrangle your mouth free by whipping your head to the right, catching both of them off guard.

“Hey--” you start, only to be interrupted by Star Platinum’s fingers hooking into your cheek. You growl, guttural and pissed. “Let me say something, fuckface.”

Your garbled words amuse Jotaro enough to withdraw Star Platinum’s fingers. You spit, relieving the taste of precum and the sensation of static from your tongue.

“Will you fuck me like you mean it, already?” you snarl, Star Platinum’s cock rubbing against your cheek.

Jotaro chuckles, the sound of it alien to you. Star Platinum’s thumb hooks the bottom row of your teeth, taking your lower jaw into his grip. He straightens your head forward, your breath heating the slicked head of his cock.

He holds you there, eyeing the wetted purple ridges that put you on edge. You prepare yourself, holding your breath and relaxing your tongue. Saliva pools in the bottom of your mouth, anticipating the sweet taste of precum that dots his tip.

Jotaro thrusts into you, making you yelp as he grinds flush with your body. You grit your teeth into the pulp of Star Platinum’s thumb, an aching throb winding its way through your pelvis. You underestimated how big Jotaro would be, your legs feeling weak as he draws out of you slowly, only to pound into you again. Your groans are amplified by the way Star Platinum holds your jaw agape, prying your teeth off of his thumb.

You haven’t adjusted to Jotaro’s pace when Star Platinum drives his cock back into your throat, the impact of it weakening your resolution. You drink in the sound of Jotaro’s hushed groan as he quickens his rhythm, working in sync with Star Platinum. After Jotaro’s cock drives you forward onto Star Platinum’s cock, he returns the favor by jutting his hips to push you back. Jotaro’s tip pouts against your cervix, the sensation curling your toes and arching your back. Jotaro pushes you back into place with an authoritative palm, deepening his penetration and testing your limits.

You don’t bother holding yourself up, Jotaro and Star Platinum doing a good enough job between them. You focus on keeping your throat loose and recovering from the jolts of pleasure that sink into your bones from Jotaro’s hard and fast thrusting. Through all of it, through the fog and dizziness that claims your logical thought, you hone in on one thing.

The absolute, undeniable pleasure that rips its way through your resolve.

You close your eyes as you allow one of your arms to dangle. Slowly but surely, against the opposing forces that work on your body, you reach down to your clit and rub with a desperate rolling of your finger. You tighten around Jotaro with the stimulation, breathing heavy to accommodate the lack of adequate oxygen.

Jotaro releases your hip with a snap, forcing you to regain your balance on one leg. He rips your hand away from the pleasure that brings you some semblance of control, bending your arm behind your back.

“You enjoying this?” Jotaro sneers without pausing, using your forearm as leverage. You whine at the stimulation that quickly overtakes you again as your autonomy is taken from you once again.

You can’t answer, but the question wasn’t rhetorical. You gasp as Star Platinum withdraws to rest his tip against your tongue, allowing you precious breath. Jotaro slows, penetrating you shallowly with the border of his tip. You roll your hips with conviction, though your unabashed attempt only inspires a sultry grin on Jotaro and Star Platinum’s faces.

“Hm?”

After a day of teasing, Jotaro apparently decides that it’s his turn. You flick the underside of Star Platinum with your tongue, trying to tempt him into taking your mouth again. It’s fruitless, both of them giving you only just enough to want more. You know what Jotaro wants from you, the thought of it making you roll your eyes with impudence. Despite your already-wavering dignity, begging is a bit too much for your sensibilities held together by threads.

But God, is it tempting.

Jotaro tugs on your forearm, a reminder that he expects an answer either way. Star Platinum slides out from between your lips, your eyes following the meat of it as he slaps it against your cheek. You close one eye as he stickies your skin with spit and precum, thumping it against your cheekbone infuriatingly. Strands of spit break with your breathing, sticking to your chin.

You mumble something under your breath, barely audible. If Star Platinum didn’t have incredible hearing, Jotaro wouldn’t have heard anything at all.

“Hm?”

You squint your eyes with frustration, rolling your tongue over the air-cooled tip that prods your lips. Instead of repeating yourself, you let your actions speak for themselves.

It isn’t good enough.

Star Platinum withdraws from you and Jotaro slows to a halt. You groan as you crane your neck to stare daggers at Jotaro, pulling on your arm indignantly. The heat in your belly grows into frustration, your body kept infuriatingly stagnant.

“You asked so nicely before,” Jotaro sneers, meeting your gaze confidently. His cock hardens for a moment inside you, sending shivers through your spine. He drinks in your expression, pleased as you try to hide your desires through transparent intimidation.

“If you’re gonna do it, fucking do it,” you gripe, throat sore from the beating it’s taken.

“Do what?”

You scoff with the idiotic question, grimacing at the teasing. Apparently, what goes around, comes around.

“C’mon,” you spit.

Silence. You can’t convince yourself to look behind you and meet Jotaro’s smug gaze as he prods you irritatingly lightly.

“Fuck me,” you finally command, not resorting to pleading. Jotaro tsks, his fingers tracing the muscles along your spine to come rest on your hips. He squeezes them with conviction, letting you know that he would have the final say.

Jotaro grinds into you, sending you reeling into Star Platinum’s hips. After one full filling of your boundaries, he only gives you only half of what you want. With not nearly enough length or speed, he technically does as he’s asked.

You spit curses at him, your words muffled by the cock in your mouth. He hums amusedly, enjoying the way you try to rock your hips back onto him.

“What?” he goads, the lilt to his voice curling your lip.

“You know what,” you bark with a grit to your voice.

Jotaro continues his infuriating pace despite your fist thumping into Star Platinum’s thigh. He’s waiting, and you know it.

“Harder,” you command, resenting the begging tone you’re forced to adopt. Jotaro, however, enjoys it thoroughly.

Jotaro awards your efforts with a thorough pounding, no compassion given despite your terse groaning. You expect Star Platinum to return the favor in kind, but he pulls out of your mouth and leaves it agape.

Jotaro thumps the heel of his palm against your shoulder, bending you further at the waist. Star Platinum pushes your clavicle into the ground as Jotaro keeps your hips flush with his own, knocking you onto your knees. Dirt sticks to the spit that slicks your chin, though it’s the least of your concerns as Star Platinum’s foot stomps onto your shoulder blade. You take his ankle into your fist, pinned to the ground as Jotaro takes advantage of the newfound leverage to take from you what he needs most. Your fingernails, dug into Star Platinum’s skin, seem to do nothing as you try to regain the control you’re hungry for.

You sense an opportunity when Star Platinum shifts his weight. You slide your shoulder out from his hold and snap your teeth into the tendons of his ankle, biting as hard as you can muster. Finally, they recoil, freeing you for a desperately needed moment. You take advantage of the opening to knock Jotaro back onto his calves with your hips before sliding off of him too fast. He curses as you turn to straddle him, your thighs taking over his as you finally relish in some semblance of control. You know that you could be quickly overpowered, but as you grip the meat of his shoulders and look down on him from a vantage point, you try to ignore that fact.

Jotaro glares up at you as you guide yourself onto him, sinking your hips into his with hurried spite. He hisses, tolerating the position only because you roll your hips onto him so hungrily. Your hands explore his chest, winding under the thickness of his jacket to toy with the army green fabric that hides his musculature. You huff a giggle at your shoe print there, dirt seemingly marking your territory. Jotaro would never admit it to you, but he’s reviling in the attention that you give him as opposed to Star Platinum, feeling your touches much more intensely this way. You feel real to him, your hair swaying in front of your face with each strenuous pulse.

You stare at him as he reaches up to brush your hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. You almost laugh, feeling infantilized by the gesture, his motives not entirely known to you. The kindness is quickly relinquished as he tugs on your hair with an unforgiving fist. He hides his gaze under his hat, his other hand taking your breast into his palm. The chill of the metal of his belt buckle heats against your thigh as you press into it.

You grin at the idea that pops into your head, looking down at the cigarette ash scuff on his hat.  You pluck it from his head by the brim, exposing the curling locks that slick his sweaty forehead. Without pausing your rhythm, fearing that Jotaro wouldn’t tolerate your fucking if you did, you perch the hat atop your own head. You grin smugly as the brim shadows your eyes, his hat just a tad too large for your head as it dips sloppily. To your amusement and surprise, Jotaro huffs a grin of his own as he looks up at you, flashing a peek of teeth. There’s viciousness behind the smile; you don’t forget his true intentions in the brevity of intimacy.

You arch your spine as Star Platinum grips the back of your neck, a warning rather than a threat. You seethe with the static that lightnings its way through you at the touch, tightening you around Jotaro.

Jotaro curls his lip as Star Platinum lifts you off of him, your point made clearly enough that you’re still recalcitrant enough to hurt him to maintain composure.

He’d have to crack that pesky attitude of yours one way or another.

Star Platinum holds the back of your thighs, hands hooked around the back of your knees, as he presses your back into his chest. You scowl at the exposure as he spreads your legs to wait for Jotaro who takes his time to rise to your level, enjoying the view. Your entrance is reddened and sore, waiting for more. Whatever power you had has been swept out from under you again, infuriating you.

Jotaro taps the pads of his fingers against your skinned knees, a surge of pain kicking your legs out. He chuckles at your hand moving to slap him away, catching your wrist with ease. Your face heats as you feel Star Platinum’s cock press into your lower back, the distinct sensation of his presence beginning to arouse you simply with its existence.

Jotaro overlaps Star Platinum’s hands with his own as he lines himself up with you, already well-slicked. You reach up to try and take Star Platinum’s hair between your fingers, met with a strange sensation that furrows your brows. It’s almost intangible, cold and slick like glass, though it molds to your touch and swirls incessantly between your fingers. A hollow awe settles in your gut, as if you looked into a great abyss whose mysteries were yet to be discovered. You’re taken away from the feeling of wonder as Jotaro glides into you, Star Platinum settling you into the pressure of it. You hiss with Jotaro, your limits tested again with the aid of gravity, taking Jotaro in his entirety. Your free hand grips the chain of Jotaro’s jacket, draping the hem off of his shoulder.

You’re not sure how much more you can take, the angle that Jotaro rubs against you hitting your sweet spot. Jotaro quickens his pace to match your breathing, watching your knuckles turn white as you grip the chain. He shouldn’t encourage you, given how he daydreamed of getting back at you since first period, but your whining groans and furrowed brows boost his ego too much to stop. He leans close into you, pressing your sweaty chest into his as he captures the jutting bone under your ear between his lips, sucking angrily. You bury your nose in his hair, eyes closing as he singes into something inside you. You take his torso into your arms, pressing him closer, begging without words to keep going and don’t dare stop.

He does.

You seethe, fiery and hot. Jotaro chuckles as you pound your fist into his back, the pressure dissipating into a hollow ache. You grasp at it like straws, clawing at the promise of orgasm that Jotaro holds just out of reach.

“Fucking… prick,” you growl, digging your fingernails into the back of his neck and burning a glare into his eyes.

He huffs, curling his lip with smugness. “What?”

You sneer, gripping the back of his head by his hair with a rough tug. He looks down at you with heavy lids, the blue of his eyes darkened by mischief. You know what he wants, but you don’t want to give it to him.

You have to, if you’re going to get what you need.

“Please,” you pant, rolling your hips against his grip. He raises a brow at your obvious pleading, not expecting you to be so forward. He purses his lips, sliding his tongue between them as he studies your expression.

He cocks his head to the side, nudging more from you. You have to set aside your ego before the pressure that’s been building in your gut dissolves into nothing.

You can’t hide your oversexed expression, lips reddened and salted by sweat. “Please, Jotaro,” you continue, clawing the muscle of his shoulders. He swallows at the mention of his name.

“Please… God… Make me cum…!” you grunt, rolling your eyes as you forfeit your pride to Jotaro, who takes it gladly.

You clench your eyes shut as Jotaro compels his lips onto yours, biting your bottom lip as he drives in and out of you abruptly. You lean into the unexpected but equally captivating kiss as he swallows your groans, pumping into you delectably. Jotaro pulls away from you to bury his nose in your neck, leaving your lips wetted and hot.

Your toes curl as your pelvis burns with building pressure, suddenly heaving you over your limit. Jotaro fights resistance as you tighten, your breath catching in your throat. He chuckles close to your ear, knowing very well that he’s brought you to orgasm, though admittedly not single-handedly. He rides you through it, the added sensitivity from orgasm digging your fingers into his back through his jacket, the scent of his pomade intoxicating.

You finally take in a breath, feeling the curl of Jotaro’s smile against the skin of your neck. With the clarity of oxygen, you resent your body for encouraging Jotaro and affirming his self-satisfaction. You wouldn’t take it back though, your blood running hot and your head feeling light with oxytocin.

Jotaro leans back to assess your face, slowing his pace to stroke stray hairs off of your sweat-slicked forehead. You can only breathe heavily as you recuperate, staring daggers into Jotaro’s pinpointed pupils, both of you almost in disbelief.

Star Platinum raises you higher against his chest, the movement bringing you back to reality. As he settles you back down, your eyes widen with the invitation he takes upon himself to take.

“Hey, asshole,” you growl towards Jotaro, your tone not as intimidating as you hoped they would be.

“You know your anatomy,” Jotaro jests sarcastically. You lurch against Star Platinum’s tip that starts to drill into your hole.

Your expression turns desperate. “No, no way. That thing won’t fit,” you allow yourself to beg.

“Shut up,” Jotaro snaps, not taking you seriously. You wince as Star Platinum pries into you, pain curling your fingers.

You need him to.

You throw your hand onto his throat, squeezing the hollowing softness on each side of his trachea. He startles, eyes going wide for a moment, the hardness of your upper palm pressing into his Adam’s apple. His smug expression falls wayside to a knowing glance.

“No.”

With your staccato command, he relents, rolling his eyes at your ridiculousness. Star Platinum pulls away from you with mercy. Jotaro knows which boundaries he shouldn’t push, apparently.

Star Platinum pulls you up and off of Jotaro’s cock before he turns you towards him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he settles your heat onto his cock. You’re hesitant as you feel the breadth of it against your labia, knowing how much of a struggle it was to fit him into your mouth. The idea of him fitting inside your pussy is about as probable as your ass, but you comply with the rare mercy that they’ve shown you.

Star Platinum slicks himself with your wetness, sliding against you as he gyrates your hips. You watch his face, always careful and calculated. You wonder if he ever speaks or emotes; he must, since he smiled before. As he warms himself with you, though, he’s as stoic as ever. You brace yourself against the back of his neck, offering an exploratory touch of his face with delicate fingers. His eyes follow the sensation of your hand as you follow the angles of his face, returning to look down at you. You pry two fingers between his lips slowly, the plushness unusually similar to Jotaro’s. He opens his mouth for you, allowing you to explore his tongue and the perfect rows of teeth. You smile coolly, scissoring your fingers to take in his tongue between them. His tongue feels parched, but smooth as silk.

You curl your fingers into his lower jaw as he sinks you onto his tip, already stretching you beyond what you think you can take. He rests his top teeth against the bones of your finger, digging his own into the meat of your ass. Jotaro combs your hair back, smoothing it into his grasp. Cool air meets the back of your neck as you strain to accept the girth sliding into you, the aching around your entrance turning to sharp pain.

As he advances, the pain soothes. You relax, and with the release of tension in your muscles, your lips fall agape.

A guttural, desperate groan escapes your throat as you reel against the wave of pleasure that singes deep within your pelvis. You finally spot a genuine grin cross Star Platinum’s lips, licking your fingers tantalizingly. You start to understand why they seemed so insistent on having their fingers in your mouth as his tongue swirls around yours. You return a smile in kind, gasping as he slides flush with your entrance. Your chest peaks as he tempts every limit you have, your legs shaking as you embrace the waves of pleasure.

You tremble as he withdraws, the ridges catching on your entrance. You slide your fingers out of his mouth, the lack of saliva quite ghostlike. You favor the back of his neck, thick and stable.

Jotaro slides his hands along the curve of your waist, watching you rise and fall slowly with Star Platinum’s gentle rhythm. You huff your appreciation for his tenderness, slowly adapting to the texture and size of his cock. You can barely handle the pressure and stretching, eyes clenching shut as you grit your teeth.

Your eyes spring open as Jotaro reaches between the meeting of your bodies and drags his fingers along the softness of your labia. He rolls a finger onto your clitoris, pressing into it just gently enough. He bites his lip as you throw your head back onto his shoulder, struggling to keep what threads are left of your composure together.

Star Platinum pumps into you, testing you forgivingly. Your hips gyrate with Jotaro’s rolling of his fingers, saliva slicking your lower lip as they lay agape. Jotaro bites the folds of your ear, inserting himself back into your thoughts like an attention-starved child. You huff a chuckle in response.

It isn’t long until you relax totally, falling completely into their mercy as you conserve your energy for handling the impacts inside you and the stimulation of your clit. You breathe out nonsense, calling out to Jotaro, though it’s indistinguishable. Jotaro grinds his cock against your coccyx every time Star Platinum lowers you against him; if he weren’t so close to your ear you wouldn’t hear his moaning.

The noises you choke from your throat make Jotaro’s cock twitch, and in a mirrored fashion so does Star Platinum’s. You whine as the ridges contour to the tightness inside you.

Jotaro shares your sentiments, the feeling of your pussy warming his cock through Star Platinum. He wants to be closer, he needs to be closer. He releases your ear with a grunt, his tongue lingering on your skin as Star Platinum quickens his pace.

You grip the nape of Star Platinum’s hair, slippery and lenient. You can’t catch your breath before you feel something else pressing into you, jutting against Star Platinum’s cock.

“W-what…” you mutter, looking back towards Jotaro with heavy lids.

“Shut up,” he repeats, taking your hair into his fist again. You fight the way he cranes your neck backwards, giving him plenty of leverage as he pushes his cock into the already-stretched opening that Star Platinum currently occupies.

You cry out, cursing Jotaro’s name as you ignore his command. Jotaro makes room for himself, working with Star Platinum to push inside you without remorse. Your eyes roll as you clench your jaw with the pressure, squeezing Star Platinum’s hips with your legs.

Oh, God…

You thud your forehead against Star Platinum’s muscle after Jotaro finally releases your scalp, your hair falling to frame your face. Jotaro is too captivated by the tightness around him to do much about it, though. You deal with the overwhelming stimulation by losing yourself to your thoughts. You consider Jotaro’s motives for doing this to you, for antagonizing your limits only to bring you back down to reality with kindness. Why would he keep your face free from the obstruction of your hair and kiss you? You figure he has some semblance of control over Star Platinum; if he does, why is he so gentle? Why are his touches so soft and his thrusts so merciful? Well, aside from the way he stomped your shoulder into the ground.

You’ve run out of time to ponder, Jotaro grinding the finality of his length into you. You whimper and hiss, broken up by air catching in your throat. This shouldn’t be happening, this shouldn’t even be possible, yet here you are, swallowing back spit as Jotaro situates himself comfortably.

“Fuck you…” you utter with what strength you have left, your eyes burning with tears that bud at the corners. You’re not sure what you’re cursing him for more: the invasion of your body, or giving you a pleasure that you’d never thought you’d need so desperately.

Jotaro responds by dragging his hips back, the friction piercing your gut. Your voice rumbles deep in your chest, the sensations overtaking you without hesitation. It’s too much to handle, the remnants of your orgasm creeping through your nerves like a spirit, hollowing your mind. Your cries soothe into breathy groans, only to be piqued once again by Star Platinum’s sudden thrusting. Their combined girths, moving in tandem, rub against spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had. You’ve been learning new things about Jotaro with every moment you’ve spent together, it’s only fitting that you learn something about yourself along the way.

You learn something else as you fight the urge to sink yourself deeper onto them, rolling your hips with their movements. Your sporadic breaths aren’t enough to relieve the lightheadedness that clouds your judgement, lust and primality taking over.

You look up at Star Platinum whose gaze shifts from your body to meet your own, his face indomitable and angular. Through panting breaths and grimaces, you manage a weak smile, lips parted. Jotaro takes some of your weight from Star Platinum as he raises a finger to swipe a stray tear from your cheek, the gesture humbling you. You smile wider, bracing yourself for the heads of their cocks that beat into you over and over again.

You tilt your chin to raise your lips towards his, tongue lolling against the inside of your lower lip. Star Platinum, in his cosmic grace and beauty, sees you with Jotaro’s vision and admiration. Somewhere along the way, Jotaro stopped hating the sight of your face, especially as you beg for contact. You were so different than the hoards of groupies that heckle him for his attention. Taking you was a victory as opposed to a favor; making you beg was a prize as opposed to a nuisance.

The adoration is short-lived. Jotaro’s hat falls wayside on your head before tumbling to the ground. Jotaro watches with a heated scowl as the dirt sullies it, scuffing the golden adornments.

“Fucking bitch…” he growls into your ear, the earthiness to his voice shaking your already crackling core. Jotaro pounds into you, Star Platinum working in tandem to devastate what you thought were your limits. Pleasure scours its way through your gut, piercing the back of your throat as it crescendos.

Jotaro grabs the back of your hair, using it as leverage. You whine into the air, your jaw forced agape as he bends your neck back towards him. Sweat drips from your hairline, coursing down your face with the exertion. Star Platinum takes your jaw into his grip again, fingering your tongue. You sense his devilish nature creeping into the way he pumps into you. You couldn’t handle any more teasing, desperately needing to finish.

“Don’t fucking… stop,” you command, though Jotaro grins as you clearly beg.

Thankfully, he doesn’t tease you like before as you grind your molars into Star Platinum’s fingers and release yourself to orgasm. They fight your tightness, grinding into you relentlessly, your garbled murmurings giving them a final bout of endurance. Your skin is on fire, hardly soothed by the sweat that dots it. Jotaro releases your hair to grab your hips, his breathing quickening with impending exhaustion and his own release.

You huff an incredulous giggle as you hold on for what feels like your life. You can’t think about much else, overwhelmed by the noises you hear creep from Star Platinum’s previously silent presence. A low, rumbling groan thunders against your chest, too absorbed by your own selfish preoccupations to see the anticipatory furrow of his brow. Jotaro holds his breath, the combined sensations capturing all of his attention.

Neither of them bothers to warn you before they release themselves, their cum spurting into you in waves. Your eyes widen at the hot stickiness that fills you, leaking around the point where your bodies meet with nowhere else to go. You feel it pour from you with their intermittent, chaotic thrusting. You suck on Star Platinum’s fingers, feeling your insides stretch even more to accommodate their volumes, only to relax as it drips from you with relief. Jotaro huffs into your hair, hunched over to claim you deeply and thoroughly. The musk of your sexes hovers around you like fog, primal and feral.

Their pumps become increasingly sparse, milking themselves of every last drop. Jotaro and you catch your breaths at different paces, the realization of the absurdity of this situation washing over the both of you gradually. Star Platinum returns his fingers to your hips, his thumbs rubbing little circles into the plushness there.

The compassion he shows soothes you for only a moment before you’re released, sent to the ground like a crumpled tissue. You hiss as your scuffed knees mix with dirt, falling back onto the side of your hip as your arms brace your weight. Jotaro looms down at you, watching whiteness bubble onto the ground from between your legs. Precious oxygen fights with your adrenaline to calm you, exhaustion burning behind your eyes.

You’re too tired to come up with a quip for Jotaro’s harsh treatment of you, your knees aching almost as much as your insides. You let your eyes close, darkening the brightness of the late afternoon sun.

The sticky, softened head of Jotaro’s cock juts against your lips. Lazy lids open to make way for the sight of his cum-slicked length, asking entrance unforgivingly.

“Clean it,” Jotaro murmurs, holding the base to angle his cock better. You look up at him expecting a punchline, huffing through parted lips, only to meet his blush-sheathed expression that tells you there is no joke.

You start to say “fuck off”, but you’re interrupted by his tip prying between your lips. You wince at the taste of your combined fluids, his cum bittersweet and earthy. Your tongue rolls over his softening hardness, doing as you’re asked reluctantly. His breathy moan encourages you, though, as you contemplate spitting the juices that collect in your mouth back at him.

You take him deeper into your mouth, swallowing the evidence of your fucking with a grimace. Jotaro hums deeply, the peristalsis of your throat almost too much for his post-orgasm sensitivity.

You release his cock from your lips with a hollow pop, licking your lips to clear remnants of cum. Just when you think you’ve finally been enough for him, Star Platinum appears before you. His softening length is equally as intimidating as the last time it slid between your lips. Luckily, he’s merciful as your tongue works to gather the mess into your throat. You sigh with your nose, his palm rising to gingerly cradle the back of your head.

Jotaro’s thumb hooks the side of your cheek, stretching your lips to expose the rows of your teeth. He fills the newfound space with his cock back into your mouth, their softening lengths manageable together as your tongue slips between them.

You reach between your legs, cum pooling in your cupped fingers. The heat and stickiness of it would sicken you if you weren’t so impressed, Jotaro’s ability to put you into your place as equally disgusting as it is exciting. You figure-eight your tongue around their heads, lapping at what remains of your combined cum.

They pull away from you slowly, their cocks dragging against your chin. Your face twists as Star Platinum ushers your mouth onto Jotaro’s balls, the coarse hair combining with slickness that you work to clear from the base of his cock and below. Air huffs from your nose as you take one of his balls into your mouth. Jotaro grunts after you’ve made good work of them. Finally, Star Platinum releases your head with a toss of his hand, taking a moment to brush disheveled hair from your sweat-slicked face. You smile, lips shiny with spit and cum, finally able to take a full breath and look up at the hazy-eyed pair.

You fall back onto your calves, ignoring the pain in your knees and the gushing from between your legs. You pay more attention to Jotaro who offers you a look you’ve never seen before on his face. It’s relief; he’s regained his composure and authority over you after you took it from him. The power goes to his head, back on top after being kicked so low. He tucks himself back into his slacks and secures his belt into place with a clamoring of the metal and a tug of the leather.

You hate that he’s won almost as much as you hate admitting defeat. In a final act of defiance, you grab the hem of Jotaro’s jacket with trembling fingers. He can only watch as you swipe the fabric of it against your cum-covered fingers and then between your legs, cleaning yourself as well as you did Jotaro and Star Platinum. Jotaro musters a scowl through his exhaustion, your antagonistic expression taking a bit away from his victory.

He rolls his eyes, suppressing the urge to kick you while you’re down. Instead, just a second after you drop his jacket, Star Platinum hauls you onto your feet roughly from under your arms. Your legs wobble and ache, kept in one position for too long, your blood pressure dropping with the sudden change in position. Jotaro yanks you by the sleeve of your shirt towards him, almost sending you toppling back onto the ground.

You’d have surely fallen if not for Jotaro’s supportive embrace around your shoulder, holding you close to him. You swallow, clearing your throat of the taste of cum and spit, taking the chain that dangles close to your face into your hand.

Star Platinum picks up and dusts off Jotaro’s hat before placing it back onto his head, obfuscating his avoidant expression. You rest your head into the strength of his shoulder, taking a moment to collect yourself and assess Star Platinum who watches you carefully, as if he’s waiting for an attack at any moment.

Instead of spitting or slapping, you grin lazily. It grows when Star Platinum returns the expression, his lips molding around the angles of his features. Jotaro focuses on the horizon to your right, watching for movement and headlights as dusk begins to cast an auburn haze around you. You expect Jotaro to do something, to say something, but he remains ardently focused on anything but you. He seems just as lost as to what to do now as you do.

You fill the silence the only way you know how.

“Didn’t even buy me dinner first,” you banter, your voice wavering with exertion and a failed attempt at humor.

Jotaro scoffs, hiding his eyes in the shadow of his hat. He’s incensed, his hat dirtied and his jacket stickied. Through it, though, Star Platinum brings together what’s left of the buttons of your shirt and smooths your skirt against your legs before bending over to slide the hem of your thigh-high back into place. You conveniently ignore the cum that pools there, soaking into the fabric.

“He’s so sweet. How are you such a dick?” you sneer, watching Star Platinum’s eyes glisten with the compliment. You offer him a tousle of his hair, rubbing your palm into his head in gratitude.

“Shut up, bitch,” Jotaro gripes, digging his fingers into your shoulder. You see right through him, his attitude almost as transparent as yours.

You jerk his chain, jostling him closer to your face. He curls his lip as you peck his cheek, though he doesn’t weaken his hold on you.

“Forget my address,” Jotaro grumbles.

Your expression falls, knowing he was tossing you aside just as easily as he did after finishing inside of you. You’re not sure what else you expected from him; you’re even less understanding of your own motives. All you know is that in that moment, you don’t want him to let you go. You can’t let him win any more than he already has, including casting you aside as if you were nothing. You open your mouth to protest, but for once, you’ve been knocked speechless.

“Unless,” he continues quietly, “you’re coming back for more.”

You jab Jotaro’s side with your knuckles. He finally meets your gaze amicably, the lack of antagonization warming his features. You suppress the urge to wipe the smile off of his face, accepting your forced forfeiture reluctantly.

If this was losing, you wonder what winning would be like.

Tags:

              Explicit Sexual Content

Teasing

Sexual Tension

Creampie

Double Penetration in One Hole

Double Vaginal Penetration

Double Oral Penetration

Overstimulation

Multiple Sex Positions

Dominance

Power Dynamics

Threesome - F/M/M

Public Humiliation

Manhandling

Restraints

Spit Kink

Blow Jobs

Mild Painplay

Vaginal Fingering

Breasts

Nipple Play

Snark

Banter

Orgasm Delay/Denial

Multiple Orgasms

Begging

Boundaries

Come Shot

Outdoor Sex

request fic

Submission

Standcest (JoJo)

Rough Sex

Rough Body Play

[maserati-yokota]

AJW We Are Running Thru Korakuen Hall 5/26/91 Commercial Tape

This one has links! So you know I'm not making this shit up!

Suzuka Minami & Takako Inoue & Cynthia Moreno vs. Bison Kimura & Mika Takahashi & Miori Kamiya part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mb9L6-ybHoc part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7Ok-L8g3Jc Kamiya gets to work tossing Suzuka around before getting piledriven into pudding. Moreno tags in and man it's a shame she was perpetually disrespected by this company. Moreno was a treasure, you rubes. Bison is in full beast mode and she doesn't even have the leopard-print yet! Takako is young and gets stretched a lot. Whatever happened to Kamiya you say? She's Cooga, ya dingus; the dullest part of any late-90s card. Takahashi gets tagged in, puts Takako in an upside down double-underhook STFU WITH A BRIDGE and goes back to her corner so Bison can dropkick some more. The 70s Miles Davis solo of tag-ins. Incredible. Suzuka does a gorgeous vertical suplex to signal to all of us watching that though this is a heatless spotfest, the spots are in season. So dig in. Suzuka's dropkicks are so snappy it's a wonder she didn't get CTE from them. Kamiya must've just been spent by the Cooga era because she busts out tons of fun stuff here. Youth is young on the wasted. Bison, sensing the lack of Classic Tag Match Heat, throws Moreno into the bleachers. Good on her. Takako wants revenge but eats a Bison Chop. This is an interesting era for a spotfest--ie the pre-CTE era--despite it still being built off of the video-gamey idea of "strong attacks wear down more HP". Everybody busts out the weirdest shit they can come up with in the hope something--anything--will do it. But I shouldn't complain much. This is heavy on action, light on pointless near-falls, the screwups are minor, and there are some really fun and odd spots I haven't seen before. And Kaoru Ito is there to moisturize the losers!

Toshiyo Yamada vs. Yumiko Hotta part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfHqj7TdoTY part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtYiI8pb5hQ Q: And kicks?

A: And kicks.

Yamada is as spry and bland as ever and Hotta is still pretending she isn't a violence pervert. But the crowd knows The Truth so Hotta gets 1000000 streamers. Yamada, mad at her comparative lack of streamers, comes out swinging, only to get swung. Hotta brings the UWF realism but Yamada is convinced the puroresu will WIN. One thing they can both agree on is KICKS. The first notable one busts Yamada's nose and we are off to the races--which is to say, we are witnessing the suffering of women who work for men and therefore are never encouraged to have healthily competitive relationships with their peers. Healthy competition comes from camaraderie and a sense of community. Bull Nakano spoke in interviews about how brutalized and casually despised she was by the other wrestlers when she started. The Crush Gals  fucking hate each other irl. Aja Kong was made into a monster heel literally because she was biracial. These things and this match dynamic (hardway blood in basically a TV taping) are all symptoms of the same disorder: misogyny and the market sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Yeah, there's a ton of great work and powerful drama in this era, but how much of it was the inadvertent by-product of an unhealthy working environment? We'll never really know, since there was practically no other game in town--and what game there was (LLPW and JWP) was so consumed by the battle for market dominance, they could only mimic this model. AJW begat Rossy Ogawa which begat Arsion’s weirdly disjointed breed of misogyny which begat Stardom. “Send the girls out there and make them murder each other for the love of the fans! And fuck it! They're somehow also responsible for shilling all their merch, too, just to survive! And they’re little a nude sometimes! As a treat!” This match is pretty fun, don't get me wrong. But it's sometimes hard to distinguish a legitimately competitive match from all of what I just described. Did Hotta bust Yamada's nose cuz she was pissed about jobbing and there was no other outlet in the context of the company to properly express that frustration? Was that frustration even really directed at Yamada? Or was this more of a "Yoshiko shoot"-type situation, in which a wrestler makes a public display of frustration? Hotta turns the shoot into a work for good measure by attacking Yamada post-match. 1991 was 4000 years ago.

Aja Kong vs. Manami Toyota part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI746sByB-g part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnKy0Kp5_MU part 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5gdv67lFa5M Two of the most compelling figures this era produced--both of whom took the weird and bigoted roles they were given and turned them into powerful characters that transcended that small-mindedness. Aja set out to be a fan favorite despite the booking and it fucking worked. Manami didn't want to just be a pretty baby-face; she wanted depth and conflict. She also trained Tsukasa Fujimoto and Tsukushi, who carry on her legacy of being weirdos with pin-straight hair who love punishment. Aja still sells at this point and Manami is such a string-bean it looks like her boots are weighing her down. Apart from that contextual novelty, this is pretty classic Kong/Toyota. Toyota gets tied in more knots than those catalogued in Moby Dick; eats every kick ever and even takes a headbutt to the lower back. But contrary to their later body of work, Toyota's hope spots don't pop the crowd as much since they're not yet sure she's capbable of fighting from underneath. They like it when she fires up, but they don't yet believe in it. In defense of Aja and Toyota, their work is just as compelling as in 93, 94 or 95, the bookers just didn't believe it yet. It would take the hair vs hair match and Aja's teary performance at the end of Big Egg to convince them of what everyone else on earth already knew. It's as thankless to be out-of-step with the times as it is to be ahead of the times. If you haven't seen this and you're familiar with their higher profile matches, you should. It's more than just a curiosity or a template for later and "greater" things; it's a sign they already knew who they were and how prepared they were to transcend management's expectations. Wild finish and a moving post-match moment, too.

Akira Hokuto & Sakie Hasegawa vs. Bull Nakano & Bat Yoshinaga (2/3 Falls Match) part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=En6sdmXeMAY part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQ2crxtgZhY Hokuto's legacy is equally massive but differently complex. Hokuto was never really given an explicit role other than asshole. An early injury earned her a reputation with fans as a wrestler who refused to lie down--despite the fact that breaking her neck and refusing to abandon the match was probably due more to how toxic the work environment was in AJW. Can't blame her, or really anybody under these circumstances. Christ, they all started training when they were barely teenagers; what other reality did they know? But because she was picked by the fans long before management knew what to do with her, she had a far different arc. In the ring, she worked from underneath, but as an asshole. Imagine if Muta was somehow Cactus Jack: a being who existed outside the bounds of normal human morality but also took such a colossal beating it made you feel bad for them. Only a tremendously charismatic, well-drawn performance could carry that off. Hokuto is so hard-headed in every sense it's impossible not to root for her; she refuses to know her own limits and, subsequently, refuses to acknowledge the limits of any of her opponents. Anyhow, AJW was hoping Bat Yoshinaga would be Lil Bull, even though that never panned out. Sakie is comically timid in the pre-match promo and Hokuto seems doubtful but down to clown as usual. Bull comes out in a feathery gown only to reveal a tattered tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt to let everyone know she a) likes to party and b) is ready for a call from Vince whenevs. Hokuto is fully on her Maeda shit: aloof yet nervy. She's still in her Marine Wolves colors, too. A woman without a country. Sakie looks literally terrified about what she knows is coming. Ten seconds after the bell, Bull clotheslines them both and powerbombs Sakie for the first fall. THAT'S how Bull do. Hokuto is having none of it and top-rope dropkicks Bat's clavicle into a billion pieces for the second fall. THAT'S how Hokuto do. Now it's Bull vs Hokuto, what the crowd was thirsty for. Hokuto gets thrown over the ropes onto the bare floor but rallies and comes back with a suplex and the same dropkick she gave Bat--proving her contempt for Bull. Double underhook driver for good measure, but Bull gonna Bull. Sakie gets a huge pop on the hot tag despite being the obvious Kikuchi in this setting. Bat kicks and stretches Sakie back into her place. In some ways its hard to tell if Sakie's time in AJW is compelling because she is obviously better than how she was booked or compelling on its own merits--and due to her repeated injuries and transition to trainer we'll never know. But either way, Sakie whips. Hokuto helps her get some good licks in on Bull to drive home that despite her crankiness she believes in this young upstart after all. Sakie capitalizes on this heat by delivering a gorgeous flying headbutt to Bat, following by a pair of god-tier heel-kicks. The crowd is SHRIEKING. Bull senses Bat is gonna whiff it, so bum-rushes Sakie to get Hokuto to tag in. Hokuto is rewarded with a German suplex to the base of her skull and a double-team. A few dozen harrowing exchanges later, Hokuto is back on top and Sakie is ready to die for her. Unfortunately, the moment Bull comes off the top rope with a legdrop, we all know the credits gonna roll. Bull leads the crowd in chanting "Bat-o, Bat-o, Bat-o" and it's a shame that never got legs. Bull feels bad about how things ended, so gives them another chance at a fall. Sakie and Bat slap each other instead of kissing.

Weird but fun card full of all your faves before their prime. Have at it!

Wait . Hang on. Plum Mariko vs Chigusa Nagayo (JWP, 2/11/94) is tacked onto this tape! Fuck YES. Lorefice: the beef been squashed. THANK YOU. (jk jk you're still a bigot)

Watch it here, with glorious pre-match training footage cut from the commercial tape: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQLWwEHP4FQ Plum comes out HOT and bloodies Chigusa early. Never seen Plum this vampiric and fired tf up. Chigusa is having none of it and Hulks out because she's deeply cynical about joshi audiences at this point in her career. She also doesn't mind getting blood in her eyes because, of course, she is still Chigusa Nagayo~! (*DVDVR shout-out interrobang) I've talked a ton already about how much Plum rules and how wistful I get seeing any of her matches. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable saying "the business killed her" so instead I'll say "the business let her die." (The business has let many die but few so blatantly.) Chigusa has yet to enter her dom stage so instead inhabits a kind of quasi-Dynamite Kansai persona appropriate to JWP. She kicks less often but smushes necks just the same. She also is 1000x better on the mat. The announcer mentions, in English (?!) this is a full house at Koruken Hall. Chigusa hits pause to talk shit and Plum is OUTRAGED. Chigusa is also rocking a tan that says "yeah, I took some time off to chill tf out, what of it?" Plum thinks she can restart the match with a respectable test of strength (this is Chigusa, she of fightingo-spiritu, after all) only to get immediately clowned by The New Chigusa. The Post-Crush Gal. Plum says "oh fuck that" and throws on the Stretch Plum and DDTs Chigusa thru the earth's mantle. Chigusa is takes a breather outside then demands Plum give her enough room to get back in the ring, thus going full southern heel. Plum caaaan't quiiiite sink in the Stretch so does a quick German for good measure. Chigusa fights from beneath but gets shut down QUICK. Weird that this legitimately feels like anyone's game, given Chigusa's legendary status. Chigusa sets the record straight by soccer kicking Plum's head into the Mir space station (topical). The crowd now hates her. Plum squishes her back to the mat where she feels safe and torques Chigusa's legs until she looks like Brian Yuzna's seminal critique of capitalism, Society. Despite the contortions, Chigusa chinlocks her way to a victory we all kinda knew was coming.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Three Identical Strangers

I’m not a big documentary gal. I guess I’ve always been drawn to fiction because the world is big and scary and I like knowing I can escape from it. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun to enjoy more things of the “truth is stranger than fiction” variety, probably because my country is a literal game show now and we’re all losers. As soon as I saw the trailer for this documentary, I was hooked. Three Identical Strangers is the story of Robert Shafran, Eddy Galland, and David Kellman - three identical triplets born in 1961 who were separated at birth and raised by three different families and were reunited by chance when they were 19. That story is wild enough as it is; it’s a heartwarming and offbeat human interest story with a feel-good ending. But the purpose of the documentary is to dig further into the story, to figure out why these triplets were separated at birth in the first place. And that’s where shit gets wild. How wild? Well...

The brothers were separated at the discretion of the adoption agency their respective parents used, Louise Wise, a Jewish adoption agency in New York. They claimed no family would want to take three babies at one time, so they split them up to ease placement. Which, like, early 60s ideas about children and child development, ok I can see that. I just assume every decision made in 1961 was to get you closer to a martini and a cigarette. This first section of the film in which the brothers reunite and the mystery of their separation is first addressed is non-stop action. One revelation after another, it leaves you almost giddy at the joy we see in archival footage of all three boys, 19 years old, deliriously happy and with the world at their fingertips. You’re so bowled over by the joy, it’s hard to focus on “well, why did this happen, though?” Filmmaker Tim Wardle does an excellent job of leading us, bit by bit, into darker, more disturbing territory, though. As their tale progresses, an extreme debate of nature vs. nurture emerges, with horrific consequences. By the end of the film, the full scope of what happened to the triplets emerges, and it’s so shockingly, desperately sad that it’s hard to remember that reckless joy from the first 30 minutes of the film. It’s a deft piece of documentary filmmaking from Wardle, and my biggest hope is that it brings the brothers some catharsis and peace after all they went through.

Some thoughts:

The thing I most appreciated about this as a documentary was its clear vision for how to carefully lay out this absolutely bonkers, larger-than-life story. Too many documentaries are meandering affairs, or start as one thing but turn into another along the way without adequate care. Wardle does an excellent job laying out breadcrumbs, developing themes, and letting the story breathe. Really, really well done.

All of the archival footage of the triplets - and there’s a lot - is such a joy to watch, but the home movies of Eddy in particular feel like even more of a treasure. Getting to see the boys outside of the spotlight but still living their lives together gives a better sense of perspective of how much they lost by being apart for 19 years.

The triplets also have a brief cameo in Desperately Seeking Susan, which I have never seen but now must rent immediately just for the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

In spite of the dark territory it wades into, the movie is surprisingly funny. David especially is a loud, boisterous storyteller, and his anecdotes provide some of the biggest laughs.

For some of the early events, Wardle creates these sort of faceless reenactments - people dressed in c. 1980 clothing but we can only see the backs of their heads as they walk through the college campus where Bobby went to school and was confused for Eddy. We get to live that experience as Bobby, and follow him as he goes to meet Eddy for the first time, but you never see the reenactor’s face. It’s a neat trick - many of the documentaries I’ve seen recently use animation to portray these kinds of early memories, but I liked the visceral immediacy of this tactic. There’s not a flawless way to pull off this particular challenge in any documentary, I don’t think, but this came the closest for me. 

I would have paid so much money to go to the NYC restaurant the brothers opened, called Triplets. 

This is without a doubt the most compelling documentary I’ve seen this year, and maybe in my life (keep in mind, I don’t watch a ton of them, so y’know, grain of salt). The story of these brothers will stay with me for a long time, and I hope that this film will give them a version of peace that their lives have been missing for some time.

[makeste]

self-promote as if I were to die

Hey guys, so I’m going to do something I don’t think I've ever done this blatantly on this blog, which is to shamelessly self-promote my own fanfics. And the reason I am doing so is because I have actually written a new fic (see the bottom of this post for more details), for the first time since 2010 (I'm not counting the crack stuff in this case). And I am very excited, but also nervous, because after eight years of inactivity, I’m basically diving into an entirely different fandom landscape. And I think I am currently “known” (so to speak) mostly for my recaps and crackfics, as opposed to a bunch of character studies and angst pieces I wrote like ten fucking years ago lol.

So! These are my fanfic archives:

Archive of our Own

Fanfiction.Net

Livejournal

Themes I tend to write about (and some recs):

Character Studies: When I first started writing KHR stuff, I did a bunch of these. This was back before I had the attention span and confidence to try writing longer fics, but I think these are still pretty good.

Rec:

Dieci Anni - introspective piece on Gokudera and the contrasts between his 14 and 24-year-old selves

Gen: SO MUCH GEN. I love friendship. I mean, like romance too, but I just don’t write much of it.

Rec:

Invincible - 8059 car chase in Italy, because it’s the mafia and you gotta have a car chase at some point damn it

8059 Gen: Yeah I’ve written enough of this that it probably warrants calling it out as a specific genre fave of mine. I will take 8059 friendship in any and all forms. Friendship, fluff, rivals, brothers in arms, partners in crime, shoulders to cry on; you name it and I’ve probably written it.

Rec:

Indeterminism - um. This one is a bit harder to describe. It’s Yamamoto first-person POV, and the premise is that he’s somehow died?? Apparently?? but somehow Gokudera can see and talk to his “ghost” self, and then after a bit they get it into their heads to try and go back in time to stop Yamamoto from ever dying to begin with, and things get really kooky from there because time travel physics yep yep. This is currently my favorite thing that I’ve written up til now.

Angst: For the most part nothing too extreme, but I really dig characters having minor emotional crises and being bailed out by their loyal friends (and/or pragmatic but secretly loving infant tutors).

Rec:

Please Give the Name of the Person Who Referred You - this takes place immediately post-Future Arc and features Tsuna freaking out because he killed someone (Byakuran! Yeah, this was before he inexplicably returned) for the first time ever

First Kills: Another specific genre for you. I’ve written three of these, one for each of the main trio. Idk. They’re in the mob and sometimes I just want them to act like it (but then freak out and wrestle with their emotions after).

Rec:

The Test - and here we have Yamamoto’s first kill, during which he freaks out about how much he is not freaked out, because lol natural born hitman and all that

Being Mean to Yamamoto: The most specific genre of all. I don’t know why I’m so compelled to fuck around with this kid all the time. Probably because he’s so naturally angst-resistant that I just can’t help but want to throw terrible situations at him just to see how he would react if shit ever really hit the fan.

Rec:

Down the Stairs - this is an alternate-timeline fic in which Yamamoto’s dad was killed by the Ninth’s son Enrico, resulting in Yamamoto siding against Tsuna and Gokudera in the resulting Vongola civil war. I will also tell you right now that this features a major character death so if that’s an immediate ‘no’ from anyone I completely understand

Lastly, here’s a barefaced plug for my soon-to-be-posted new fic, because I’ve had this idea in my head for more than six years, and I’ve finally managed to get it all on paper, and it's very, very long, and I put a lot of love and thought and planning into it so fuck modesty. I am a strong, independent woman who... uh...

...SO YEAH, I WROTE A NEW FIC, AND IT FEATURES:

805927 Gen - That's right, all three of these losers. The last two canon arcs did not focus on this trio much, due to having too many additional characters to keep track of, so you can be damn sure I aimed to do otherwise, because I love them.

Post-Series Plot - One of the good things about KHR having ended (sob why does the wound still feel fresh) is that I can take the story in any direction I want to from here and not have to worry about canon trying to undo all of my hard work for once. So this takes place about three months after the end of the series. There are new bad guys and a new threat which is more personal than in previous canon arcs.

Italy - This takes place in motherfucking Italy

Headcanon - Ohhhh man. Okay so have you ever had a headcanon so powerful that you couldn’t escape it and it just grew and grew and eventually became canon!canon to you, but it was also so fucking convoluted that you felt like you couldn’t ever explain it to someone else without writing a 50k word fic about it so you could show how it all would make sense? I’m sure that’s a problem everyone has had. Anyway yeah so this features my giant headcanon which I’ve held secret and safe for more than half a decade but am now finally presenting to the world for approval and/or sound rejection.

Gokudera’s Past - Oh right, and the headcanon is all about Gokudera’s past

27 Character Development - So I also have some thoughts on Tsuna and his steadfast refusal to accept the title of Vongola X even after everything he’s been through, and what it might take for him to begin to change his mind. And this is another thing that I for some reason found easier to explain via a novel-length story rather than just writing meta like normal people. So yeah.

5927 (Friendship) - For ten fucking years I’ve insisted to people that while I endgame 8059, I also totally support 5927. And then I’ve proceeded to write nothing but 8059 content. The problem is that I’ve always thought there was some development missing between Tsuna and Gokudera that was needed in order to truly make it work. But to make that development happen, I needed a massive, angsty plot to act as the impetus. So that’s literally the only reason why I’ve never written 5927 before, but now it is finally happening so strap in. (Though I should repeat that in terms of story this development is strictly gen, like every other damn thing I write.)

A Yamamoto Fight - Oh you bet

Angst - Of fucking course

So! I will be posting part one of that tomorrow. Ha ha ha I hope there is some interest, but if not at least I finally got it out of my brain and it feels fucking good.

ETA: Here's the link to part 1 of Blood of the Covenant over on Archive of our Own: Link.

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Drunken Mess

Okay, thank you to the anon who messaged this because I fell in love with the idea instantly lol. I am not ashamed to admit I have totally envisioned this happening, prior to the prompt.

Masterlist – Plot: Ned convinces Peter and MJ to go to a party, only for things to get a little heated whilst they’re intoxicated.

Drunken Mess (One-Shot)

Shit had truly hit the fan tonight.

It had started with Ned picking on his two friends, telling them how loser-ish they were being for staying in on a Friday night. With MJ in an oversized t-shirt, her lengthy legs stretched out across a pooped Peter Parker, Ned knew how this night was going to go. They’d sit there and watch a movie and Peter and Ned would stare at MJ perplexed as she’d spew unexpected knowledge at the most random of scenes. “Did you know that the charcoal drawing of Rose’s boobs in Titanic were actually drawn by James Cameron?” And strangely enough, MJ’s know-it-all self would seemingly turn Peter on and before Ned knew it, they were making out. One minute, Ned was talking about how Jack and Rose could have both realistically survived the Titanic’s shipwreck and the next, MJ was on Peter’s lap, her mouth latched feverishly onto his.

Ned wasn’t up for that today.

Flash Thompson was known for his notorious parties and Ned didn’t plan on missing the next one. But with only two friends to call his own, he was on a mission to convince both MJ and Peter to come with him.

“Come on, guys!” The three were munching away at a pie that they’d picked up on their way home from school. “Are you really telling me you guys would much rather stay in and wait for May to come back from her date than go to a party?” Peter inwardly cringed, forgetting that today was the day that his Aunt was going on her third, or was it forth, date with the douchebag from work. Despite May not being his biological mother, Peter treated her like one and he wasn’t the biggest fan of the guy who openly gawked at his Aunt’s ass in front of him. It was damn right disrespectful, and Peter wasn’t too keen on waiting around to see whether May’s date decided to stay the night or not.

“Maybe we should go.” Peter suddenly jumped up and MJ groaned in response. With her parents at work and her brother at some stupid frat party, she was compelled to do whatever Peter and Ned wanted to … her only other alternative being an early night in. And as much as she was an introvert, even she knew a bedtime of nine on a Friday night was lame.

“Fine. I’m not dressing up for this thing though.” MJ huffed, wiping her slightly greasy hands down her cargo pants, staining the material in the process. It was then that she noticed her mistake. It was getting late and she didn’t have time to go home to get changed and then make it back to the suburbs at a decent enough time. It was either go looking slob or …

“I’m sure May won’t mind if you borrowed something.” After Peter’s rather helpful (not) suggestion, May was more than eager to get the teenager into her wardrobe. May was going out for drinks later so she had a few hours to spare before she was scheduled to leave; a time which she spent throwing outfits at an overwhelmed MJ. Secretly, May was enjoying this. First with Ben and now with Peter, she hadn’t really had a chance to have some down time with a girl and it was nice having another female around. But with May’s petite figure, everything she threw at MJ was unhealthily short, or tight - two things MJ’s wardrobe most definitely did not consist of.

“Okay, okay … this isn’t going to work.” May flopped onto her vanity chair, her eyes staring intently at MJ before a figurative light bulb went off above her head. “I have an idea.” May was rushing out her room, only to return moments later with an oversized jumper in hand; it was Peter’s. “Put this on.”

It turns out May had a knack for styling Michelle in a way that was both what Western culture would deem cute and yet still very her. The oversized jumper sat like a dress; in a juxtaposing manner it enhanced her frame and yet did not stick to every inch of her skin. The dark navy like colour was something that MJ loved, and she loved it even more so knowing that she could match it with the blue sneakers that she’d gone to school in. “Peter won’t be able to keep his hands off you today.” May winked and MJ found herself blushing furiously, her curls falling in front of her face to hide the redness.

Because it was true, when Peter had spotted MJ, he’d been lost for words. He’d seen her naked, of course, she was his girlfriend and boy, did he consider himself lucky. Her body was a temple; something he’d worship every movement of every day if he could. But, this was the first time he’d ever seen her body look so sexy in clothes, in his clothes. Every time he glanced at her, he found his insides heating up; the need to touch her, even just for a second, more prevalent than ever. On the subway, as they walked the streets, as they sipped at tasteless drinks at the party; Peter was one hundred per cent smitten. And as the alcohol slowly penetrated MJ’s system, she was all over him.

Peter being Spidey-Peter, had more than his share of spiked punch before he truly felt the intoxicated impact. His eyes glazed over and it was like he had tunnel vision, his eyes zoning in on MJ’s lips. May hadn’t wanted to put MJ out of her comfort zone and had therefore steered clear of any makeup but, suddenly, MJ’s lips were a bright pink – inviting and sultry.

“Come here.” Peter tugged at her arm, not caring that she was pushing past people forcefully in the process. Some cursed at her but she couldn’t care less. Her lip subconsciously curled under her teeth as she looked at Peter stood there in his full glory; those toned arms, that sculpted chest, that cute face, those curls! A tipsy MJ stumbled over her feet, only for Peter to catch her, his arm encircling her slim waist.

Once she was close enough, Peter was attacking her lips. The movement was messy and sloppy, and it was seemingly the only way to describe Peter and MJ’s night. He had her against the wall at one point, caging her body in tightly against his own. His hands were gripping her perky ass, his lips grazing her neck. She was scratching onto his muscles, desperate to cling to him wherever and whenever she could. Before they knew, they had miraculously made it to a couch, MJ straddling his lap, her’s (or Peter’s) jumper hiked dangerously high up her hips. In the meantime, the attack on each other’s lips was feverish. MJ wanted to explore him further, pushing her tongue forcefully into his more than willing mouth. As soon as tongue contact was made, a simultaneous moan was expressed from them both, and MJ couldn’t help but let the lower part of her body roll against Peter’s now raging hard-on.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Ned mumbled against his lips. He had gone to the bathroom during this time period. That was it, the three minutes and forty seconds that he had been away, had been all it had taken for an intoxicated Peter and MJ to be dry humping on the couch. It was like they were in a world of their own, not caring that half of their class was watching them get it on. Ned was certain he’d even seen Flash whip out a camera, some crude comment about MJ’s legs slipping from his lips. “Guys, guys!” Ned tried to distract them in hopes that they’d tone it down a little.

“Ned,” The two pulled away from each other to give Ned the exact same response he received when they were half way through watching the Titanic and Star Wars and Casablanca. “Go home.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work please support me here. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit, your lovely comments and votes are always welcomed too : https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

[ventrue-rosary]

Stay With Me...

Better late than never! This is an extremely self-indulgent piece following an event that some roleplay was going to take place after--this is just sorta my version of what may happen or would wish to happen (but Beth don’t let this influence whatever plans for the RP you may already have! :P) because I wanted to get something out for Valentines Day for these losers, and damn if any characters needs happiness it’s these guys

Lyris is mine, Branek belongs to @that-was-fucking-spectacular​. Rated T for some mild sexiness

It had been one of the longest days in Lyris’s memory; event after event, fight after fight. And thanks to her rash actions, they were forced to break a promise to a group of lizardmen who could have been potential allies, instead chasing after old enemies in the name of stale revenge.

Now smothered in the overbearing silence, Lyris felt the sting of each small wound forgotten in the heat of battle, and the soreness setting into her overworked muscles. Everyone else had retired to one of the my guest rooms on this floor. All she could hear as she made her way across the balcony to the bathroom was the creaking of rotten floorboards and setting of the old lodge.

It took her far too long to fill the enormous stone bathtub with hot water. The size of it seemed so excessive. She wondered if the people who had founded this lodge used to bathed communally.

As Lyris unclipped her weapons and armours, she made sure to cover Hazirawn. She wasn’t even sure if the sentient sword could see but she still felt uncomfortable undressing in front of it. It merely let out a throaty chuckle slightly muffled by the travelling cloak tossed on top of it.

As Lyris lowered herself in the water she noticed the teeth marks still visible across her left shoulder, dragging her eyes down to the old scars latticing her torso. An ugly and unsightly reminder of a time when she had been too weak. She never wanted to be that weak again.

Lyris forced her eyes upright to the wall opposite, away from the scarring and remained there until the need for rest called her.

It wasn’t long before Lyris was settled into one of the empty room, stripped down to her shirt and breeches, wet hair braided to one side and her weapons and armours safely stored in the footlocker--apart from Hazirawn. She held the sword in her hands, one wrapped around the handle the other supporting the opposite end of the blade. The metal hummed silently under her touch and emitted a blueish-black hue that rolled off the blade like smoke.

‘You’re staring…’

Lyris nearly dropped it. She already knew of its sentience but it wasn’t so easy to adjust to a talking object, especially one with a surprisingly pleasant voice...deep, yet soft, gruff but with a touch of eloquence. At least when it was addressing Lyris. The sword retained a cutting snarl when it had spoke to Branek.

‘I’m sorry,’ she eventually said. ‘I am still wrapping my head around a talking sword.’

‘Well, get used to it darlin’. We are one now.’

‘Wait what do you mean?’

‘We are attuned.’

‘I...see. You know, you should really ask a girls permission first.’

‘You didn’t ask my permission before taking me into your arsenal. And I cannot attune to someone unwilling.’

‘That’s...a fair point. My apologies.’ She spoke mindlessly, more stressing over the fact she had wanted to attune to Hazirawn. There was a compelling element to the sword, one that made her uneasy, but she didn’t want to part with it, either.

‘Apology accepted. You’re lucky I like you.’

Lyris felt herself blush. Now she was feeling flustered over a fucking sword. She removed her hand to smack her forehead.

‘God I need to get laid…’ she muttered.

‘What did you just say?’

‘I need to learn the way of the blade,’ she said hastily.

‘You do. We can learn together. I can show you…’

Lyris felt a cold chill, spreading from the hand holding the sword up to her brain, slowing her thoughts, dimming the edges of the room. Blackness curled at the peripheral of her vision, until all she could see was the glowing blade…

She let the blade clatter to the ground in dread. Her vision and mind cleared, but she still felt ice-cold with terror. Hazirawn laughed a deep, throaty laugh. Lyris wrapped it in her cloak and shoved it under the bed, silencing it. And still, she wanted it. Her hands were already seeking the edge of the bed to push herself up and retrieve it...

A knock sounded on the door, pulling her from her internal struggle.

‘Yes?’ she called.

‘It’s me,’ Branek said from the other side of the door.

‘J--just a second.’ Lyris spared herself a glance in the mirror, making sure she looked less terrible than she felt. Her face looked a little pale, but one surely couldn’t tell an evil sword was fucking with her mind.

She walked to the door and opened with a small smile. Be cool...she thought to herself as she nonchalantly leaned against the doorframe. Hazirawn was already becoming a distant worry. Branek’s presence always had a way of making her feel safe.

‘May I come in?’

Lyris glanced over her shoulder to double-check Hazirawn was stowed away from sight before freeing the doorframe. ‘Of course.’

Lyris made her way over to the bed and sat on it, legs folded under her. Branek hesitantly sat next to her, as though afraid he was overstepping some sort of boundary. She folded her hands in her lap.

‘Is everything alright?’ Lyris asked after a minute of silence dragged by. He looked nervous, and wouldn’t look her in the eye for more than a few seconds. It was starting to rub off on her.

‘I’m... um...I guess?’ Branek sighed, one hand harassing the feathers on his head. ‘While the rest of you were exploring the house, I read your letter.’

‘Oh…’

‘It was um...quite a loaded letter to read. I have had time to collect my own thoughts on the subject but now I’m here…’

‘I know. I’m nervous too.’

‘I’m sorry. I know you’ve been waiting a long time. It must have hurt.’ He took her hands in his own. Lyris felt the breath catch at her throat from the contact. ‘Lyris...I love you.’

‘It’s ok, it was stupid of me to even think...wait what?’ She had to have misheard.

‘I don’t want to break your heart. That would break mine. I care about you Lyris.’ He paused. Lyris couldn’t even speak. ‘I want this. Us. I don’t care if it’s doomed to end in tragedy or disaster. I love you too much to try and hide it anymore. And I can tell from your letter you feel the same. You said as much’

Lyris was unable to find her voice, so she nodded. She didn’t realise she was crying until Branek raised a hand to wipe away a tear.

‘Why do you look so sad then?’

‘I’m not. These are tears of joy.’ She laughed through her tears. ‘I know that’s pathetic.’

‘It’s not.’ Branek cupped her face tenderly. ‘It’s adorable.’

‘So sweet of you to make up shit for me.’

He laughed. ‘Would you believe me if I said I was being honest?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Smart girl.’

After a shared laugh silence followed that might have been comfortable had Branek removed his hands and stopped staring at her. Lyris shifted on the bed, feeling awkward.

‘You’re staring,’ she said, dropping her gaze to her lap.

‘Sorry!’ he released the grasp he had on her and blinked back into the present. ‘I can’t help it. You’re radiant.’

‘R...radiant..?’ she stuttered. Her face felt warm.

‘Yes, radiant, brilliant, charming, sexy...I could go on.’

‘You think I’m sexy?’ she asked, surprised.

‘I have eyes.’ Branek cleared his throat, and his expression flipped back to serious. ‘Flattery aside, I just want to make sure you want this.’

‘You really have to ask? Subtlety has never been my strong suit. Have you forgotten the first time I flirted with you.’

‘For starters that never happened. We don’t talk of that. And I still think it’s right to ask. I don’t want their to be uncertainty between us. Not anymore.’

‘Branek... I’m yours. Faithfully, fully, and forever.’

Branek pulled her to a tight embrace. His body felt so warm. He smelled like wood smoke and cloves. She felt safe…

Lyris pulled back from his embrace. She could feel the warmth rolling from his body. As he met her gaze with an intense expression the coil of desire in her navel intensified. She felt flushed, and could hardly control her breathing.

‘Branek…’ she whispered breathlessly.

‘Yes, Lyris?’

‘Stay with me…’ her voice broke completely, silencing the “please”.

Branek didn’t say anything. He shrugged off his cloak, the rest of his clothes following. Lyris slowly began undoing the ties on her shirt. She wanted this...but she was afraid. Her scars were not ones earned through battle. They were not ones to wear with pride.

Lyris still peeled her shirt away. She heard the sharp intake of breath from Branek, and had to battle the urge to cover herself.

‘I know,’ Lyris said, one arm crossing over the peak of her breasts, the other covering as much of her stomach as possible. ‘It’s unsightly. I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want this anymore.’

‘Lyris, are you joking?’ He gestured to the burns encompassing his body.

‘I didn’t mean to insinuate...I’m sorry.’

‘Stop worrying so much. You’re beautiful. All of you. If you don’t want to show me, it’s fine. But I want to see all of you.’

Lyris slowly unwound her arms from her torso. Branek’s hands ran down her sides, skimming over the side of her breasts and down her stomach. She gasped at the feel of his calloused hands running over her sensitive skin.

His hands stopped at the waistband of her breeches. She nodded, giving him permission to completely undress her. Once she was divested of her pants he ran a tongue up her thigh, ending with a small nip that made her yelp.

He let out a deep and throaty chuckle that made her thighs quiver with desire. Branek crawled back up to her, kicking off his pants as he did.

A moment of uncertainty seized both of them as they stared into each others eyes, but she still felt the desire in her growing into a primal need that only swelled when Branek used one hand pin both of her above her head.

‘I just want to hear it one last time,’ he whispered.

‘What? Tell me…’ Lyris was usually never one to relinquish control in the bedroom but she found this reversal of roles extremely erotic.

‘Tell me that you want this. You want me.’

‘I want us. I want you. I want you inside me,’ she whispered.

Lyris knew she never before experienced true bliss until this moment

When Lyris woke in the morning, something was off. The softness of pillows under her head was missing, and she thought she felt arms encircling her. 

She cracked open her eyes, and was greeted by the sight of a bare dragonborn chest. Oh...she thought as realization and remembrance set in.

Lyris sat up, feeling a tenderness to her entire body. Her neck felt sore. She raised her fingers to touch the side of her neck and felt the indent of fang bites. She didn’t even remember feeling that happen last night.

Lyris stared down at the man sleeping besides her. She had never seen him so peaceful before. It seemed a shame to wake him, but they had to go.

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

‘Branek…’ she said softly. ‘Branek?’

He began stirring slowly. ‘Morning…’

‘Good morning, vhenan. It’s time to get up.’

‘No.’ Branek grabbed her arm and pulled her back close to him. ‘I’m sure the others can handle what happens next. You and me, we’ll stay here forever.’

‘In bed?’ Lyris asked with a smirk.

‘Yup.’

‘And what would we do in this bed for the rest of our lives?’

‘I’m sure we can think of something to pass the time. So...what did you think of, ah, last night?’

‘I’m surprised you couldn’t tell from my reaction.’

‘It did seem like you were...enjoying it. I just wanted to make sure that…’

‘That I wasn’t faking it?’ Lyris propped herself up on one elbow so she could look him in the eye. ‘Come on, give yourself some credit. Besides, I could never lie to you like that.’

‘Good. I...really enjoyed it too,’ he said with a grin.

‘Good.’ She leaned down and gently kissed him.

A knock sounded on the door.

‘Yo Lyris, you up?’ Varis called. ‘We can’t find Branek and…’

‘He’s in here!’ she yelled back.

Branek looked at her with an expression equally shocked and embarrassed. ‘Lyris!’

‘What? They’d figure it out after they saw us leaving the room together.’

There was such a long pause that followed Lyris thought Varis might have walked off before he started speaking again. ‘I uhm...alright then, could you guys just not...take too long? We should leave soon.’ Varis’s footsteps vanished from earshot.

‘I guess we really should get up…’ She let out a squeal as Branek pulled her back into the bed and rolled her onto her back. ‘Branek as much as I would love to recreate, we need to go…’

‘I’m sure we can spare five more minutes.’

‘Make it twenty and we have a deal.’

[supergirlimaginesfic-blog]

Dating Kara Danvers (Meeting you was like finally coming home)

Request: henlo can u do an imagine where reader is dating kara and reader has been best friends with lena since forever and kara gets really jealous and stuff ;) 

a/n: apparently I was in a mood for fluffy angst Kara. I feel like I haven’t written one of those yet!! Kara has so much grief and a bunch of other emotions to unpack and I feel like the show did a pretty good job of covering that, but like the garbage monster I am, I need more. There is so much potential there and I am so fascinated by that part of her story. It’s the thing for me that makes her so much more compelling, it’s that thing that gives her that other dimension.

But also, I love easygoing, huge nerd Lena, I’d protect her with my entire life. I stopped midway through writing this and took a two hour nap. I feel like it might have paid off LOL. As always, I love seeing your prompts, requests, all the things you send me. Let me know what you wanna see and I’ll do my best to do it justice :D thank you so much for reading y’all!

- - - - -

You barely manage to not spit out your coffee as Lena interrupts your drinking with a particularly dirty joke. Sometimes you can hardly believe people are really so convinced that Lena is just a cold, calculating shell of a woman, but you figure she takes some comfort in that.

The truth is, she is so much more than that. You know the CEO Lena Luthor is a caricature of a phoenix - rising from the ashes of something once ugly and emerging as something beautiful and good. You love your best friend for that.

Even when you were six years old and she was five (she is just two months younger than you, thank you very much) you could tell she had so much light in her. It was a light that couldn’t be contained - her mind was just everywhere and she wanted to do all the things. Where her family wanted to wield that power and have their hands all over everything that could promise another peg in their overbearing legacy, Lena was a beacon of energy and goodness.

She was eight years old when she corrected your science teacher and informed him that what he was using to try and teach the class to explain the current lesson was something that was in the next unit in the curriculum, and with wide eyes and bated breath, you waited for the inevitable repercussions that awaited your best friend. Instead, your teacher just smiled, staring at the whiteboard as he amended his mistake and thanked Lena.

She was thirteen years old and you were getting into your obsession with hardcore metal bands and overhauling your entire wardrobe with band shirts and skate attire when she swept the Mathletics contest with ease. You teasingly referenced Mean Girls and her heroic likeness to a certain Cady Heron, which you were pleased to find she appreciated a lot.

You were sixteen years old when you found out she could graduate high school a year ahead of you, probably even more, and she looked sadly at you after she’d told you. The two of you were hanging out in your room, she was leaning against your bedframe and you were hanging upside down off the edge of your bed just at her feet.

“Why do you look like I just kicked your dog?”

“I don’t have a dog, how do you know what I would look like as if you’d just kicked my dog?”

“If anyone looked anything other than totally mortified and betrayed by the universe if something like that ever happened to their dog, I wouldn’t even be talking to them, actually.”

She chuckled dejectedly and you figured you’d take whatever small wins you could get.

“Seriously, quit moping. We already both know you’re a freakin’ genius. Don’t prove everyone wrong and not take the best opportunity of your life.”

“What if I am happy now?”

“Well then, you don’t accept the university offer and you wait. You’re desirable enough, all those universities will come scrambling over each other for you any time.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes at you. “And what if I want to?”

“Then don’t do anything that will make you unhappy - you take all the chances you can get and you own it.”

“But how do I know what I want and what would be good for me? What if they’re two different things? I feel like they’re not mutually exclusive. I’ve kinda been feeling that a lot lately.” Lena’s forehead crinkled in contemplation and you clicked your tongue at her, seeing her genuinely torn.

“You’re my best friend. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the entire time I’ve known your insufferably smart, gorgeous, and kinda ignorant ass, it’s that you can mess up so hard but still make it look good. Even if you realize you did the wrong thing, you can always pick back up. You know how to make things work. You figure it out all the time. That’s you.” You jabbed a finger in her direction, lifting yourself up to see her small grin.

“It must be so lonely being one of the youngest freshmen in university. I’d miss you a lot.”

“Yeah, and I’ll miss your dumb face a lot too. At least I’ll know you’ll be doing all that learning and thriving so you can hustle when we’re older and you can provide for me for the rest of my life.”

“I feel like you want me gone for all the wrong reasons.” She quirked an eyebrow at you and gave you a challenging look.

“Is it so wrong of me to wish the most success for my best friend so she can maybe always order the pizza whenever we hang out once she becomes wildly rich?” You asked her earnestly.

She laughed fully again, nudging your body with her foot and looking pleased as you grunted in annoyance. “I’d do more than that. You always hog the last piece. I’d order two pizzas, just to shut you up.”

You gasped, “Wow, rude.”

And so it was, years later and now in your twenties, you found yourself sitting across from her desk, Lena really a sight to behold as she presides over her family’s company, L-Corp. What the public don’t know, though, was that behind closed doors, the CEO of National City’s most affluent company just casually insinuated your girlfriend looked like she loved being rough with you in bed.

A little bit of coffee dribbled from your mouth when you barely managed to contain yourself. You wiped away at your lips as she smirked at you behind her own cup.

“You... are a little shit.”

“You’ve still yet to refute my observations.” She replies cheekily.

“Yeah, well, you can kiss my ass if you think I’m going to indulge you.”

“I’ll leave that for Kara to do, darling.”

You huff indignantly again and throw a crumpled up napkin at her face. It bounces off her easily and she laughs at you.

“In all seriousness though, how are you and Kara?” She looks fondly at the soft smile you make.

“So great, Lena. I didn’t think it’d be this easy dating a superhero either? We’ve been together for a few months now and it may just be a short while but I feel so much lighter with her around. I can feel the difference. My life’s just so much simpler with her.”

Lena smiles brightly, “I’m so happy for you. You deserve simplicity.”

“When are you going to find someone to itch your needs?”

She grunts at your question, “Do you really have to phrase it like that? Anyway, you know I’m rather busy. L-Corp is on the up and up now and I can’t afford any distractions.”

“You deserve a life of simplicity too, Lena.”

“Ah, but with the way my life is going now? The fortune cookie my mother read when I was seven said I’d be destined for great things, don’t you know this? Anyway, if I had a hunk like Kara in my life I don’t think I’d be able to get anything done, so I commend you, especially in the mornings-”

You toss a pencil in her direction this time and she just dodges the attack. She laughs melodiously as you send her a dark look, trying futilely to hide the blush that is quickly colouring your cheeks.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and Kara’s head pops through the small opening.

“Oh, hey (Y/N), I didn’t realize you’d be here today. Hi Lena.” She smiles as she slips her whole body through, closing the door behind her.

“Hey babe.” You duck your head as your eyes widen slightly, still trying to hide the blush Lena successfully drew out of you.

Kara notices the blush on your cheeks, tilting her head with a small smile. “What were you two talking about? I could come back later if you want. Snapper gave me the entire day to be out of the office.”

“Nothing! Nothing worth knowing.” You remark almost too quickly and Lena is grinning as her eyes twinkle with mischief.

“You two are swoon-worthy. Hello, Kara- goodness, is it 12:30 already? I’m so terribly sorry, I lost track of time! Your girlfriend here deemed it necessary to derail my entire day.” She jokes good-naturedly.

You scowl at her and reply instantly, “You love me. Who else is going to remind you to come back down to earth with that inflated ego of yours.”

“It may be said I merely tolerate you. Regardless, I’m sure half of the city’s populace would be more than willing to do that job for you.” She purses her lips into a smirk and Kara watches your interaction.

“No need to leave, Kara, I’ll get out of your hair, for your jobs’ sake. Don’t let her get under your skin.” You look pointedly at Lena, addressing your last remark to Kara. You stand up and make the short distance to walk to your girlfriend, leaning up on your toes to give a quick peck on her lips.

She smiles dumbly and bites her lip after you kiss her - you have to tear your eyes away if you want to make it out of Lena’s office with some of your decency left.

“I’ll see you later. Text me when you’re coming home.” You whisper to her.

You toss a “Goodbye, loser,” to Lena over your shoulder and you see as she waves her entire arm excessively as you leave.

You go back home and manage to get a good chunk of your work done. Some days more than others you feel absolutely thrilled that you have a job that allows you to work from home on your computer. That’s when you get a text from Kara.

Kara: “Baby, I’m back at the office. Snapper called me back and wants us to stick around. I’m gonna be stuck here for a little bit longer than I realized :( I wish I could leave now, I was so excited to see you”

You smile to yourself, feeling a little bummed out for your girlfriend.

you: “Awww I’m sorry babe!! do you know how much longer you’ll be? Maybe I can bring you a special something to tide you over? What have you eaten today??”

You contemplate the admittedly extensive list of Kara’s favourite food haunts, and you wonder which three of the fifty places she hasn’t eaten at today.

Kara: “You know you could bring nothing but your cute little self and I’d be more than thrilled to see you.”

Kara: “You don’t have to come though, please stay home and relax. I’ll catch up to you when I can!”

you: “wow, I’m more exciting than food? To you?? That’s a big statement Kara. Well if it’s no trouble, I’ll pop by quickly anyway. I feel like I haven’t seen you all day. I feel like someone deserves a box of Katherine’s donuts.”

Kara: “ohhh you, if you insist. <3″

You eventually make your way to CatCo after stopping by Katherine’s Cafe, a bakery that’s seen more of you and Kara as much as your own apartment. You make your way through the building and smile as you wave to some of Kara’s co-workers, greeting Winn quickly as you see his dejected form slump just barely lift off his desk to return a lazy wave to you.

You get to Kara’s office and knock on the door, hearing her soft “Come in” to let you know to go through. When you close the door behind you, there’s a mountain of papers stacked haphazardly all over her desk and you see just a little bit of Kara sitting at her desk before you see her properly when she stands.

She opens her arms fully and you set your box down before making your way to her. She leans as much of her bodyweight as she’ll allow into your slightly shorter frame and sinks into your embrace.

“It’s starting to feel like some of this is a job that even Supergirl can’t handle.”

You chuckle into her chest and look up at her, kissing her chin before she gets the idea and kisses your lips as you both sigh.

“You’re Supergirl with or without the cape. And even without all those special powers of yours, you’re still my superhero.”

She smiles lazily as she rubs at her temples, a habit you know she started once in pretense to act human which has grown into a frustrated quirk of its own anyway. You leave her embrace reluctantly to move the box of donuts on a slightly smaller table that isn’t covered in documents.

“Kathy says hey, by the way.”

Kara’s sat in her chair and motions for you to come over. You grin as you make your way to sit on her lap - having a near invincible girlfriend who punches cars for fun was a cool perk of a relationship. You could practically climb her and she wouldn’t bat an eye.

“I love that woman, she should get more credit for those addictive baked goods of hers.”

She wraps her arms around your middle as your arms rest on her shoulders. You massage the back of her neck and she lets out a heavy sigh.

“Really rough day huh? How was your interview with Lena?”

“Good, good as always. We barely got through the interview when Snapper called me. Didn’t have a chance to have a proper conversation that didn’t have to do with work.”

You hum as you let your fingers run through her hair, you’ve let her hair come down to give her some reprieve.

“I’m glad you and Lena are great friends. I love that my best friend and girlfriend don’t have to pretend to like each other.”

Kara laughs as she buries her face into your chest. You can barely hear her speak.

“No, Lena’s great. She talks about you a lot. It’s so awesome watching how different she is with you.”

“You’re pretty close to her too. She trusts you and you trust her.”

Kara is silent for a moment and you have the slightest creeping suspicion that she’s fallen asleep. You wouldn’t actually be too surprised if she did. Her reply is muffled though and you can’t make out what she’s said.

“What was that, baby?”

Kara whines lowly when she realizes she has to repeat what she said, seeming to not have intended for you to hear her remark.

“I just said I wish I had a person like that.”

You lean back and give your girlfriend a soft look, your hands coming around to cup her face.

“You don’t have to be lonely, baby. You’re not alone. You have so many people who love you. We love you so much. For some of us, we’d even die for you.”

She clicks her tongue and her forehead crinkles. “You know I wouldn’t want that.”

“No, but it’s true.”

“It’s just silly, it’s stupid, it’s such an unpleasant thought. It makes me feel greedy. I have Alex in my life and she’s the best sister. I can’t ask for a better sister. She’s done so much for me and she’s lived her whole life to do things to protect me and she does it all so selflessly. You have Lena and you’re an only child and she’s like your sister. I don’t know why I should be jealous, it’s so unbelievably selfish of me.”

You melt at your girlfriend’s words and Kara squeaks softly as she realizes her admission.

“Baby, you’re jealous?”

She mutters into your body again, you realize she’s done it purposely this time but you let it slide.

“I just want you to know there’s no need to be jealous of me and Lena. We’re close as best friends can be. You and Alex also share a very special relationship that could seem difficult to get into sometimes. It actually terrifies me as much as it awes me, the lengths she’d go for you.”

You can hear Kara huff in laughter and you continue playing with her hair.

She replies after a moment of contemplation. “Lena is your Alex, that’s how I see it and I totally get it. I just guess sometimes... sometimes- it’s so bad. I really hate that I think this at all. It makes me feel like I’d change Alex, but I wouldn’t! I don’t ever want to change Alex.” She adds in quickly, and you let her continue, knowing she has to say her piece.

“It’s just, sometimes I wish I had a person I could choose. Like the relationship you and Lena have, sometimes I wish I’d met someone under circumstances where we weren’t forced to learn how to be around each other. One where we could just be. I wouldn’t have it any other way with Alex though, not at all. It’s just something I’ve always wanted to experience. But sometimes...” Kara inhales deeply and holds her breath before she lets it all out slowly. She moves her face away from your body and leans into your touch, allowing you to continue your soft work of massaging her head.

“Sometimes, Alex reminds me of my childhood. She reminds me of all the good, and all the bad, and all the in between. And whenever I think of this ugly loneliness I feel, I think about home too. And I think about what it’d be like if I still had a planet I could go back to, if I could just leave and fly back to my family and my friends after a while. I know it’s so much to ask for, to have two planets to call home. But I’ve learned to love Earth. Earth is my home now, and my life is so great here. It’s just, sometimes without meaning to, I’m reminded of the vast oneness I carry and I can’t even share Krypton with Clark. Seeing you with Lena today just brought it back and I really didn’t want to pin this on you today, god I’m so sorry- I’m not blaming you at all or anything. I guess I just had that all in my head and I never actually said it out loud before until now-”

“Kara.” You bring her face gently towards you and she lets herself be pulled towards you. You run a thumb gently over her lips as her mouth slightly parts, looking at you with wet eyes.

“Baby come here,” you kiss her softly and slowly, taking your time and letting Kara pull away.

Her breathing steadies as a tear falls from her eye, and you wipe her cheek with a thumb. Your words are barely a whisper when finally one of you speaks again.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way. I can never understand your pain. It pains me so greatly that I, or anyone else, could never understand the true depths of your losses. I so wish for there to be a way I can easily fix it with a snap of my fingers or a wish. It’s not that simple though.”

You bring her close to you again and she lets herself become enveloped in you.

“I’m glad you told me, Kara. You are so strong. You’re the bravest person I know. You inspire me every day. Every day you go out, live your life, and save others too, and you could very easily be bitter and resentful. But your heart is so good. You are so good, baby, and sometimes you are so good that we don’t deserve you, but you’re still out here loving and laughing and I love you so much for it.”

You hear her sniffle as she replies coarsely. “I love you too.”

“Good.”

She laughs slightly and you smile. “I love that you can trust me with little bits of your history. You are an entire world, Kara. It’s so amazing that you’re here and I get to kiss you, that I get to love you the way I can and that I can hear all these stories from you.”

“I like telling you.” She adds her next statement so softly, it could get lost in the air. “You make me feel like I’m coming home.”

Despite your resolute intention not to cry, you can feel a suspicious onslaught of unshed tears threatening your eyes, and Kara is on a mission to do exactly that.

“It’s so tiring sometimes; remembering you’re the last of your people. It’s like most days, remembering means doing everything you can to forget about it. And that’s not what Krypton deserves. That’s not what my family or my planet deserves. I want to live to honour their memory. But it’s also not fair to the life I have here. I don’t want to live with one foot out the door. My life is so good here, and I have people who love me so much that most days it feels like loneliness is a trivial thing in the grand scheme of the people in my life and the loyalty we share with each other. The little things just add up, and remembering it is like falling into a deep, dark pit of emptiness that I can’t come back from. I try so hard not to fall into that. I guess today was just one of those days I was forced to realize it again.”

You run your hands over Kara’s back soothingly, rubbing in calming patterns that you know helps ease her.

“You don’t have to forget Krypton. No matter what you do, you are honouring your planet. You survived against the odds, and I think there’s a reason for that. Someone or something out there knew you were special and that you would stand by Krypton the way it deserves. Your people would be so proud of you.”

You’re both crying freely now, and you wonder how a surprise visit to CatCo and a box of donuts could have ended up like this.

“You don’t have to do it alone either, Kara. We’re here for you if you need us. We’re here for you if you want us to help, and we’re here for you if you want to figure it out alone. Whatever you need from us, we’ll do it because we love you. You deserve to be happy and you deserve to feel worthy of a life of happiness. Don’t live in the fear of forgetting your home. Everything you’ve done so far and everything you’re going to do, you do it with such greatness. You are the best thing that Krypton has created.”

“I love you, (Y/N). I may have lost a planet but I found another. You’re the thing I want to live for and you’re the one I want to be better for.”

You rub at your eyes, inhaling sharpy in some attempt to suck all the tears back into your eyes. Kara looks up at you smiling widely, more than you’d seen her do all day, and she kisses you passionately.

You’re laughing into the kiss when she starts becoming grabby, you’d picked up on the hint when she started tugging up on your shirt. You’d barely kept your composure, remembering you were in her office and you had to swat her hands away much to her adorable frustration.

“Let’s go home, Kara. I don’t think you’re going to get any work done now.”

“Can we maul that box of donuts too? I’m in the mood for a romcom.”

“Alright, you got it, nerd.”

[prettyblossoms]

Lost in Limbo (A Reddie Fic) Ch.3

Summary: Dealing with the pressure of being a teenager is proving to be too much for seventeen-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak, who is unable to deal with his overbearing mother's expectations and violent school bullies. To make matters worse, he is fighting a losing battle with his sexuality.

Meanwhile, Richie Tozier is trying to convince himself that what he feels towards his best friend is a mere attraction, covering it up by being with multiple girls.

Will they be able to find the truth in each other or are they destined to crash and burn?

                                    Chapter 3: Coming Undone

By the time his third-period class had come and gone, Eddie regained most of his composure. He accepted what happened with his mother and was ready for his punishment the millisecond he got into the house.

He had shaken off the of the majority of Richie’s jokes. However, he still felt Richie’s hand on his thigh and heard the unnerving voice of the leper. Even though it had been years since the fight with Pennywise, he still was haunted by nightmares.

In many of these dreams, he would die. Even if it wasn't real, he still felt the excruciating pain surge through his body as It ripped his limbs off his body. His pleas and cries for help always ended up going unheard. Eddie would wake up in a state of panic. He could recall how his heart raced so rapidly in his chest that it hurt. It hurt so bad that he began to struggle to breathe.

In other instances, he had mustered up the courage to tell his friends the truth about his battle with his sexuality and the leper. Earning him only gasps, slurs, and vile insults they each spoke as they all stood in the shadows of the sewer. The only person he could see in this dream was Richie, but that was more than enough to completely kill him. The look of disgust, anger, and hatred in his eyes cut him more in-depth than any physical pain he could ever feel. He would wake up sobbing so loudly that he had to bite his bottom lip to muffle the noise. The amount of emotional distress the dreams caused made him wish he would just suffocate and die. At least that would be better than losing the only people worth living for.

He was forced back to reality when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He jumped at the touch and looked behind him to see Ms. Lewis. Her black unruly hair was in an array of curls that stuck tightly to her head. She was staring at Eddie, her sparkling baby blue eyes filled with concern. She wore a long floral dress that completely covered her feet paired with cardigan wrapped around her body.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Eddie.” She carefully spoke as if she was dealing with a wounded animal. “The bell for lunch rang 10 minutes ago, and you’ve been just sitting here staring at the whiteboard."

Eddie exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say. He knew he looked like a deer caught in headlights, so he avoided her stare.

Ms. Lewis didn't falter as she continued, "You also didn’t get involved with the class discussion on Lords of the Flies, which is completely unlike you. Are you okay?”

Eventually, Eddie’s tired eyes met hers, and he wanted to shatter to pieces. She was understanding, smart, and attentive. Like any reasonable person should be. He wished his mother could be like her. Hell, he wanted Ms. Lewis to be his mother because he was on the verge of falling apart. He needed someone to listen to him without judgment. The weight of the world suffocating him was becoming too much to bare.

But, his mother was far from being someone like Ms. Lewis. If he happened to break around her, she would want to put him in the hospital. Which would fuel her fire to start getting Eddie new medications, ones that he doesn’t need. Worst of all, she would never let him out of the house again. Not without a hell of a fight.

Unfortunately, Ms. Lewis was not his mother. Even though he felt comfortable, safe, and unjudged around her, he knew that she was obligated to let the school know whatever he may say. In turn, they would notify his mother.

Eddie sighed deeply and continued to look into her eyes as he lied, “I’m sorry Ms. Lewis, I'm just drained. I stayed up studying for an upcoming exam.” He inwardly thought, ‘Please don’t ask me what subject. For the love of God, please don’t ask me what subject.’

Ms. Lewis stared at him skeptically but let her suspicions go. She smiled at him, “I am sure the exam is important. Just remember to take care of yourself. Okay, Eddie? Now go on, hurry and go get lunch.”

He smiled back at her meekly as he stood up and grabbed his stuff. “I understand. It won't happen again. Thank you, Ms. Lewis.”

Bev, Mike, Bill, Stan, and Ben all sat at their usual table. Their current discussion was focusing on what they wanted to do for the upcoming weekend. Bill had suggested going to see The Sandlot at the Aladdin to which Stan and Bev agreed. Bill and Stan wanted to see it because not only was it a comedy, but it was also a story about friendship. Bev just loved going to the movies.

However, Ben and Mike wanted to have a camping night at the barrens. It had been a couple of months since they had the chance to stargaze and they knew the weather would be perfect this weekend. It also just happened that Eddie’s mom would be out of town this Friday and wouldn't be returning until Monday. His mom leaving and letting him stay home was a pretty rare occurrence. The time was right, and they felt this was the better option.

Since they couldn’t come to a consensus, they all agreed to wait for Richie and Eddie to decide.

Beverly took a bite from her juicy green apple causing a loud crunch at the table, listening to the chatter as she silently chewed the food in her mouth. The redhead looked up to see the doors of the cafeteria opening, immediately noticing that Richie was heading over to the table with his “girlfriend” in tow under his arm.

She groaned loudly, breaking the boy's attention away from their conversation. Whenever Richie’s girlfriend came around, she just couldn’t help but feel irritable.

Beverly just couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl was toxic to them, especially Richie.

Everyone at the table looked at her out of concern and were about to ask her if she was alright, but they too noticed the couple coming towards the table.

They all sighed and prepared for another lunch filled with awkward laughs and stares.

None of them even had to exchange words to know not to mention their ideas for the weekend because she was the type of person who just invited herself.

“Fellow losers, I require your utmost attention.” Richie said using one of his British voices, “King Tozier has arrived.” He plopped down in his usual spot, besides Beverly and patted her back.

The joke earned a laugh from all of his friends.

Samantha, feeling left out, replicated one of his voices as she spoke, “Along with his queen.” She took the seat right beside Richie, which is where Eddie usually sat. Then she placed her large bag on the only space remaining on the bench.

Richie didn’t notice; his eyes were glued onto his pepperoni pizza. He could hear Samantha speaking to him, but his thoughts about Eddie were drowning out her words. He merely nodded his head every couple of minutes to make it look as if he was listening.

Beverly and Stan both rolled their eyes in annoyance. Stan scooched closer to Bill, who was forced into Mike.

Stan hated this girl.

More importantly, he hated that Richie was usually oblivious to the fact that he was putting his friends on the back burner. Mainly, to poor Eddie.

However, today seemed different. Stan noticed that Richie’s whole demeanor towards her had changed. Usually, they would be obnoxiously swapping spit, unable to keep their hands off of each other by now. Yet, Richie was not even looking at her. He was staring more lovingly at his fucking pizza than Samantha.

Stan wasn't going to mention it though. At least, not right now. He grabbed an anti-bacterial wipe from his lunch box and wiped the table and the seat down for his hypochondriac friend. Even though he was closer to Bill, he understood Eddie the most.

Although they were very different, they both had very similar qualities. Stans extreme OCD caused him to be very careful and methodical with how he did things. Everything he owned had a rightful place, the contents of lunch box being a prime example.

Everything inside had to be separated so it would not come into contact with his other food. The bottom of the pail had to have the container with his sandwich. Above the container was home to his fruits. Finally, the top portion of the lunch pail holding his vegetables. If anything inside were to fall out of place, he couldn't help but feel compelled to fix it.

Just like Eddie couldn't help the urge to clean everything out of his irrational fear of germs. The kid couldn't stand to be around anyone who showed the smallest symptoms of an illness. He couldn't use public bathrooms because of the possibilities of who used them. He carried his hand sanitizer in his fanny pack, bringing it out at least five times a day. For Christ sake, he couldn't even spend the night at his friend's houses without bringing his antibacterial soap.

Out of all the loser's club members, they both could empathize with each other on how much it sucked to not be in charge of their lives.

For that, Stan was thankful for having Eddie as his friend. So, he left the antibacterial wipes on the table, knowing all too well that Eddie would insist on wiping the surfaces down a second time.

Eddie inched closer in line, feeling like his skin was crawling. The cafeteria was jam-packed with people. Usually, he would rather die before eating the shit they call food, but he knew he wouldn't survive the day without something. He was going to take the risk, just this once.

The thought of how disgustingly dirty everything was caused him to feel very uneasy. He refused to touch anything and kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest. If anyone got too close to him, he would bite his lip to prevent himself from screaming at them. He reached the front of the line and was greeted with a massive set woman in her fifties wearing a hairnet on her head and a disgusting apron wrapped around her body.

Eddie wanted to throw up.

"What's your student ID number?" She asked him in an uninterested tone.

"1124599," Eddie responded nervously, his stomach began to cry at him in protest.

She typed it into her computer lazily. "What do you want?" Her voice held no enthusiasm.

"What do you have?"

Eddie watched as she rolled her eyes at him."Today we are serving pepperoni pizza or spaghetti."

Both of those options sounded equally as repulsive to Eddie. He began to think to himself, 'The pizza has probably been touched by the workers, while the spaghetti is hopefully scooped up onto the tray. The tray that is in contact with at least two dirty students per day, meaning that thousands have had the potential to use it. There had to multiple types of germs on the trays alone. Maybe they would let me wash my tray if I asked.'

The woman grunted. "Kid, your holding up the line. Pick one." She demanded.

Eddie felt defeated. "Spaghetti, I guess."

He watched in horror as she walked over to the window and grabbed a tray from the middle of a large stack. Then she grabbed an ice cream scooper off the metal table. Using the scoop, she got some spaghetti out of a deep pan. She smacked it onto the tray harshly and lifted the scooper back up, for Eddie to see the spaghetti remained completely intact. It looked sticky, disgusting, and days old. Finally, she opted for him to take the tray.

Eddie shakily grabbed onto it, feeling as if his fingers were going to burn off just from touching it. Upon walking out of the cafeteria, he at least felt less compacted, but dirty nonetheless.

The hypochondriac noticed that all of the Loser’s were sitting in their usual spot. He began to walk over to them, relieved that he was finally going to be able to relax and stop shaking. His pace slowed down when he saw they weren’t speaking to each other. A sign that there was something out of the ordinary going on. His eyes locked onto to Richie, whose gaze was downcast, staring at his empty tray. Usually, he would be talking so much that their friends had to beg him to shut up.

He looked to Richie’s right and found the reason why they were so quiet. Samantha was there talking about god knows what, in his seat.