#main character moment incoming

[wikitpowers]

he is the moment 😩

artists: @cassandrajean, @parcai and @aliceduke

[phoenixcatch7]

I know 'person with secret to hide spots other person with secret to hide but doesn't say anything' is like. Thee trope in superhero crossovers, but come on! Some of these guys have been doing this for decades! There's tons of heroes that have gone to pretty extreme lengths to be Completely Imperceptible in civilian life.

Don't you think it's scarier, after all is said and done, to sit there and think I didn't notice a thing? I wouldn't have ever realised? I would never have known? To know that someone you were familiar with - close with, even! - had this whole other personality and skillset and powers and experiences and life just behind the curtain, and they hid it so completely you didn't even see it was there.

'I always knew there was something off' what if you didn't. How world shaking would it be to be so utterly blindsided? To know that this person had somehow learned to so deceptive?

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[briebysabs]

I find it fascinating how much orv makes Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk live by the constraints of “reader” and “protagonist”. Like KDJ wants to see the ending but at the same time, he doesn’t and wishes the story would never end. Not simply because he loves this story but because he needs it like oxygen; TWSA gave him a purpose. He was its reader for 13 years and you notice KDJ never talks of what he’ll do after the scenarios until towards the end. There’s even a moment between him and Sangah where he ponders what he would’ve done if the novel never became reality. If he read the ending, closed his phone, and went back to his apartment. He contemplates if he would’ve killed himself, KDJ knows at least the sad truth that he wouldn’t have befriended Sangah. He’d never reconciled with his mother, he was getting laid off from his job in two days. From 15 to 28 TWSA was the only lifeline he had so think about it. What becomes of a reader when the story is over? One can discern, based on SP and OD’s conclusion, it is to find a new story. But Kim Dokja couldn’t bear to do that. To continue on, he needed to be a reader.

Lee Sookyoung wrote her novel to gain income for KDJ’s living but also to paint herself as the murderer. To sink the lie into KDJ’s head that she was the one wielding the knife. If the traumatized 12-13 years old Kim Dokja knew he killed his father by accident and his mother took the fall for him, KDJ would’ve killed himself. No doubt the guilt would kill him so LSK felt as though she had to do this. So that KDJ’s self-hatred would be aimed at her instead. She made her son a reader of his own life. It temporarily saves him, gives him some time but KDJ is still given a label “a son of a murderer”. His trauma was publicized and hyperfocused on, he was bullied excessively for it. That book is one of the factors that led to his first suicide attempt. So it doomed him.

HSY wrote TWSA to keep Kim Dokja alive. A desperate attempt to save a kid with one foot prepared to leap off a cliff. What else could she have done? She created characters that KDJ could aim his self-hatred at: Kim Namwoon, Anna Croft, the constellations, Nirvana. She made him a reader of a character’s life. Made him inject YJH’s essence through his veins like an IV drip. Of course, Kim Dokja wants Yoo Joonghyuk to be happy in the end. That is the main driving force between so many decisions he makes but where does leave him? The whole reason he attached himself to TWSA was because this protagonist was suffering too. But he kept on living round by round so surely, they could live through their shitty lives together. If the TWSA ended on that train, KDJ would truly be alone and might’ve killed himself. So what happens, the novel comes to life and gives him even more time. But because of that, later down the line KDJ will make the choice to become the Oldest Dream, a watcher for all eternity. Yes, KimCom’s world needed someone to dream for it to exist but even if that wasn’t necessary ... .do you think KDJ would have enjoyed a happily ever after discovering he was behind all their pain and tribulations? The guilt might’ve killed him, we saw some of that with his visceral reaction to OD. So it doomed him.

Kim Dokja has to be a reader.

Yoo Joonghyuk was created for Kim Dokja. This isn’t a shipping statement, this is just a fact. I think it’s foolish to believe that is all there is to his character, he’s his own individual and his journey throughout orv is keeping his autonomy and gaining agency. Outside of what he’s written to behave like or KDJ’s will for him. But his life’s purpose is to keep Kim Dokja alive. HSY wrote each of his regressions to save this one person. And this is where the 0th turn YJH comes in because he makes the decision to regress. He was happy in his world, that is true but he couldn’t truly rest because something was missing. Everything was idle, every day was peaceful after saving the world. But while yeah, KDJ was reading his story as always…he wasn’t being the protagonist. YJH needs to do something, he needs a goal to accomplish so he gives himself one. He regresses for three reasons: To meet his sponsor aka his reader Kim Dokja. To find out his purpose, what he was made for….which is to save Kim Dokja. And finally to fulfill his sense of self which is being a protagonist. Reaching self actualization and being an active force in the world around him. So fast forward when Kim Dokja’s fragments are scattered across the universe and the scenarios are over, why is it surprising that YJH falls into depression? Why is it surprising that he goes to HSY in the museum and seriously asks her to end his life? What becomes of a protagonist when there’s no one to read his story? What use is there for him? So of course he’ll be the one to venture on this suicide mission to space, hopping from one worldline to the next, grasping onto the fragile hope that KDJ can come home.

Yoo Joonghyuk has to be a protagonist.

[pepurika]

I really like Remy and Jamis but I sort of got my hopes up that this was going to be more of a sapphic oriented story since the main character is a girl and she had that one moment with those ladies at the pub. that is a me problem though. however i'm really grateful for all the ladies in the comic, so many people don't know how to write women and yours feel so real

*sjcreams from on top of a mountain*

I KNOW AND I AGREE BUT PLEASE GIve me a chance im trying very hard to squeeze in everything here within a certain timeframe and i have so much still to tell, MORE GIRLS INCOMING SOON

(perils of having things and stuffs happening behind the scenes and time is against me but i assure you i have Plans and i am working hard to make them happen)

[nwarrior777]

So, august is Fat Liberation Month? i can't pass by!

Hello everyone! I am Kris, 27 yo queer representative artist. My goal of art is to draw diverse relatable characters in a gorgeous way, so people can feel themselves valid and seen

My characters are always, with very little exceptions, fat, queer, and has other realistic features of appearance. Recently i dived in disability topics, so i am adding this too. And i am doing such art for about a decade, so if you will look my blog you will find so much!

Here is what i have:

Short films! i have 3 original ones already on my youtube (NWarrior777)

(moments from film "LoveLoveLove)

A lot of comics!

(first two are pages from "Temperature of Love" and third one is one of WWV comic strips series)

Here is post there you can find most of finished comics! Also #wwv for series of little ones with that tomato vampire, werewolf and witch poly family

Even poem! (i started one not long ago. and also have accessible game in development since last year!)

(a part of my poem "And then the Rabbit saw The Sun)

And much much more!

oc drawings, fanart with diverse au and headcanons, tutorials, just art of random characters and oh! my pride - a project of mine i was making long ago

it's #reqbodyposi (both name and tag for find) - a project where people sent me request describing appearance or disability feature and i made art with it There are more than 50 drawings in this project and almost all characters are fat (i drawn fat character as default unless someone specified in request about thin figure)

So yep, welcome!

❤️❤️❤️

p.s. also all my content is free, i monetize only соммisоns. Which are my main income and i need to pay rent soon, so if you want and can support me by this or donate look in pined post UuU

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 3: Entangled Ambitions - A Pact Sealed in Royal Halls

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

Satoru’s heart stops beating for a moment, eyes widen at the harsh words you just spit at him. How would someone like you know about his powers? He was always keen to hide them, never used his abilities in the presence of someone apart from Suguru and his family. He doesn’t even know you that well. You, the daughter of Naobito Zenin. How on earth did you find out?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You clear your throat, nerves threatening to fail you. This is the only chance you have left. If Gojo Satoru doesn’t rethink his decision…No, there is no way you’ll die again.

“I am talking about your ability to manipulate the area around you freely, the fact that you can distort space. You are also able to create barriers and voids that nullify any incoming attacks, which makes you almost invincible in battle and is responsible for your great reputation as a fighter. But if your followers get to know about the real reason behind your skills…You know how great the fear of people with special powers is in this country, that all of them get executed. Not even Your Majesty will be spared from this.”

You are walking on thin ice. He is the prince, after all. So much higher in his rank that it would be easy for him to get you executed due to false accusations. But this might be the only card you have left, your last spark of hope. If Gojo Satoru won’t marry you, your father will let you get killed. And apart from that, this might be the only chance you’ll get to meet your favourite characters. What about Geto and Nanami? If Naoya and Gojo exist, they are definitely somewhere in this world as well. You are literally living the dream of every anmie and manga fan.

Well, except for the stinging fact that you call Naobito your father and Naoya your stinky brother.

“That are some heavy accusations you’re throwing at me, Lady (y/n). You know as well as I do that I could get you executed right on the sport for your unwise words despite the fact that you are a daughter of the Zenin family”, he replies.

The way he crosses his legs while smiling down at you arrogantly makes the urge to fall onto your knees and beg him for forgiveness grow louder and louder. But no, this is exactly what he wants. At the moment, all Prince Satoru does is playing and testing you. You can’t allow yourself to be messed with. After all, he has absolutely zero clue about what he is in your old world, that you actually died and reincarnated here. He definitely does know that your life depends on his mercy, though. And that your proposal benefits both of you.

“Why did you decide on marrying me in the first place? Was it because you fell in love with my portrait or rather because your family forced you to choose a wife and you thought I wouldn’t cause trouble because I’m a Zenin, because you considered I would urge to get away from my possessing family as soon as possible?”

Threatening him any further has no use. After all, Gojo is aware of the fact that you know about his hidden talent. Instead, you should focus on things you can actually prove, things that are obvious.

“You are a very loudmouthed young lady. I expected you to be more sublime. As a member of the famous Zenin family, you sure got taught etiquette and obedience from a young age, didn’t you?”

He can’t help himself. Just one look into your glimmering lavender eyes makes him provocative you even further. Of course, every little thing you said is true. Yes, your words are a serious threat on his way to the throne. Yes, his family does in fact urge him every single day to decide on a wife. Your proposal is the best solution for both of you, allows him to carry on with his unbothered life without the responsibility to satisfy his finance’s needs. But still…

“I couldn’t care less about my ancestry, Prince Satoru. All I care about is my own freedom”, you clarify, determination dripping from each and every pore of your face.

“And if you don’t decide on helping me, I have to find another gentleman who suits my requirements better.”

“Another gentleman? You are aware of the fact that I’m the prince, right?”

Out of all the arguments you brought up in this conversation, this one is the one that bugs him the most. Out of some strange reason, the sheer thought of you getting promised to another man doesn’t sit right with Satoru.

“As a prince, you are far above my status anyway. If it weren’t for politics and the reliability when it comes to the advanced weapon technology of my family, I wouldn’t even be considered as your fiancé”, you argue in all seriousness.

“What if I don’t allow you to marry another man?”

“Then I will find my ways to do so.”

“Fine, I will propose to you at the ball this weekend.”

Wait…what? After all the arguments, the discussions and the stinging fact that he stares at you with narrowed eyes, he actually agreed on it? Just when you’re about to thank him and leave, he gets up and opens his full mouth.

“But I want to re-arrange the conditions to suit my needs as well.”

Your pounding heart almost stops inside of your chest. For a moment, you just sit there and stare at him plainly like an idiot. Gojo Satoru, having conditions? This definitely doesn’t sound appealing at all. But do you really have another chance? It might be true that you are able to find another gentleman, the anger of your father will carry on, though. And who knows if he wouldn’t kill you even if you marry another wealthy man. No, this engagement is your best and eventually only option.

“What conditions are we talking about, precisely?”

“Once a week, I am allowed to present you as my fiancée in a way I will decide on my own. As the prince and future ruler of this country, I need to reflect a strong relationship with my future queen to the outside. It has to be credible. Everyone must think that we are deeply in love with each other, Lady (y/n).”

Shivers run down your spine before you’re able to stop them. Just one look into his blue thirsty eyes…This man won’t touch you even in your sleep. Doesn’t he have multiple young women just waiting for a chance to hit on him? Playing his wife for an additional day of the week. How wasteful, considering that you’ll never be more than his fiancée, that this engagement will get cancelled the minute it doesn’t benefit both of you anymore.

“I will fulfil my role over the span our engagement last and accept your addition, Prince Satoru.”

“Great! Now that this is out of the way, let me tell you one last thing.”

Before you’re even able to react any further, he grabs your arm and pulls you close. For a moment, you forget how to breathe, your nose tingling by the exquisite scent that radiates from him. You actually never wondered about the way he smells. But now that he is so close you would be able to touch him, so close that you can feel his breath brushing over the bare skin of your face, heat begins to crawl up your spine. Suddenly you feel like fainting, the immense presence of him standing this closely to you simply taking your breath away.

“If you decide on betraying me by telling anyone about my secret, I will execute you. There are no real feelings between us, I won’t even bat an eyelash.”

“First, make sure you keep your end of the bargain, Prince”, you bite back out of instinct, holding his gaze without any mercy.

Does he really think you’re scared of him? He might be Gojo Satoru, the honoured one, the strongest, the prince of this country. You might have been surprised by the way he grabbed you out of thin air. You are still (y/n), still you.

Instead of backing up, you take another step towards him and grab the collar of his elegant jacket. But you know all of his dirty little secrets, parts of his past and future. You are definitely no one to be messed with as well.

“And make sure you don’t disappoint me.”

You let go of him as sudden as you grabbed him, creating a safe distance between both of you by crossing the room and coming to a stand in front of the exit.

“Send me an invitation to the ball along with a pricy bouquet of lavender flowers. It was an honour to visit you, Your Majesty. I am looking forward to our next meeting.”

One last polite curtsy, one last elegant smile. But just when you’re about to call the waiter in order to open the door for you, it swings open by itself.

And your cheek clashes into something particularly hard.

“Oh no, I am beyond sorry My Lady! I wasn’t aware of your presence!”

That voice…You get greeted by a pair of the manliest hands you’ve ever seen, hands gliding up his definitely toned arms. He lifts you off the ground as fast as you stumbled onto his, arms holding you into place tightly.

“You must be Lady (y/n), what a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Sir Geto Suguru, the steward of Your Majesty.”

“S-Suguru?”

Your widen eyes focus on his face in an instant, heart almost beating out of your chest. All those times you admired his drawing, the way he acted so elegantly. The countless fanfictions you’ve read with this exact first meeting.

Only to end up with him in bed later on.

“That is my name”, the man in front of you replies along with a small laughter.

That smile. That oh so charismatic smile. And that manly smell, a mix of mint and leather. You force yourself to gift him with a smile and create a safe distance between both of you. So this is him, the best friend of Gojo Satoru. Even in this world, you can tell how close they are to each other.

Will it stay like this, though?

“I’m sorry, I must have hit my head a little too heart”, you comment, finally ripping your eyes away from his brown ones.

“Do you know each other?”, the firm voice of Prince Satoru interrupts.

A look into his face tells you that he isn’t amused by this sudden meeting at all.

“I’ve never seen Lady (y/n) apart from the portrait that was sent to you, Prince Satoru. But may I say, you look even more mesmerising in person.”

“Weren’t you about to leave when Sir Geto arrived, Lady (y/n)?”

Gojo smiles at you without his eyes, a cold glare decorating his face that is definitely supposed to intimidate you.

But instead of backing up, you take a risky step towards Geto Suguru and bow oh so sweetly.

“Oh Sir Geto, I don’t deserve your kind words. After all, it is you who is a feast for my eyes. No excuse me gentlemen, I still have lessons to attend. I hope we’ll meet each other again this weekend, Sir Geto. Have a nice week, Prince Satoru.”

Without gifting him another single look, you turn on your heel and walk out the door.

You did it. You convinced him to propose to you. But…is this really what you want? Is Gojo Satoru really what you want? Just the way he stared at you with arrogance dripping from each and every poor. Urgh, you fucking hate him. There’s no way to deny that he’s driving you over the edge. Why on earth does it have to be him? Why not Geto, what about Nanami?

Why does it have to be Gojo Satoru?

“She seems like a really nice young lady”, Suguru comments visibly amused while sitting in your former place.

“What your tongue, Suguru. She will me my fiancé after this week is over.”

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren

@sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls @hellkaiserinphoenix @skylarlyn823

@livmarauder @nothisispatrick300 @haileycannotcometothephonern @xstom @byakuya61085

[deliciousangelfestival]

Sweetest Dreams || B.Barnes - Part 4

Character: mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Finally, it's the right time with the right person. ❤️

Warning: Kidnapped, tortured (only a small part)

Part 1: Echoes Of Revenge

Part 2: Shattered Echoes

Part 3: All The Lies

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

"This is fucked up. Where am I?" Y/N's thoughts echoed in the disorienting haze surrounding her.

Ivan, the orchestrator of her current predicament, stood menacingly before her, a cruel grin etched across his face. "You should blame yourself for being in this condition," he sneered.

Y/N, still grappling with the fog in her mind, pressed for answers. "Where am I?"

Ivan, relishing in his control, delivered the chilling truth. "A hangout place for drug addicts. So if you don't listen to me, the next morning the police will find your body. Overdose."

‘Shit.’ Panic surged within Y/N as she scanned her surroundings, her eyes landing on a lone door – a potential lifeline out of this nightmare.

“Stop thinking about escaping.” Ivan's fingers dug into her chin, forcing her to meet his menacing gaze. “To be honest, I don't want to kill you. Because I need your brain to make money.”

Y/N, defiance burning in her eyes, said, “You think I will agree?”

Ivan leaned in, his breath sending a cold shiver down her spine. “You have to. After you make me bankrupt, I've gained a lot of enemies – elite people who invested their money in the company. And they want their money back.”

“So, you want to return the money to high-influence people rather than those with low income?” Y/N's disdain dripped from her words, her body language betraying a simmering anger.

Unfazed, Ivan smirked, reveling in the power dynamic. Y/N, unable to contain her disgust, spat on his face in an act of defiance. Undeterred, Ivan scoffed, “Those people are small fish. The most important thing is the big whale.”

Infuriated, Y/N spat on his face again, her eyes ablaze with defiance. “Work again with a mastermind who made thousands of families bankrupt? Fuck no.” She turned her attention to the door, silently calculating the risks and possibilities of escape.

Ivan wiped his face with a cloth, savoring the moment with a sinister satisfaction. "I knew you wouldn't agree, but I'll change your mind," he declared with a dark chuckle.

With a snap of his fingers, the dimly lit place transformed into blinding brightness. Y/N, still disoriented, realized she was tied to an electric chair. Someone approached from behind, forcing a mouthguard into her mouth.

Before she could react, her head was jolted by an electric shock, and a muffled scream escaped through the mouthguard, "Mrghh!" Tears streamed down her face as the searing pain coursed through her.

Ivan, reveling in the torment he was inflicting, taunted, "You've made my life hell for a year, Y/N. Now I want to torture you a bit."

Y/N, in the midst of the excruciating pain, wished for a chance to apologize to Bucky if today was to be her last.

"BAM!"

Ivan, caught off guard, exclaimed in surprise. He had been confident that no one knew about this hidden location. However, he was about to learn the extent of Bucky's knowledge of the town.

Bucky stormed in with a powerful kick to Ivan's face, sending him crashing.

“What the fuck?” Ivan spluttered, struggling to stand.

Bucky's eyes fell on Y/N, tied to the chair and seemingly lifeless. Panic and darkness consumed him for a moment as he approached her. "Y/N?"

He lifted her gently, holding her close. "You can't die. I don't know what to do without you."

“Urggh, I'm still alive, idiot,” Y/N weakly replied. Opening her eyes felt like a daunting task, and she couldn't quite believe that Bucky had come to her rescue.

Bucky, overwhelmed with relief, clenched his teeth. His gaze shifted to Ivan, who was still attempting to rise.

He turned to Steve, who had followed him to save Y/N. “Make sure he never sees the sun again.”

Steve nodded, advancing towards Ivan with a determined expression. He swiftly broke Ivan's arm, eliciting a pained cry. “You messed with the wrong person, pal,” Steve smirked, ensuring Ivan faced the consequences of his malevolent actions.

Bucky cradled Y/N, his eyes reflecting worry, anger, and relief. "I've got you," he whispered, vowing to protect her from any further harm.

Bucky, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as she slept in the hospital bed, found himself reflecting on a similar moment from his recent past when he had visited her father.

Her father had looked at him and said, “What a small world.”

Indeed, it was a small world.

Fifteen years ago, Bucky was a teenage boy living alone in a desolate house. His mother had left, and no one bothered with the household chores. His father, Nicholas, was indifferent, unmoved by Bucky's struggles. School was a constant battleground for him, and life seemed monotonous and purposeless.

Then, one day, Bucky noticed his father bringing a guest home. His father never bothered with hospitality, a clue that this visitor wasn't just any guest. It was the first meeting with Y/N's father, a long-time friend of his own father.

Bucky calls him the kind uncle because he worries about Bucky more than his father.

This kind uncle regularly visited, bringing homemade food Bucky gratefully accepted. It was a lifeline in a home where food was scarce.

The kind uncle shared, "I have a daughter your age. I'll bring her next time." However, that promise remained unfulfilled, and it turned out to be the last visit. Bucky later learned that his father had lent the kind uncle money with exorbitant interest, severing their friendship.

It was pivotal for Bucky, revealing the depth of his father's greed and how money could destroy longstanding friendships. The realization left an indelible mark on him, shaping his future goals. Bucky vowed that if he ever became wealthy, he wouldn't burden his friends with the weight of borrowed money.

Then, when he entered university, he met her—the daughter of that kind uncle, Y/N. The revelation brought a sense of purpose to Bucky's life. He witnessed her being taken advantage of by classmates and seniors at the club, prompting him to take a stand and become her shield.

With him by her side, nobody dared to exploit Y/N anymore. Despite her initial annoyance towards him, Bucky saw a cute, angry kitten in her eyes, and teasing her became a daily amusement, injecting excitement into his otherwise mundane university days.

As they transitioned into adulthood, Y/N underwent a transformation. Her style matured, and she exuded newfound confidence, a far cry from her college days, where she often kept her head down.

Bucky enjoyed the challenge when she underestimated him, eventually giving her money because of her work in an investment company. Little did he know that this woman would swiftly elevate him to wealth.

Y/N's unexpected departure left Bucky in a state of confusion. He waited for a month, then three, and finally, six months passed, but she never returned.

The unanswered question lingered: What did he do wrong? His search for her took a year, but when he found her, she revealed that she had used him to rectify his father's mistake, the same father who had caused harm to her own.

Despite the revelation, Bucky didn't care about the past. He just wanted her back. However, Y/N, this stubborn and seemingly heartless woman, refused to yield.

As he watched her sleep, Bucky's hand cradled her cold cheeks. He joined her side, wrapping her in an embrace to ward off the chill. His fingers gently brushed her hair as he stared at the sleeping figure, who had inadvertently disrupted his life since the moment they met.

Bucky didn't harbor hatred; he found perfection in the chaos she brought into his life. The only thing he desired now was for her to wake up and ensure she could never leave him again.

Y/N blinked, momentarily blinded by the morning light streaming in from the window. The female nurse, noticing her awakening, hurried over to assist Y/N in sitting up.

"My dear, you've woken up? You've been asleep for two days," she informed a hint of concern in her voice. The dryness in Y/N's throat confirmed the duration of her unconsciousness.

Two days – no wonder everything felt hazy. Y/N's attention perked up when the nurse continued, "Rest assured, the bad guy has been taken to the police. Your fiancé has been keeping an eye on you for 24 hours."

'Fiancé?'

Y/N's eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. She hadn't realized she had a fiancé. The sliding door opened, revealing Bucky carrying a bucket of flowers. His face lit up with a warm smile upon seeing Y/N awake. "Babe, you're awake," he greeted cheerfully.

The female nurse couldn't help but giggle at the scene. "Yes, and she's healthy. Aww, so romantic, you bring new flowers today." She grinned at the young couple before making her exit.

Bucky chuckled as he placed the flowers in a vase. Y/N couldn't shake off her surprise. He took a seat beside her, brushing her hair gently. "It's the safest way. If everyone knows that you're my fiancée, no one will dare to kidnap you," he explained matter-of-factly.

He pulled her into a tight hug, their bodies sinking into the hospital bed. "Y/N, please don't go. I don't know what I would do without you," Bucky pleaded, his eyes reflecting the exhaustion from lack of sleep. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of the big man pleading.

She gets closer, kissing his forehead. "I won't go anywhere."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, a brilliant smile replacing his earlier plea. Finally, in that small hospital bed with the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering, it didn't matter. Bucky could have the sweetest dreams as long as she was beside him.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@xcaptain-winterx

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@vicmc624

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@mostlymarvelgirl

@musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

@buckybarnessimpp

@charmedbysarge

@almosttoopizza

@sapphirebarnes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You may as well be naked. The bikini barely contains your chest or bottom, ending a bit too low under your stomach for comfort. You look at yourself once in the mirror then hide from even your own view. You sit in the chair, legs bent to your chest as you hug them and shrink down. 

The thrum of the shower finally ends. Mr. Stark sighs loudly as steam escapes through the open door. You wince as he calls your name. “Bring me my damn bag.” 

You slowly get up. You traipse around the room and grab his carry-on bag. You use it to shield yourself as you approach the bathroom. You stay behind the wall and reach around it to offer his luggage. He scowls over at you. 

“Georgie, we’re over the games, aren’t we?” He faces you, leaning on the counter as a towel hangs precariously around his waist. 

“Sir,” you don’t move. You’re too afraid of your own exposure. 

“Get--” 

He reaches past the bag and grabs your arm. You drop it as you stumble into the bathroom and nearly crash into him. He lets go and take you by the shoulders instead, holding you at arm’s length as his eyes rove up and down. 

“Damn, Georgie, Lady Tarzan and all, huh?” He drags his hand down steps closer to tap your ass. The bounce makes you jump. “Pick my shit up. Now.” 

He pinches and turns back to the mirror. You look down and bend to grab his bag. You put it on the counter and as you do, he steps closer, grazing his hand up your thigh, over your ass, and along your back. 

“You may as well just pop the top off, those things aren’t staying under control,” he snickers. 

You recoil and cross your arms over your chest. He laughs as he unzips his bag and searches through the contents. He takes out a comb and runs it through his dark hair, glints of silver catching the light. 

“I know this towel’s not gonna stay in place,” he wiggles his hips and your eyes flick down, catching sight of how he twitches beneath. “But that’s the plan, isn’t it?” 

You back up and he scoffs, “go, have another drink and wait for our friend, Georgie.” He puts the comb down and reaches into the bag again. “Loosen up, baby. You should be thanking me. Not many bosses take their employees on an all-inclusive. Hell, I’m a bit offended you’re not already on your knees.” 

You frown and turn away. Your face and chest are on fire. He whistles and hums, “you make up for it with that view.” 

You retreat into the main room of the suite. You consider another glass of wine but the first only made your stomach swishy. You hover along the edge of the room, unsure. You could grab your phone and call someone. Or book a room of your own. No, even working for Stark you can’t afford that. A flight home would bankrupt you. 

More than anything, leaving means... leaving. You don’t think you would still have if you leave. You could get something else but it would take too long. The cost of a room or flight on top of losing your only income is ruinous. 

Your legs shake as your nerves boil in your stomach. You try to untangle the threads that led to this moment. Why you? Why is Mr. Stark doing this to you? Is he punishing you? 

You feel sick, you shouldn’t have had the wine. 

There’s a knock on the door. You jump. Room service? The bellboy? You hesitate and there’s another rap on the door. 

“Georgie, please, get the fucking door,” Stark sneers from the bathroom. 

You stumble into action. You go to the door and keep yourself behind it as you open it. A tall woman with bronzed skin and golden highlights tilts her head at you. She smirks beneath her glossy lips. 

“Am I in the wrong place? Is Tony here?” She asks. 

“Uh, yes,” you breathe, “...come in?” 

You stand back and open the door, staying behind it. She strides in and you close the door gently. She takes in the room decisively with a crank of her neck and puts down her sparkly purse. She wears a satiny dress with a halter style and her long legs are emphasized by the high arches of her wedges. 

You linger at the door as she faces you with a tweak of curiosity in her brow, “and what are you?” 

“Paigey girl,” Stark emerges, a fluffy white robe tied haphazardly so that it shows his chest. “There you are.” 

“Mm, here I am but...” she narrows her eyes at you. 

“I told you I had a surprise,” he purrs, “isn’t she cute?” 

“She’s... peculiar,” the woman agrees. 

“Paige, Georgie, Georgie, Paige,” Stark gestures between you impatiently, “come on, girls, let’s not play shy. We know why we’re all here. Gotta get that bag, huh?” 

He winks and slaps Paige’s ass. Her lip twitches but she merely smirks again. She pushes her shoulders back and fluffs up her dyed hair. 

“Yes, Tony baby, I know exactly why I’m here.” 

She reaches back behind her neck and unknots the back of her dress. It slackens and she lets it go, revealing her naked and toned body. You gulp and look at the wall in horror. Stark snickers. 

“Go on, I wanna watch the kitty cats play first,” he reaches under his robe, his hand pumping beneath the fabric. “She’s a bit shy so make sure you’re extra nice, Paigey.” 

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader (no pronouns used, but original fic was f!reader)

love. — what is love if not your steady heartbeat in his ear when he thinks you should be afraid?

4.7k words, established relationship, demon/supernatural creatures au, mild angst, very minor humor, bit of fluff?, mentions of blood, so much intimacy (skinship, cheek/stomach kisses), mentions of insecurities, swearing, use of pet names (love, sweetheart)

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: this lowkey just became a character study of demon changmin

THERE WEREN'T MANY INSTANCES where you were afraid for Changmin, nor were there many instances where you were afraid of him. You suspected that he strived to avoid either of said instances, especially regarding the latter. After all the two of you had experienced with one another, it seemed important to him that you could trust him and were not scared. 

It was difficult for him to fully accept that he did not frighten you in some way. Part of that reason, you guessed, was simply his awareness of how others viewed his species.

What was he but a mortal's night terror, a creature of evil?

To him, you should have been sleeping with a stake beneath your pillow—or rather, you shouldn't have had enough trust to sleep next to him at all. 

But several months under your relationship's belt was beginning to ease his concerns. The long drives up and down the state, chasing his strange assignments for work, had slowly become something he could look forward to. Sunshine or rain battering the windows, he would glance away from the dense fog outside to see you holding on desperately to the waking world, or feel your fingers curl around his hand when sleep stole you away. 

Most of the time, it wasn't too dangerous and you didn't mind tagging along with him. You'd grown used to the nomad lifestyle, seemingly content with spending a couple weeks in Moonstone Creek from time to time, and the rest of it with him. 

You loved him; you always made that clear. The ring on your right ring finger was proof that he knew that and reciprocated.

There were always, however, doubts. Changmin always had doubts. 

“—And I'll get that blueberry muffin creamer you liked yesterday, too.” 

Changmin broke out of the bubble he'd trapped himself in at the sensation of your lips against his cheek. This mortal body he had flushed at the feeling, his hand swift to stop you from leaving just yet, like an instinct. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and his face was level with your stomach from the chair he sat in. The hotels you usually stayed at on your routes always came with a desk and chair, so you could work on Moonstone Creek's finances or he could research. He pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your smiling eyes met his and you combed your hand through his hair once, twice. “I'll be back soon. You just keep your head in those books.”

He grumbled something against your stomach—‘I thought college was the last time I'd be pouring over texts’—and your laugh twinkled over his head. He hadn't even been paying attention to the texts he brought; really, his head was elsewhere today. 

“That's your fault for being an anthropology major and for literally chasing down ancient artifacts as your main source of income.”

“That was so unhelpful.”

Another comb through his hair. He could melt. “Just being honest,” you sang amusedly. “Okay, but I should get a move on. All their pastries are gonna be gone, and their danishes smelled really good yesterday.”

He hummed. “Stay safe.” Another kiss. 

Your hand settled at the nape of his neck. “I will. Love you.”

The words warmed in his chest. Just as you were pulling away, his grip tightened for a moment. “You have Clyde?” He couldn't let anything happen to you. 

“Yes—” you patted your jacket pocket, “—Clyde’s where he's always been. And Bonnie?”

“You know she's not moving,” he said, cocking a brow at you. 

You bit your lip through a small laugh and slowly moved toward the hotel room door, shoving your wallet and the room key into your pockets. “Okay. Happy reading then, love.”

“Unhappy reading,” he groaned into his hand, which was followed by your laugh and the door closing behind you. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.

He counted a few seconds in case you had forgotten something, then went over to grab his phone from the nightstand. Settling on the edge of the bed, he pulled up the text thread he had between himself and Sangyeon. 

sangyeon: okay so don't freak out [sent an image]

sangyeon: but i found this lying around my house the other day, and i asked lily abt it and she said yn was on the fence abt showing u

Changmin could recognize your handwriting against Lily's in the picture. The image was a clear scan of a piece of paper, who's centerpiece was that of a house. It was a roughly drawn blueprint of a cottage, something small, cozy, homely. The house, as you outlined, wasn't large at all, but with one full floor, an attic, and a porch. There were notes all around the house in your familiar scrawl, writing about the projected cost of each thing—typical of you to think about practicality, even in your fantasy house blueprint—as well as features you'd like installed, like a fireplace and a porch swing.

It reminded him so much of Sena's house in the suburbs in a way… had you thought about this while you were there? A place you could call home, some place to settle down eventually, and finally have a slice of normalcy?

sangyeon: lily said she coaxed it out of yn, which is why yn didn't want to share it and make it seem like she was forcing u into anything u weren't comfortable w

sangyeon: but i think that u love her enough to hear her out

sangyeon: idk… it's ur call ofc whether or not u want to have that conversation yet

Changmin always had doubts. He'd learned during his time on the mortal plane to slow down and feel the weight of another's emotions, and what inevitably came with empathy was insecurity. 

You loved him; that was why his ring was on your finger and you would never bring up the cottage you confided to Lily about. You loved him, and knew that there was an unmistakable itch in him that could only be scratched when he was able to move, to not be chained to one place. But humans were different from demons, and your experiences were different from his. 

He always had doubts that you might never be fully content with this life he led. 

He sighed, massaging his jaw absentmindedly with one hand. Sangyeon had sent him those messages two days ago when you and he were driving to this sleepy town, tucked away at the foot of a mountain range. You'd been asleep when they were received, which was why you didn't see the notifications. Changmin could do as little then as he could now, and he basically replied to Sangyeon that he would think about it and talk to you. 

At some point. 

That was before he realized that it would be all he could think about. There was no word for 'selfish’ or 'selfless’ in demonic culture. It was either you did something to help yourself or harm yourself—usually, those who didn't act for their own benefit were thought of as weaker willed. It was difficult to dismantle methods of thinking like this in order to view the world and his interactions in a different way. 

Changmin abandoned his phone on the nightstand so that he could step over to the window and shove it open. The lever was rusty and squealed as he cranked it counterclockwise to let in the fresh pine morning and the natural white noise. 

Maybe this would help him focus on work or gain the courage to talk to you when you came back.

Changmin barely glanced up in time to see a blurry mass hurtling toward his face. “Shit.” 

He dropped to the floor.

A gleeful and tinny laugh like the rattle inside an aluminum can filled the room. The spike of shock in his heart was replaced very quickly with red, hot annoyance. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grunted, clambering to his feet, eyes narrowed on the pixie who had invaded his space. “Don't you fuckers ever knock?”

The pixie was only about a foot and a half tall, its translucent, membranous wings fluttering at the speed of a human eye's blink. This one in particular had a pair of orbs as dark as the lowest circles of Hell for eyes and two racks of jagged teeth lining its gums. The pixie buzzed around the room, careful to remain out of Changmin's reach. 

Fuckass supernatural mosquito….

“You hide your true form, demon,” its voice crackled like tin foil. “Naughty, naughty.”

Changmin's nostrils flared. “What's it to you, imp?”

“The darkness that lies deep within you—I can smell it—hear it.” The pixie zipped around the room over Changmin's head, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to clamp his hands around it. It squealed in delight, black eyes going wider and wider as if it could gaze straight into his soul. “What if we open the door, demon? Ah—I smell a human in this room!”

He stiffened. “You’re only smelling my human form,” he bit out.

“Must you need a reminder? I can smell your true form and I can smell lies.” 

Changmin stumbled back as the pixie flew directly in front of his face, then fluttered out of reach before he could snatch the piece of shit out of the air. The organ in his chest continued to hurtle toward overdrive—the pixie could smell you. The pixie could smell you. “I will rip the wings from your back if you even think about touching my human,” he growled. 

The pixie gasped, clapping its tiny, pale hands. “Oh-ho! The claws become you! Won't you show a little more skin, demon?” 

His eyes turned down to his hands, palms turned upward, the tips of his fingers turned an ash gray. Where his chipped fingernails had been, now sat a full set of dagger-sharp claws. He hadn't even realized he'd transformed them. 

“What color does a pixie bleed?” Changmin lunged for the pixie with his claws outstretched. 

The pixie dove out of the way, the claw just barely missing the edge of its leg. “Does your human taste divine?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Not very fun are you, demon?” The pixie whizzed past his ear, behind his head—Changmin whirled about on the ball of his foot. 

He slammed his palm forward, claws denting the plaster, nightstand digging into his thighs. As the pixie rose up toward the ceiling to stay out of harm's way, Changmin climbed onto the bed, determination coursing through his veins. 

“Would you like a riddle?”

Changmin swiped his hand, relishing in the splatter of clear liquid that glittered in the air—blood. The pixie's eyes widened, this time in fear. “Why would I want a riddle?”

A tremble marked the pixie's voice. “Twin halves of old, sealed by a third / like matches, they will spark the world to burn—” Its words were cut off as it swooped out of the way, its clear blood trailing behind it as Changmin's breathing grew heavier, eyes narrowing. “To save three—”

A loud crinkle, akin to a dozen small bones being crushed. A shrill shriek, nails on a chalkboard. A demonic smirk as he clutched a fragmented wing in his clawed hand. 

“You were saying?” he taunted, bringing the flailing pixie close to his face. Changmin couldn't deny the rush of deep, animalistic satisfaction that purred in his chest at his caught prey. Whatever this pixie had in mind for you would never come to fruition. 

“You're a fool to not heed my warning—” it spat, its agony spilling in glittery globs, “—such actions are so true to your species, my liege.”

The impact of the title came accompanied by a flurry of something bright yellow and fuzzy thrown right into Changmin's face. Alarmed, he dropped the pixie and scrambled to claw the dust out of his eyes and mouth. He spluttered and spat the substance onto the hotel room floor; upon hands and knees, he tried desperately to get ahold of his bearings. 

What the fuck was this stuff?

He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears, feel the transformation taking place. There was energy going toward places on his body to grow extremities he hadn't seen in years. 

No, no, no—

Changmin gagged on the pixie's dust, its acrid taste a reflection of the bitter effects to show. He screwed his eyes shut—willed his body to take control of itself. When his hands went over his head, he swore at the feeling of the twin horns curling out of his crown. 

Every one of his once-human senses were dialed to eleven. Voices and car motors and leaves crunching bombarded his ears; the intricately disgusting layers of odors in the carpet separated themselves beneath him. The sensations overwhelmed him from disuse. He held his head in his arms, panic weighing down and around his bones. 

When the transformation was complete, he was left in haggard breaths. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then to brace against the hotel bed. 

The pixie was gone, naturally, and likely escaped out the window from where it came in. 

Changmin splayed his clawed hands beneath him on the white sheets. 

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind and reign in the sensations to focus on the most important ones. Everything else could be background for now; all he needed was—was that. 

There—it was faint, but approaching by the second. Humming.

It was a soft, familiar sound that curled around his taut spine with the tenderness of a lover's caress. A heartbeat followed, slow but steady and sure. The pattern was also familiar, accompanied by leisurely footsteps and the smell of dark coffee and pastries. 

If he could just focus on those sensations in particular…

Then the thought hit him like a truck. 

That was you. The voice, the heartbeat, the footsteps.

You would return at any moment and see him in this state. Changmin could practically feel the fear that would roll off you in waves (or was that his own?), and he lunged for the bathroom. 

He stumbled into the dark chamber, fearing the reflection he'd find in the mirror should he turn the light on. The door slammed shut behind him and that darkness enveloped him. 

There was your heartbeat again—ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—still faint, but becoming clearer. 

Slowly, he raised his head up to face the mirror on the bathroom wall. The dooming sense of acceptance dulled his own reaction. 

Twin horns, onyx in color, curled out from the tufts of his hair, hard and unmistakable. His skin had taken on the grayish tint of his kind from the black blood that now ripped through his veins. There were the claws, of course, and the slim, wiry tail speared at the end with a sharp spade and a mind of its own. Fangs, jagged and like small knives, peaked their points out past his lips, and he snapped his mouth shut to keep the forked tongue from tasting air. His eyes had become that of a predator's, the pupils dark as night and slimmer in shape—all the better for a deeper field of focus. 

In Hell, the consistent lack of bright light made it so that pinpoint eyes were sought after; it was better to see in the dark and pick apart the deep shades of red, black, purple, and blues. And, well, any sudden movement. 

Changmin didn't know why he tried to fool himself into thinking keeping the bathroom lights off would change anything. 

Your heartbeat was coming closer, louder. His breathing was beginning to even out as he matched his own to the sound of air rushing through your trachea, then exhaling through your nose. 

He could get himself back to his human form before you got back. He could do it—he swore he could. 

Focus.

It required so much focus and energy, but… but he could do it. He could do it before you saw him like this, before that calm heartbeat became erratic, and you became afraid—afraid of him. 

His breathing deepened as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen. In… out. 

Going from demonic form to human form in the mortal plane would be easy. 

It should have been easy. 

Seconds passed, and your footsteps approached from down the hall. There came the crinkle of a paper bag, shuffling of cardboard, as you shifted things in your hold to grab the room key from your pocket. The aroma of the pastries and coffee you brought back wafted into his nose, but not with the strength that your scent permeated every one of his senses—

Why couldn't he shift back? 

He curled his hands into fists on the counter, frustration making his fangs scrape against each other. 

Why wasn't he able to shift back? It was supposed to be easy—

The door outside clicked open and fell shut. “Changmin? Hey, I'm back.”

He stilled. The words to call back to you were lodged in his throat, unable to form upon the accursed forked tongue in his mouth. Panic seized him by the ribcage and he suddenly found it suffocating to breathe. 

There was silence on your end, and he could hear your heartbeat slowly begin to quicken. “Are you—are you okay? The wall's dented, and the—and the sheets…” 

Your footsteps arrived before the bathroom door, and at the same time he heard the door handle jiggle, he slammed his hand against it to bar you from coming in. 

Changmin could feel your leap of fright; his shoulders sagged with regret. It probably wasn't the best idea to do that. “Don't—” he cleared his throat from the grittiness there, “—don’t come in.”

Your heartbeat calmed then, after hearing back from him. “I won't,” you promised. “Is everything okay?”

I look like a monster. Some dumb fucking pixie made it so I can't shift forms. And I can't lock the stupid door because my nails are too long. 

But you didn't need to know all of that. 

He hung his head, attempting to feel that tendril of power in him that he could grapple onto to trigger the transformation. Nothing. “I'm… I'm fine,” he choked out. “I—” 

The corded necklace that was hidden beneath his shirt swung out into his view. His half of the pendant was not pulsing with life like yours was; it was connected to your heart, after all. But he curled his fingers around it nonetheless, his ears singling out your pulse. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum...

“... Changmin? Can I do something to help?”

He needed time. Fuck, he just needed to wait this stupid pixie dust out. His first thought was to send you away so you wouldn't see him at all. The next was a counter to the former—he needed your pulse. That was his anchor. 

The energy was slowly seeping from his bodily stores to sustain this form in this realm. Maybe if the pixie dust didn't wear off, he could tire his body into transforming. 

Your voice came out even softer. “Hey, what's going on, love?”

His forehead hit the door, eyes fluttering shut. “I'm not… I don't look like myself right now.” The self you're used to, at least. “A pixie came into the room and—and it threw something at me to force me to transform.”

“Into…?”

There was a light thump sound from the other side of the door as you leaned against it. Your warmth radiated through the wood, and the little monster inside him leaned into it. “My demon form.”

Changmin loathed the silence, your held breath. The acceptance washed over him in a deafening wave like his head was being held underwater. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, finally. “That’s okay… and so you're not able to turn back, is that it?”

His eyes couldn't help but narrow. “You're not scared.” The scent rolling off you wasn't that of fear. 

“Why would I be scared of you?”

Changmin's breath shuddered. There were plenty of reasons for you to be scared once you saw him. This body was made to harm. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“I'm not scar—”

“I could hear it from the street, Yn.” He didn't know what to do about the leap in your pulse, the way that steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum tripped over itself. Something at the back of his mind urged him to continue—to tell you everything and convince you to be scared. “I can feel the heat from your blood and smell the hotel soap on your skin.”

A beat passed. “That doesn't scare me.”

If you were anyone else, he would have laughed in your face. Foolish, foolish human. But you weren't just anyone else, and he couldn't get your terror out of his head. 

When he didn't say anything for a moment, you murmured, “Love, can I come in? Can I see you?”

Changmin swallowed. “I don't want to scare you.”

“I know—but I trust you.” Your hand warmed the door handle on the other side, the soft clink of his ring against the metal echoing through the material to reach him. “Do you trust me?”

(If demons ultimately were motivated to do things that would help them, then he should open the door. To his brethren, a human willingly walking into his clutches was a mark too easy not to lose. But the reason they would want you to come in through the door was nowhere near the same reason he wanted you to. 

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

He leaned his weight off the door. 

With his body mostly hidden behind the slab of wood, he carefully cracked the door open, his claws wrapped around the outside, so you would be fed his demonic form gradually. You'd seen the claws before when he'd gouged a siren's eyes out. But your eyes drank in the ashen skin around his features—death incarnate—from the slits of his irises to the spirals of ebony piercing out of his head. 

Your heartbeat took off, galloping wildly as he revealed more and more of himself while you stepped into the bathroom. The thunderous rush of your blood echoed in his own ears; it was a tantalizing sensation. 

There was a nervousness to your movements. Your lips were tight, hands slightly shaky. But above all else, your eyes remained tender and worried, and he might have fallen to his knees if he wasn't clutching the door. 

“Do you want to close the door?” You asked. 

Even now, you wanted to accommodate him. He gave a small nod, but added, “Can you—can you turn around?”

You dipped your head once, then turned your back to him. 

(So much trust… When did he earn all of this? From what did he deserve to have your back to him in this context? He could slit your throat in a blink, but you would throw yourself into Hell if he asked.

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

Changmin closed the bathroom door and swallowed everything into darkness once again. He could hear your shallow breathing; you were trying to keep it steady, because you knew he could hear it as clear as a bell, but it wouldn't fool him. 

He took a step closer—then faltered, as he reached a hand out for your shoulder. He retracted his hand to his side. “You can turn around.”

Eyes watched as you slowly turned your body back around. You were fidgeting around with his ring, twisting the dark metal back and forth, as you lifted your eyes up and down his form. 

There was that catch in your breath again. Changmin's shoulders were so tense, he couldn't decide if that was from how high-strung he was or from the energy steadily being spent from his body. He'd probably last about another hour or two before collapsing. 

The bathroom was deafeningly quiet, with only your breaths and heartbeat keeping his insecurities company. He wanted to shrink into the collar of his shirt under your gaze, eyes blown wide as the moon. As you soaked him in, his eyes roved over your face—searching, searching, searching. 

At last, you tried for a soft smile. “You don't scare me.”

“I don't?” But he couldn't smell fear on you, couldn't make out any clear displays of it. He'd looked for them all. Your heartbeat had calmed, but your expression had never lost that something. 

(Was this love?)

You stepped forward once, and then again, until you stood with your toes touching and noses almost brushing. You shook your head and reached up to brush your thumb against his cheekbone. 

So warm… so gentle. 

His fangs gleamed in the dark when his lips parted. “You've been through so much,” he croaked. “Don't I look like them?” Them, the few creatures who had made you go on the run in the first place? Did creatures like him not haunt your waking world and nightmares? How could you bear to sleep next to him at night?

“If you're trying to convince me you're a monster, then it won't work.” Your fingers trailed down the plane of his face and he reached up to grasp onto you before you could retreat. “Does it hurt?”

At that question, he couldn't help the small, raspy laugh that bubbled out of his chest. 

“What?” You asked, the corners of your mouth lifting upward. 

“It's no—” he shook his head, his tongue darting out to slip over his lips. His fingers rearranged around yours and held them close to his chest, his thumb finding the familiar characters of his name wrapped around your digit. “—nothing. I just… you still care.”

Confusion flickered over your face, but was swiftly replaced by something softer. “Of course I still care.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You could have hurt me a long time ago.” But you haven't. 

Changmin swallowed again, relishing in the warmth that radiated from your palm wrapped in his. “No, it doesn't really hurt,” he whispered. “I just can't sustain this form for very long.”

Your eyes shone. “How long?”

“A couple hours at most,” he said, fangs grazing his lip. “I'm trying to wait out the pixie dust—”

“Pixie dust? Aren't you supposed to be flying?” Your grin was flooring, but he managed not to falter. At his deadpan expression, you patted the back of his hand. “Sorry, don't get your horns in a twist.”

“Yn—”

“It was right there; I had to.” 

Even he couldn't suppress the curl of lips for long. He just… Hell, he just loved you. Even if he now had slits for pupils and knives for teeth, nothing could mistake the blatant fondness in his features. His eyes could be pitch black, but he would still find a way to express silently how much he adored you. 

You pursed your lips, the mirth leaving your face for a second. “Do you need blood? How long until the pixie dust wears off?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm not taking your blood.” He sent you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to retaliate. “It's like you have a death wish from the amount of times you've offered me blood. I'm not dying, sweetheart.”

“You could be…”

“Technically, I'm undead—”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, whatever.” Your nose wrinkled up for a second, and then you were wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his shirt. “You’re still Changmin to me. You're still the guy I'm in love with.”

His arms came around your form and he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, careful to keep his horns from hitting you. He suffocated himself on the feel of your skin, the subtle bump in your pulse just beneath the surface. Despite everything, you still trusted him enough to put his teeth so close to your scars. You didn't run away from him, from the true him. 

(Was this love?)

He wanted to hold you here forever. His human. “I love you.”

Your body tensed in surprise, and it nearly chased him away until you squeezed him tighter. He felt your lips against the place his human heart would have been. Changmin always had doubts, but you were so good at calming them. “I know.”

And haven't you always known?

Changmin had known, too, even if he'd searched long and hard for the doubt. All this time of sharing your space, your warmth, your company—he knew. 

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @bjnet

[whalesforhands]

kaizen daycare! 3

previous masterlist next

“Are ya gonna follow us home t’day?” Megumi rubs at his little eyes as his puppy-themed socks come to a stop before you, trying to stifle an incoming yawn. He sounds hopeful, dare you even say, excited.

“Daddy said you were gonna eat at our house too.” He’s suddenly holding his arms up towards you, asking to be carried as he awaits with still half-opened eyes.

“Oh? Megumi-kun, are you excited about moving in?” You’re bending down, your hands picking him up and supporting his weight, letting the child’s head loll and rest against your chest. His cheek squishes against you, a sleepy comfort overtaking him once more now that he’s in your arms.

“Mn.” You feel him press his ear against your heartbeat, smiling at the steady, slow vibration, his innocent eyes already starting to close once more as he cuddles himself against you, getting comfortable in your embrace. “I just wanna see you there…” His words trail off with his sleepy haze, going limp in your hug as he finally falls back asleep.

You feel a blush overtake you at his words, the gentle chime of a nursery lullaby flowing into your ears, accompanied by the adorable snores of your other children as you sat upon a nearby cushion with a sleeping Megumi in your arms. So cute.

Maybe it was a good idea to accept their family’s invite afterall?

——

Sometimes, you’re utterly at a loss for words at a certain trio within your class. Even as Mimiko sips on a cup of milk whilst sitting on your lap, Nanako humming, sprawled out on the floor next to you and drawing with her plethora of crayons and Megumi playing with the toy trucks by his sisters.

(“Hmm…” Mimiko leans back, staring up at you, hands fiddling with her now empty milk carton. She’s always been one to speak her mind.“(name)-sensei…”

“Mm?” You look down at her, snapping out of your dazed out trance, your fingers that were mindlessly combing through her hair stopping abruptly.

She doesn’t respond, her eyes scrutinizing you as you give her the moment to collect her words. Is something wrong? Did her milk taste bad? You had the same one, you don’t think—

“You’re so pretty.” Just as pretty as her Papa and Daddy. Maybe even more? She’d have to ask her plushies one by one later on who they think is the winner. She’s betting on you.)

“Nanako-chan, do you need me to call him? It isn’t like your Papa to be late…”

“Nope!” She pops the ‘p’ as she skips over to her cubby. “It’s realllll good that we’re the last ones left, and so earlyish! Pap— We thought we were gonna have to wait longer!!” She digs around the frog themed backpack, her tongue stuck out in concentration before she pulls out her phone.

Her very expensive, high-tech, latest in the market phone that was leagues better than yours and probably costed around an entire month of your salary. “Papa said to just text him if he’s late, and Daddy’ll come zooming the fastest around!”

That was approximately 4 minutes ago.

“(name)-sensei, (name)-sensei! I drew this for you!” A sheet of A3 paper is thrusted into your face, a burst of colour that dyed your eyes in fascinating intrigue as they slowly focus in on the drawing.

Matching blonde and brunette bobs, right next to a darker ponytailed brunette and spiky black. Shiny, smiley faces that were drawn on with an attempt to scribble the characters of their names just above them.

Though, that wasn’t the main focus. You notice 3 more figures upon the paper, characterized by neon-blue crayon for eyes, another having long shadowy black for hair… And the unmistakable pink of your apron you wore for work.

(You can’t even deny that it’s you. You saw her peeking over and trying to see and copy down your name embroidered onto the top of your apron.)

“That’s a wonderful drawing, Nanako-chan! What made you want to add me in?” Megumi and Mimiko have now gathered near you, squeezing in under your arms to stare at their sibling’s art work.

“That’s cause we love (name)-sensei a wholeeeeeee lot!” She draws a circle in the air with her arms, the widest circumference she can go. “Wayyyyy more than this!”

We…? Why, you feel flattered— A knock at the door sounds, a boisterous voice disrupting your train of thought.

“Daddy’s here!”

——

“But Nanako wants to sit on (name)-sensei’s lap!” A pouty complaint as she tugs on her dad’s jacket, narrowed brown squinting up at him as she hugs her frog plushie backpack close to her.

“Nope!” The grown man makes an X cross with his arms. “Papa’s gonna have my head if you’re not in your booster seat.”

“Then you sit in the back and Nanako will drive!” She’s determined to be able to be next to you on this short drive back.

You’re already helping Megumi buckle himself into the booster seat, a sleeping Mimiko all strapped in as her soft breaths are barely heard. You notice the soft, chubby fingers that rests themselves over your hand just as you were about to pull away.

“Hmm? Megumi-kun, what’s wrong?” He says nothing as he stares at your hand, eyes downcast and as if too conflicted to let go. “I dwon’t want you to go…”

You think you’re going to die from cuteness.

“I’ll be with you real soon, okay?” You ruffle his hair, watching as he grunts lightly at the sensation before he lets you go.

It isn’t long before Gojo gets his blonde daughter to behave and obediently settle next to her siblings, hugging her plushie close as she receives a wave from you from outside.

It’s just you and their other father now.

“Gojo-san, thank you for offering me to drive me back.” You’re smiling up at him, oh so innocently. It almost makes him want to—

“Sa. To. Ru.” You feel a tap to your nose at the last syllable. “We’re gonna be neighbours, aren’t we?” He sends you a charming wink. “Plus, I don’t mind driving you back. I’d even it rather be a regular occurrence, if you left it up to me.”

(S-so forward! Isn’t he scared of what his husband will think?! Driving another adult around so casually in his car!)

“That isn’t necessary at all, Gojo—“ You see him pout, his cheeks starting to puff up. “Sa…Toru-san. You really don’t have to.”

“Hmm.” He leans in— Almost intimately close as you back off slightly, your back coming into contact with his car. Vibrant blue stare into your own, as you tilt your head in innocent confusion.

“You know, (name).” His voice trace over your name with such a deep, almost fulfilling tone that makes your heart stir. “I’m been kind of worked up lately.”

An arm that extends past, lightly brushing your hip as he gets the door for you. Except… He doesn’t seem to be opening it anytime soon, choosing to box you in between the car and his body. “You could say that I’m even a little… Excited.”

(“Oh? I suppose it is a little nerve wrecking to have a guest over when you just move in.” You nod, ignoring the warmth that was exceedingly close to your waist, your gaze still holding his own intense orbs. “Even I wouldn’t dare to invite someone over when I’ve barely got everything set up yet, so I get you, Satoru-san.”

He blinks, the tension diffusing in mere seconds before he starts breaking out into a boisterous laugh, tilting his head downwards towards the ground and a hand over his mouth.

“Ahaha! That’s right, sensei!” You’re so cute.)

——

“Hello!” A sparkling set of eyes and rocking feet, hands clenched into excited fists that pump into the air. “Welcome to our new house!” A little girl no older than 3 or 4 appears in front of you, her brown hair fluttering with her bouncy joy that radiates off of her in waves.

“My name is Tsumiki! I like drinking strawberry milk and being praised!” She ends her introduction with an eager V-sign, bright teeth out in a grin and eyes upturned into the cutest little crescents, before she flattens her arms at her sides, bowing to you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“My, you’re so polite.” You lean over to pat at her head, your bag long placed on top of the counter at their genkan. “I’m (nam)—“

“(name)-sensei! You live in the apartment right next to us, you work at the kindergarten my brother and sisters go to, you’re super, suuuuper sweet like kikufuku mochi and, and—!” Her eyes are sparkling more intensely, practically reflecting a constellation of her thoughts as she looks up at you. “And you’re even super, super pretty!”

(Even prettier than all the other times she’s seen you.)

You’re honestly at a loss for words right now. How much are you talked about here…?

“Mmm, but I suppose calling you sensei when you aren’t my sensei is a little strange, right, sensei?~” She’s strangely playful, big grin and eyes that gleamed with something you can only describe as a yearning want.

She taps her chin in thought, eyes averting to the side and upwards as if in deep thought. “Ah!” She claps her hands together. “Can I call you Mama?”

(W-whaaaaaat?! So upfront!)

“Please, please?” She’s already wrapped her arms around your legs, her pouty, mischievous eyes pleading up at your blushing form, her head buried into your tummy as she’s on her tiptoes.

You’re blushing hard— Your eyes swirling with bashful shyness that makes you so, so nervous. Sure, she’s adorable— So forward and so cute pleading you like this…! You did always tell yourself that you wanted kids—

“Now, now Tsumiki. You’re teasing our poor guest too much.” A tut and a ruffle of her head from behind as an all too welcomed figure appears.

“Papa!”

“Geto-san…!”

“I’m sorry. She takes after Satoru a little too much in that sense.” She turns his gaze downwards. “Tsumiki, help me set the table, please.”

“Okay!” And she patters off, socked feet against the wooden floors as she skips away. “Talk to you later, Mama!”

(Ohhh… You feel like you’re going to burn up from gratified embarrassment… You like the way it sounds but it’s so embarrassing—! Especially when she’s not your child…!)

“No, no, Geto-san. It was lovely being able to talk with her! You raised all your kids so well!” You’re gushing as you talk to him, a hand pressed over your stuttering heart, letting him lead you around, not even noticing the hand that had intertwined with your own as you lost yourself to your overactive mind.

“I sometimes wish they were my own.” You’re turning sheepish, body turned slightly to face his with the still all too cute, all too adorable smile of yours. He stops in his tracks, fingers closing in on your face to brush a strand of your hair back, the graze of his skin against yours makes you shiver in a sense of delight… It always felt strangely— Good whenever he does this.

(He can make that happen, you know?)

“Trust me, sensei—“ He feigns a tired sigh, pulling away, causing your shoulders to slump in visible disappointment, much to his adoration. “They can be up to no good if they want to be.”

Now that you’re actually in their house, it definitely feels a little high class. Their cushions that looked and felt like they were too out of this world, their curtains looking a little glamorous… Not to mention how amazingly soft the couch you were sitting upon felt…

You were so sure you passed by your own apartment next to theirs not too long ago. Now you’re not even sure if you’re even living in the same realm of possibility…

“Dinner’s about to be finished up. Do you mind waiting a bit?”

“If you don’t mind,” You tilt your head to the side as you watch him. “I could lend a hand.”

——

“Gumi, c’mere.” Tsumiki beckons her younger brother towards her, the little boy waddling over with his towel wrapped around him, dripping with water as he holds onto his sister’s hand.

(It’s normal for them to wash up a little bit before dinner, they’ll take their bath later.)

“Don’t they look like a marriage?” A proper one. Like in those late-night soap operas one of her Mother’s ‘friends’ used to leave on. The way Papa is smiling as you taste test his cooking, the way Daddy tried to eat whatever you touched, the way you all laughed in an emotion that cannot be anything else but utter joy.

“Get— Suguru-san, I think it needs a little salt.”

“Mm, is that so?” He doesn’t even hesitate to place his lips onto the spoon you had just used, tongue peeking out to lick up any leftover remnants that could be there. “It might be the lack of dashi stock. I need to go to the market soon.”

“Oh, there’s one nearby, I could show you—“

“Suguru! No fair! I wanna taste too!”

“Aren’t you meant to be helping the kids dry off, Satoru?”

“Mmm, I will if I get fed!” He opens his mouth towards you, “Pleaseeeeee? I’m getting hungry!”

You’re the one. Tsumiki knows you are. She just does. Her grip on the door frame tightens ever so slightly, a twinkle of longing, of yearn in her gaze.

“Better than Mother ever looked with any of those men…”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

It’s very important that you do not leave the nap room for very long during naptime. You went out to do some administrative work and you came back to a crying Mimiko that was biting into her plushie, trying to silence herself so as to not disturb the rest while she huddled into a corner and silently wailed for you.

“(name)-sensei…! D-don’t leave Mimiko again…!” Her tears are soaking into the front of your apron, her small hands gripping onto the fabric of upon your shoulders as she clung onto you. Desperate, scared.

The other children do not like it when you’re not around. Stay in the rooms with them.

“Aww, I thought I heard something from outside. Was it you, Megumi?” Geto Suguru soon scoops up a blank, sleepy little boy dragging a blanket in.

“Oh? What do you have in your hands for me, Gumi? It’s—“ He continues to smile. “Are those my… Contact lenses? Thank you very much…” The transparent item is plopped onto Suguru’s open palm, a silent Megumi burying his face into his father’s chest soon after.

What a peculiar child.

[cucumberteapot]

I feel like people aren't as open to discussing E-42 Prowle because there is so much about the character we don't know or the films haven't explicitly told us yet. However, I'd like to think writers have presented us with enough information that we can make a strong assessment as to not to what kind of role they'll serve (I think it's fair to say Miles G is going to be an antagonist later-turned hero or anti-hero in BSTV), but what kind of character this is and how they challenge Miles as the main character.

I'd like to discuss one crucial aspect of piece of body language and physical characterisation. This right here:

This is our first proper shot of E-42 Prowler and it closely parallels Aaron Davis in then first movie when he's watching Miles run away.

Now I want to pay mind that in deliberately holding off the plot twist of Aaron being the Prowler, the audience is given no key identifiers as to the Prowler's true identity. He doesn't even have any lines of dialogue until Miles is hiding in his apartment and we after we get the reveal. In every sense of the term, Prowler is a gun for hire. Except he doesn't use guns. The point is he is a hitman. He consistently does what he's told by Kingpin - "You can count on me, sir. I don't ever quit." But then when he's confront with the reveal of the kid he's been hunting is his own nephew and he must choose between his identities as Aaron and as Prowler, that loyalty is severed and it costs him his life.

Which leads us to this specific visual of E-42 Prowler dangling from the rafter before dropping down to face Miles. The camera doesn't cut away from how he drops. Instead we're put entirely in Miles' perspective as to this guy's every move. Between us and Miles, the crew don't want us to miss anything. So what are we seeing here?

Well firstly I think it's clear this is something the Prowler we know wouldn't do because this is a merge of personas of Miles as the Prowler and as a 15-year old. This reads to us as something a lanky kid would do on a jungle-gym, and the fact E-42 Prowler doesn't take his eyes off Miles not only demonstrates curiosity but almost an invitation to play. Not literally, but I believe this Prowler is someone who likes to toy with their victims (which he see a bit of towards the end). And in this case, Prowler is definitely testing Miles from the moment he starts talking about ideas counteractive to his reality - That Aaron Davis could be a "good guy" and that the Prowler identity is something detrimental to the E-42 dimensions' existence. Granted, Miles is speaking from the experience of someone who's Prowler didn't provide income for their family and represent a symbol of strength like the Spiderman identity, so it's a no brainer E-42 Prowler views Miles as antithetical to his state of being. Another thing is that this is how Miles hangs from his webs throughout the movie (under the clocktower, before going through the portal to mumbattan, etc.), so it's a nice consistent characterisation between the two.

But that only leads us into what separates them. After keeping their focus directly on the other, they have their first exchange:

Prowler: Your dad is still alive? Miles: What? Prowler: Your father... You said he's still alive. Miles: Yeah. Prowler: Oh.

Okay, let's dissect this. Specifically Miles' confusion at to why Prowler's asking this because the audience is in the same boat but for very different reasons.

Now I don't want to make assumptions but even before Prowler unmasks, Miles already knows it's his counterpart and his question isn't so much as not knowing but a request for confirmation. However the reason why Miles is confused here is because he expected that same curiousity about identity from his counterpart - not about relatives. Prowler doesn't ask who Miles is even though he doesn't really know, and when he gets his answer that, yes, Jefferson is alive in the other universe, his reaction is played off as dismissive, separating his identity and priorities from Miles. Whatever it is, considering it's the first thing he's asks, this is a vital piece of information for Prowler but his reaction removes any possibility he can be negotiated with... which Miles continuously fails at.

Miles: Who are you? Prowler: My name is Miles Morales. But you... You can call me the Prowler. Miles: If I don't get home, our dad is going to die. Prowler: Your dad. Miles: Please... You have to let me go. Prowler: And why would I do that?

That then leads us on to Miles' question because he's not only asking for his kidnapper's name, he's asking for who this person is. And in turn who we see isn't particularly angry or vindictive - we'll get to that. Instead, Prowler's expression is complete desolation.

It's only when Miles further insinuates they are the same by referring to Jefferson as "our dad", does he shoot back with "your dad". It's quick because this Prowler is still separating himself from this version of himself and the idea he could or would've been or had anything like his life. Finally Miles accepts that they are separate and ask Prowler to let him go, but Prowler has another rhetorical question which implies although he considers this Miles separate to himself, he still has use for him somehow. Which honestly if you had this strength-is-all mindset, it might feel rewarding to have captured this part of yourself that you considered weak - which for all Prowler knows, Miles is just this inferior version of himself who got decked in one hit.

And then lastly we have these two shots here where Prowler raises his "claw" beside Miles' head and sizes him up.

If Aaron can scare Miles by punching the sand out of a boxing bag while Prowler only has to put his fist on it, you tell me who's more terrifying?

But truthfully this last non-conversational exchange before Miles stares Prowler back down is evident that not only is Prowler going to beat the shit out of Miles, but that Miles' "flippy, little sassy jokes" as Spot puts it, is not going to help him here. Because if he wants to survive, he's going to have to match Prowler's energy. This film has a bittersweet ending not because Miles is captured but because Miles has internalised what he's been fighting against the whole movie - The emotional desolation of being Spider-man that lets them deal with or appear indifferent to the harm or death of people around them and it's exemplified when he applies Peter's first lesson of being Spider-man:

"Don't watch the mouth. Watch the hands."

[crying-fantasies]

Uncharted territory

Humans are weak, like, weak like the pit, one can just push or grip a little too hard and discover that they don't squish, they pop, and it's messy, Thundercracker has never once do such thing but he has seen the dark red spots in the servos or overall armor of his former decepticon comrades, or that real freak, as in Skullcruncher, that had some on his intake and relating it to rust sticks before Hook had his head for doing such an stupid thing as corrosion started to do it's own job.

Humans have always been quite simple to his optics, their colorful and mobile textiles flow with their movement, what they call skin only shines when they sweat and then they are a little interesting which is frowned upon by other humans and some cybertronians look at it with unbounded disgust, he has seen some use gold in their bodies like wasteful creatures, for a moment he compared their vanity to Starscream's, what he could give to have some gold flakes on his basic energon rations after decades without a real taste.

Then there was Marissa, and her assistant, and her comrades that includes her assistant, and they aren't so bad once he got to know them better, Marissa's optic catching red helm that goes down in curls is one of the main things he gets to notice her in the literal ocean of millions of humans, now Thundercracker is sure her EM field wave is familiar enough to tell she is near by meters.

Then there is Buster, and Buster can do no wrong, he can feel her a mile away and detect her in the same way if, Primus forbid, she ever strays in an ocean of dogs, perfect little beans of love really but one can compare to his good girl.

And then there is you, dull and weary human you are like majority, you make him remember Lo Surrounding, a character in his last script that just goes along with the environment but has a very deep background, you are a lot like that one, but so different still as he answer another question you have about why he is blue and why Skywarp is purple, he is about to answer that he wasn't like this before but bites his glossa to refrain his extensive explication, back in Vos one could refer to a mech as attractive and handsome if his paint job was good enough, a good fortune was required too, and if Thundercracker hasn't been exposed to the rest of things on Cybertron he would still believe Starscream was the top of the food chain and still believe he took his image well.

His paint job is good, but still reminds him of Starscream.

Shiny paint job, nice and wide wings, powerful back, arms and support struts, a nice and balanced income of shanix, good living quarters, a handsome faceplate, he would hear all of that back in the academy as the most desired prospect of a partner, even a conjunx if one is lucky enough.

Then remember that you've your own outburst of color, even if it those aren't yours.

Don't take him wrong, he likes how you can blend easily with what is around you, it's funny to see you around without talking to no one and then saying something smart out of nowhere, he thinks your antics are funny, but he isn't making fun of you, that's his hardly expressed meaning when you ask why he is smiling like a century old youngling in your way before trying to hide it drinking down energon to make you forget about it.

Blend with your environment, take it to your advantage, using it to get important documents from one place to the other without no one interrupting your mission, even if it's just paperwork, having extra time so he can talk your ear off with a new idea popping on his processor about Lo and her spy master abilities that have nothing to do with you, why are you asking? No, he is not using you as a reference to his work but is still grateful that you like it, and the possible romantic progress between Lo and his new main protagonist, but that's something for another day.

Lo and you are low-key, not eye catching, not attention center, and Thundercracker likes that, it's easy to talk with you once he finds where you're, and maybe this one occasion wasn't the best as this one time you were really hiding and he gave your location to people you didn't want to greet that very specific day.

He didn't mean it, and he is so sorry for it, and he believes something really awful is happening to you when he hears you groan in pain, stress and annoyed beyond your limits, he knows Marissa, she would never do someone bad to you, but he has to hold Buster to calm him down, and also to see her in that little cute attire with a ribbon on top with more detail before looking at you again once you're back from that closed room.

In all honesty he feels better when you say that he didn't know, that it wasn't his fault, and Thundercracker has a hard time focusing on your words because there is just so much he can take, all attention focused in that attire you're using, um, dressing.

So pretty, how it goes along your natural organic frame's crevices and curves, a little loose and a little too tight here and there, your expression is one of boredom, of exhaustion, he can't really focus too much on it but in how the little trinkets shine just right if you even move to try and hold less weight on your uncomfortable looking ped protector which looks more like a weapon than a real shoe, very mindful of that colorful thing on your lips that resembles dried energon.

You are so pretty, all shiny, pretty and dangerous as sharp weapons lie at your disposition, his spark vibrates with barely contained excitement of having you in front of him, showing off in front of him even when he knows very well you're here against your own liking to please other organics, but that's just right, having you bless them with your presence is more than enough to die with a happy feeling, the light doing a fine job to make you stunning beyond belief.

Makes him so enamoured beyond himself.

Are this the so rumored bubbles or whatever the humans feel in their tanks? Is this it? He never wants for it to go away as you give him a tired look before someone talks in your direction, and his perfect viewing spot is broken as you go to that human with the grace of a soldier limping out of a murderous battle.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before everyone else starts looking at you too.

And, yeah, he is fine with it, he really is, it's not like he wants your attention back, or that he really wishes you would notice or say something about his new finish, or if you noticed that he waxed himself, trying to match your own light, but so little time can bring him barely time to prepare himself.

You are poised so elegant in his optics, and he looks like he just got out of recharge and tried to look composed, in reality looking like a mess, if Starscream was here he would nag him endlessly, if Skywarp was here he would make fun of him, maybe if Skywarp felt his occasional ounce of pity he would try to help him end his wax job before going out there again to try and win your attention, because humans guide themselves in what they look, and if they like how it looks, how that other person looks, if it checks all the boxes just right, when all it would be needed for Thundercracker to let you know that he is right there is to flash his biolights at you.

Humans don't work like that, they don't understand biolights or feel an EM field, which is fine, really, it's better if you never know about the flare of his as he spots you near, vibrating and warm, an open invitation that most of his people would translate to "look at me" or the shuddering wave and unrefined want when you end up touching him by accident, is his fault to have his sensor points in max level to really feel you, every touch as delicate as you can just to not repeat the time a hand accidentally pushed against his cockpit.

No matter what he said, there was no other way to explain the sound escaping his vox as your fingers pressed to the glass than that it was a uncomfortable place to touch, it would be too embarrassing to say the truth and admit that in reality it was sensitive, keeping his dignity and not look like a desperate youngling was better, even if he still struggles to have you near again, doing his best to find you every time and assure you that it's fine, he is okay, so please touch him again because you are so soft and he loves it so much but it's so embarrassing, and it's so dangerous, because what is he going to do is you don't like his approach.

If you knew he feels attracted to you, of his feelings for you, would you reciprocate? Would you be embarrassed? Would you pack your things and get away from the base to a place he doesn't know?

The answer from his part to any of the questions is that he couldn't handle it properly, the happiness or the endless grief, getting organic-curious wasn't on his plans when he decided to stay on earth, and he isn't even sure what your own preferences are.

So, if you knew, you would understand why he almost jumps out of his place when he feels your hand above his right leg strut, quickly collecting himself and hearing you say something about a group going another way, "away from the higher-ups, just us".

You can't feel his EM field or spark flutter, but you do smile when his wings do.

[craykaycee]

sneaks onto ur dash to talk ab one of my aus with these magma doodles------

This is a Street Artist AU I-- basically adopted from @starrspice (thank you, lovelyy!!) This is a post-fire AU where the DCA escapes the fire themselves and into the city. They're stripped of the proper prompts and triggers for their childcare and entertainment programming, but are able to find something their coding can latch onto: a group of children who need entertainment. They modified their performance and entertainment programming with their arts and crafts protocols to create art as a performance!

More details (so many details-- I went off xDD) and designs of the AU, of which I've titled "City Lights and Paint Water", under the cut :3c

They're pretty beat-up from the fire, and without proper access to maintenance, they've retained the burn marks, splattered paint, and other grime associated with being outdoors. Over the months as street artists, passersby donate their old paints and other supplies, hence the oversized trousers and worn apron! (P.S.: cloth placement is more accurate in the magma doodles)

Sun and Moon each have preferred mediums and styles!

Sun prefers acrylic paints and spray paint, his paintings a controlled chaos with loud, scattered colors, large brushstrokes, and splatters. His paintings always have a lot of movement due to his freeform painting style, splattering paint and getting a laugh from the kids.

Moon like to work with watercolors and colored pencil, the colors more muted with small pops of brighter colors (such as lights within windows). He likes to capture the lights of the streets, wondering what the true night sky looks like, his art giving a soft and ethereal mood.

Then we have our Main Character (MC), the viewer/reader! They're a graphic designer for a big corporate tech company, tasked with making pamphlets, brochures, posters, et cetera for the company. Though they do good work as a graphic designer, their true passion is fine arts, but their work isn't taken seriously due to its "childish" appearance despite the real-life deeper meanings. In the meantime, they create for themself, crafting and making trinkets for their apartment. They even make some of their own clothes, made up of several different garments to make something one-of-a-kind. Their outfits are fairly chaotic, typically accompanied by a hair accessory, but the patterns and colors compliment each other well.

MC grew up in a rural area, and still love the open and free areas it provides, but they had to move to an urban city for work and better opportunities. It's a big step up from their small town, overwhelmed by the activity. At the start of the story, they feel disconnected from their work, drained by the cookie-cutter bland work of their graphic designer job, but it's the only way they can reliably earn income.

The story starts with Sun spotting MC beyond the crowd, rushing somewhere. He continues to see them in the distance, unable to approach them due to their haste. He's mesmerized by their appearance, drawn to their creative expression just in their outfit. Moon catches a few glances of MC in the evenings, but doesn't have the same draw to them as Sun, figuring them as just another "everyman" in the crowd. One day, in MC's haste, they lose a paper from their portfolio. When Sun catches it, he sees a presentation sheet of several different designs meant for a business card or a t-shirt emblem. Sun is astounded by them, making MC more interesting than they already were.

It's not until about a week later that Sun takes an opportunity to return the paper and give his compliments. When he does this, however, MC's face falls before forcing a polite smile, thanking him. Before Sun could say anything more, they're gone.

There's so many small moments I'd like to explore, but that's the set-up :3cc I nearly have chapter one (1) completed, two (2) chapters after that already planned. The chapter length is pretty short right now, but I don't know if I wanna beef them up or keep them at this shorter length. We'll see! :D

Welp, these are my boios! I hold them gently in my hands and present them like a proud parent

[shunin-gumis]

L4mps Main Story Translation

Designs of Happiness A01

Title: ep.1 Well-being by myself

Characters: Nagi

Summary: One night, an interesting radio show could be heard at the Flower Laundry...

JP Proofreading: aca @463ce6 on twt EN Proofreading: jes @arcanecrayonn on twt

No matter how hard I try, a worthless person like me could never trace after the path to "happiness" that everyone else gets to experience.

As the gentle loneliness of the night envelops me, I drift between fleeting moments of happiness, barely holding on to see the next day.

-It was one of those days.

Location - Flower Laundry

Voice from the Radio: Coming to you live from HAMA Studio no.3-

Arisa: It's Arisa and~

Teresa: Teresa's~

Arisa and Teresa: Intelli-radio: Aristotle~*

Nagi: Sonia, could you turn up the volume?

Sonia: Okay~

Teresa: The rain sure isn't letting up huh?

Arisa: True~ It's quiet but it's perfect for getting some me-time in, whether it's to study or get some reading done.

Arisa: As we were talking about before the commercial break, forgive us if we go on too long on the mechanisms of achieving Happiness, just blame it on this lovely night we're having~

Sonia: ...

Sonia: Nagi-shan, you've been working on your bike all this time, but you made sure to eat dinner, yesh?

Nagi: Eh? ... Ah.

Nagi: Now that you mention it, I might be really hungry right now.

Sonia: Geez~

Sonia: You're still in the middle of work, so I'll get you shumthing you can eat with one hand.

Nagi: Thank you, Sonia. If you weren't around, I'm sure I would've ended up a mummy by now.

Nagi: "A mummy was discovered in the middle of the city!" Could Flower Laundry possibly be the next new hot spot...

Sonia: Don't say shumthing so ominous. It's exactly to prevent unfortunate people like you from ending up in such sad situations that helper robots like me were created.

Sonia: Pleash wash your hands and wait there.

Nagi: When did it get so late...

Nagi: I should get the bike back in the garage for now...

Arisa: While countries and corporations were competing between themselves for economic growth, the end result was that most of our environment was destroyed, and resources dried up in the blink of an eye.

Arisa: Did humanity manage to achieve true prosperity after this? Was it worth the cost? The answer is a resounding "No". Although the country's GDP* has increased four, or even five-fold, the happiness-index has flatlined for the past 100 years or so.

Teresa: Wait, really? A 100 years ago, people couldn't even have their clothes dry automatically, right? They also had to wash the dishes by hand... No way, that reminds me, they even had to vacuum the dust off the floor themselves or something right..?

Arisa: I think they'd still be using brooms about a 100 years ago?

Teresa: No way~ That's way too retro for me! I can't imagine life without all the smart appliances we have now. I mean, a world with no food-printers? Yikes.

Sonia: Here you go, "fresh" off the food-printer...

Nagi: Right on time.

Sonia: On time?

Nagi: I was just talking to myself. Thanks for the meal.

Arisa: Okay, I get how much you love your smart appliances, but do all these materialistic things truly fill your heart? Does it really let you sleep better at night?

Teresa: Hmm, you do have a point. The more convenient things get, the more it feels like the world is telling me to be time and cost-efficient, but before I even realize it, I'm already doom-scrolling on dazzle*...

Arisa: "More convenience! More income!" Such concepts are shoved in our faces constantly... How about trying to remove ourselves from this endless equation? There's quite a few factions amongst the younger generation who never expected much from society nor themselves...

Teresa: Sorry, that's just not for me. Chasing after your dreams, working towards your goals: those are the things that make life worth living. Growing as you compete with others is part of it too. And then when you finally get your hands on the things you've always wanted with your own effort... It doesn't get better than that.

Arisa: That's right. That's why people have come up with a strategy guide-

Arisa: The era of learning the Psychology of Happiness is upon us!

Teresa: The Psychology of Happiness?

Nagi: What's that?

Sonia: Oh! There's a response on the shop's PeChat*, hm...

Sonia: Nagi-shan, we just got an order. The customer will be coming by in ten minutes to pick it up.

Sonia: They're requesting a bouquet that can cheer up their girlfriend who's feeling down about making a mistake at work.

Nagi: ―

Sonia: Nagi-shaaan.

Nagi: Ah, sorry. Can you ask them what her favorite color is?

Sonia: I already did. Apparently, she likes the color blue!

Nagi: Blue... Blue, huh.

Nagi: I think we can use the nemophila we just got in earlier today. Add in some large calla lilies and sky-blue baby's breath...

Nagi: Maybe some delphiniums and blue stars could work as accents...

Sonia: And what about the ribbon?

Arisa: To explain, the Psychology of Happiness is the study that aims to help anyone, of all ages and gender, understand how to engineer and replicate the mechanism of happiness in their own lives.

Nagi: Replicate... happiness?

Sonia: Nagi-shaan, are you listening?

Nagi: I'm listening. Could you bring out the thin, light blue ribbon from the back?

Sonia: Got it. I'll leave the card here too.

Nagi: Okay, thank-

Teresa: Wait, some people find it easier to be happy because it's hereditary!?

Nagi: What!?

Sonia: Huh!?

Sonia: Geez, don't scare me like that. What's got you sho worked up?

Arisa: That's right. 48% is already determined by our DNA.

Nagi: .....

Sonia: Nagi-shan?

Arisa: Just like how some people might find a dish spicier than others, some can experience happiness easier than their peers as well. This is a hereditary factor, determined by our genes from the moment we're born.

Teresa: No way! So what you're telling me is that half of the happiness we can experience in life was already decided while we were in our mothers' womb!?

Nagi: ......

Sonia: Are you okay now? The customer will be dropping by soon.

Nagi: ...! Right, I need to get this done quickly...

Sonia: I'll go ahead and cut the flower stems under water.*

Nagi: Thank you. Could you also get the blue gift-wrapping paper-

Sonia: I've already spread it out for you!

Customer: Um... I'd put in an order just earlier.

Nagi: ...Ah.

Nagi: Sorry, could you please wait for just a moment? There's just the finishing touches left.

Teresa: So, what about the remaining 52%? Don't tell me it's influenced by the environment we were born and raised in.

Arisa: Not at all, the influence from your environment makes up only about 10% of it. As for the remaining 42%...

Teresa: ... Is it based on our actions?

Arisa: Correct! This means that, out of 100% achievable happiness level, about 42% of it is within our control.

Nagi: Wow. I've never thought about it that way.

Customer: Huh?

Nagi: No, if I think about it, is that really possible?

Arisa: Just as how the right diet is different for each person, once you figure out the method, anyone can achieve happiness. How it comes to bear fruit for you, is up to you yourself.

Nagi: If half of it is determined by fate, and the other half is uncertain... Could it really be that simple? Then maybe it's also possible for me to.... No, it's probably just a waste of time in my case. I shouldn't get my hopes up. Just thinking about it is making me depressed.

Customer: Erm... Are you alright? You've been muttering to yourself for some time now...

Nagi: Ah... Sorry about that. Don't mind me.

Customer: Right...

Nagi: Thank you for waiting. This is the completed bouquet. Is it to your liking?

Customer: Wow...! It's beautiful... It's just how I'd imagined it, I'm sure my girlfriend will be happy with it.

Nagi: I'm glad to hear that- Ah.

Nagi: That's right, I almost forgot... Excuse me, would you mind handing the bouquet back to me? There's one last thing I need to do.

Nagi: Mu....

Customer: Mu?

Nagi: Mu.....nn!

Customer: Um, what exactly are you doing...?

Nagi: I've instilled some energy* into it. In other words...

Nagi: It's something like a good luck charm. When your girlfriend receives this bouquet, she'll be so happy that she'd be skipping along the pavement.

Customer: To the point of skipping...

Nagi: Oh but, even without my little charm, I'm sure she would be plenty happy just knowing she has someone who would get her a bouquet when she's feeling down.

Nagi: In any case, I hope the two of you can skip along merrily.

Customer: I-I see... Thank you...

Nagi: Thank you for your patronage.

Sonia: Thank you very mush!

Teresa: Whaat, is it time for us to go already? Too bad, I really wanted to talk some more~

Sonia: Phew... I'm glad we finished it in time.

Nagi: Yeah, it's all thanks to your help Sonia.

Sonia: It's a piece of cake!

Arisa: Arisa and Teresa, your guides for psychology, signing out!

Nagi: Anyways, good job. Let's do our usual thing.

Arisa: Let's meet again when the fountain of knowledge wells up again!

Sonia: A high-five right? 3, 2, 1..!

Arisa and Teresa: See you again!

Play Ivory MV

Notes:

Sonia has a bit of a lisp so I changed a few words to match her speech

Intelli in Intelli-radio is short for Intelligentsia

dazzle is a social media site in the 18trip universe

PeChat is a messaging app in 18trip universe

GDP stands for Gross Domestic Product.

Cutting flower stems under water prevents air bubbles from going up the stem and helps in keeping the cut flowers fresh for longer.

'Muuun’ is the sound he makes when he’s instilling his happiness energy/thoughts(念) into the flowers, literally.

Flower Language:

Flower Language is important to Nagi's character and a way for him to communicate his thoughts, so I'll always note it down whenever any are mentioned.

Nemophila Lovely, Wish for success, I forgive you, Clear heart

Calla Lily Gorgeous beauty, Purity, Gracefulness of a young maiden

Blue Baby's breath Gratitude, Luck, Innocence, Kindness

Delphinium You spread happiness, Clear and bright, Generous, Precious

Bluestars (Amsonia) Trust in one another, Abundant love

Fun fact: The flower passed around in Ivory is a Delphinium! Meaning Nagi spreads happiness, which is what he does by sharing his happiness 'energy' but also that he brings joy to those around him by simply being himself.

[0daylighthours0]

My Mother's Unbiased Byler + Milkvan Opinions - Viewing ST for the 1st Time!

(UPDATE)

My Mama has now witnessed Stranger Things in its entirety. Her favourite season was the third, her favourite characters Hopper and Joyce, her favourite pairing would be those guys too, and her most disliked pairing? Can only assume.

I wanted to write out her thoughts on the second to last episode previously, as she'd held many, but before I knew it we'd finished the whole show and I was forced to an income of NEW opinions which ruled out my memory of any old ones. Shucks. But boy did this lady have much to say. The only way I can break it down is by providing a sample of quotes she'd delivered, in order, a day after having finished the series.

All are just things she said about milkvan and byler, as they're this post's main focus. There's simply much to say about these relationships too, being so up in the air over where they ought be expected to turn out. These are all direct quotes too (as I typed as she talked, unkown to her) so you'll have to excuse the natural way in which some lines come off as unfocused, being written after real time conversations. Let's get into it:

Ok I really don't know whether she likes Mike very much. She actively disliked the guy earlier on, and now her feelings appear to be more mixed. A lot of her discussion was solely around this guy's actions.

"It's almost like he's [Mike] forcing himself like- ok Hopper he was kind of very passionate and kissing, you know he sort of instantly- with Mike, from being obsessed and spending so much time with her [El], suddenly he starts cooling off more and more and suddenly- they even separated right? I mean yeah that was out of his control but he, but he didn't really seem like he missed her you know it's like he just got on with it."

This point caught me off guard. I don't know how much I agree with my mother on this. It made me realize that during Mike and El's separation, there weren't many quiet Mike moments in which he expressed worry for her, beyond a couple that blend into him simply having breakup concerns. Any time Mike mentions distress for her whilst she's away, his talk evolves into him simply anxious over the state of their relationship. As a group, everyone in our Cali gang clearly wanted to save Eleven, but Mike really should have gotten more heartfelt moments in solitude (that means without Will you suffer bros) in which it is demonstrated to the audience that he really does miss her, as someone who is in love. Her being away shouldn't simply come off as a writing excuse for him to vent to Will. There wasn't enough of that tenderness milkvan desperately needs, and if anything I watched was an attempt then it really wasn't translated well - never trumping everyone else's familial or close frienship-like fret for El, never showcasing his concern to come from a more personal place. I mean how hard is it to have him in her room, staring longingly at a photo of hers, with a background composed of soft music. Then literally leaving it at that. I mean that is it. No Will rushing in there to insist, "you can tell her that thing when you see her k? It'll all work out trust me ight, you're the heart you're the HEART!" que affectionate gazes, constructs a byler scene for no reason I guess .

"I mean how do we know that he missed Will? He articulated it. Why didn't he articulate this the same way to El?"

True. I mean the fact that I can't remember a moment after they find El in which milkvan ask oneanother how they are, and communicate how much they missed eachother, does indeed say something. They shared a hug and touch when they first reunited, which was gladly interrupted by Will. That pineapple + pizza thing was not long enough, or sensitive enough, to be their moment. There was clear bonding, but it didn't breach a level of romance and chemistry nearly decently. It's good that they got at least that, I mean we need to know that these guys are at LEAST really close friends. And then the camera just felt like panning over to Will about to burst into tears in a corner. Like huh? Bruv you've now made it so that milkvan's pizza bit leaves a bad taste in our mouths. If I were a milkvan I'd be furious.

"You know what, I think it's done purposefully to create that sort of cold, distant, confused, you know they wanted to make people say he's [Mike] bisexual. For people to question. They want to get people to think that."

My Mama believes writers intentionally soured milkvan for viewers to "confuse" audiences, build up anticipation, make them question milkvan's relationship and wonder if our main man will spin to Will. I agree. They want that good ol' triangle comeuppance.

"They really are trying to bring that across- so that people start thinking Mike, you know he doesn't love El, he loves Will. They're really trying to, make people think that. Giving them [milkvan] a really nitty gritty relationship."

Yup.

"When you're gay. Coming out like that it's- it's terrifying. You have to be very careful. And Will could, he could tell. You know when someone is attracted to you. I think, things became sort of- sort of complicated. And Will sensed, he could feel that Mike is attracted to him. And that's why he could open up like that. Because you can always tell. You know, you just know, so that's why Will was able to confess these things to him [she sees painting scene as a confession, whether Mike realized it or not, and so do I]."

Well damn Mama. And there you have it folks. My.. I'm not gonna call her the h word but.. my- notabigfanofgaythingsandwouldbehappytopretendtheydon'texist mother, perceives Mike as a homosexual kid, and just that. Well bloomin heck that's all the confirmation I need.

I didn't expect this as a turnout, I mean so particularly. My Mama actually didn't like byler - I think. Well. Bloomin heck. She actually enjoyed Vickie x Robin, and this shocked me to my core. I don't know whether this is simply due to her being a fan of Vickie's actress (recognizing her from Anne With an 'E'), but I do know that my mother has a bias in gay relationships and sees ones involving females as more "pure" than that of two males. So her language when describing Will has changed since her realization that he loves Mike for sure (which became undeniable in the van scene). She describes him as being 'obsessed' with Mike, and says writers really wanted to get that obsession across. I agree with Will having been one note during season 4, him hopefully having more time to shine in the approaching season, but I thoroughly disagree with him coming off as obsessive. I suppose our camera man displayed the guy's little glances at Mike so often that my Mama felt it was overdone, and unable to be ignored. I also think she's just avoiding use of the word 'love' when describing anything homosexual.

She still doesn't think Mike demonstrates how much he loves El enough to leave no room for debate. According to her, his moments with her seem surface level. Just as a reminder she does not know my thoughts. She watched that entire 'I love you' thing and still isn't secure in any genuineness of the guy. I believe she supposes that we're intended to acknowledge milkvan's romance, but also probe it.

I now wonder whether my Mama was good enough representation for the average audience, because she actually does own a bias - this being that she usually actively dislikes gay things. So I puzzle over whether her brain overanalyzed any of the boys' highlights, wanting to "expose" their homo intentions. At first things were up in the air, but it became clear that Mike did not pass her gaydar, he was simply too intimate with Will to make that pass. And this wasn't the case in other seasons, she never questioned their friendship til now. She also hasn't acknowledged any supposedly queer relationships besides rickie (vobin?) and byler, meaning that other fan favourites such as elmax, steddie, ronance and such else didn't stand out as gay to her. This doesn't signify those other relationships to not have a chance, I'm elmax's personal cheersquad, it's plainly clear that my mother didn't have a tendency to point at every same sex relationship and yell suspicious. Byler was purely undeniable. You can thank Will's love being canoned for this, otherwise noone would have a need to read into Mike.

I don't know whether she supposes byler to have a chance moreso than the milk in the van, even with Mike's ambiguity. It would seem that as of right now her guess is that watchers are intended to second guess both relationships in order to build up interest. However, she doesn't know how unlikely Will's love life is to turn out negatively seeing as those damn writers manipulated crowds into consistently sympathizing for him. Dunno about the rest of you but that sounds like good news to me.

I have no idea how to close this analysis. Is it an analysis? There's much more I want to say, much more she said, but I fear this to be too jam-packed and aimless as is. I'm writing a third part to my most recent milkthevan failing relationship deep dive, and that'll possibly consist of thoughts I wish to input after gathering so much data from my mother.