#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.

[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)

[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.

[acradelius]

"Incoming Video Message"

KINKTOBER POST #1 / #16

FANDOM: Call of Duty - Modern Warfare (2019-2023)

PAIRING: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Female! Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female! Reader, Johnny "Soap" Mac Tavish x Female! Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

SUMMARY: While having some downtime on a mission Soap proceeds to check his phone, seeing that he has some incoming video messages from his best friend, Simon, who's on a break from missions. Let's just say that Simon's been taking good care of Johnny's woman while he's been away.

RATING: Lemon [🟡] - (NSFW!)

WARNINGS / MENTION OFS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH (MDNI), Established Relationship Between Johnny And Reader, Non-Established Relationship Between Simon and Reader, Non-Established Relationship Between Johnny and Simon, Non-Established Relationship Between Johnny, Reader, And Simon (They All Consider Themselves In A Relationship With Each Other Eitherway), Downtime Mission! Johnny, Off Mission! Simon, Singular Masturbation, Partial Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Lewd Media Content, Groping, Oral Sex - Receiving! Simon, / Giving! Reader, Top!/Dom-ish! Simon, Bottom! Reader, Unmentioned Switch! Johnny, Unprotected Sex, Unprotected P in V, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Unprotected Creampie - Giving! Simon / Receiving! Reader, Cum Fetish, Cum Digesting, etc.

WORD COUNT: 1,816 Words (Not Including Images)

TAGLIST: @masterofpuns

(If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!)

He had almost forgotten about how boring downtime could be during these missions. 

Being on unaccompanied missions didn’t happen as often these days since Johnny had been within the ranks of being a Sergeant within Task Force 141, but it still occasionally happened. Yeah, there were certain segments of being physically alone during missions, but he never was truly alone during those moments. Typically, Laswell or Price would either be on the other end of communications, and that someone else would be meeting up with him to initiate the next part of whatever plan was next. 

Usually, it would be Simon. 

Simon wasn’t here though. 

Johnny hadn’t encountered anyone else within the safehouse that he was temporarily staying at, at least till morning, but nor was he informed if anyone else might be showing up as well. Not that he would necessarily go out of his way to be making a new friend, maybe just some small talk in order to pass the time till he fell asleep. 

There wasn’t much to actually do within the safehouse itself, and right now it was far too risky to actually go out and spend a couple of hours occupying time with something. While there was a television it was something of an ancient piece of technology, which probably only showed local, over the air channels which would bore him almost immediately. The radio had been ransacked for parts and batteries quite some time ago, and the books were worn and torn, probably had sections of them missing as well. Even the break rooms back on base had much more for entertainment than this safehouse did, even if Johnny was only going to be staying for a couple of hours. 

Bzz. Bzz. 

Oh, that’s right. 

There was his work phone within his back pocket. 

Initially, Johnny had forgotten about the phone that typically lingered within his back pocket, seeing that it’s primary use was supposed to be for work purposes only. Yet, it seemed that whatever was on the device was going to be the sole entertainment opportunity for the night, and at this point he would take it. Waking up the phone doesn’t take much more than a press of a button and then a mere password, bringing him to the main interface. There’s that little thing that proceeds to catch his eye, that little, red circle on the right corner of the mail icon, the number one practically burning into his retinas. 

Could it possibly be a message regarding the mission? 

Could it possibly be a message about some special going on from some restaurant he had ordered from earlier in the day? (Don’t tell the higher ups about that, Johnny hates when they put their damned parental locks on the phone.) 

To his surprise, or possibly not, it’s actually a text message from Simon. 

Johnny eyebrows raise as he sees the prompts to download the videos, the man considering himself quite intrigued now. Simon was always a man of words in person rather than over text, but he definitely wasn’t a photogenic person, which is what causes curiosity to creep up within his mind. If Simon was sending him something over the phone, especially videos after Johnny mentioning his missus, then this must have been something good. 

His finger couldn’t hit that download prompt much faster than it had. 

‘Sendin’ this ta’ Johnny.’ 

Simon’s voice could be heard clearly once the video had begun being played, sending shivers coursing straight down Johnny’s spine. He had to adjust himself on that small, worn couch within the living room of the safehouse, already starting to unbuckle and unzip his pants. Johnny was well aware that he himself was quite easy to exhilarate, and knowing that Simon and (Y/N) both involved, he was definitely going to be in for a ride. 

‘Hiya, baby!~ Miss ya’ so much!~’ 

Pausing the video for a moment to place a kiss upon the missus' beautiful face. 

‘Hope you’re keeping yourself safe out there!~ Simon’s been keeping me company!~ Good company, of course!~’ 

There’s some teasing aspects to the first video, subtle but noticeable enough for Johnny, but it’s tame for the most part. It’s a cute outing between the two, essentially a date if it’s to be described as anything else, between Simon and (Y/N). (Y/N)’s wearing that endearing sundress that she had bought on the previous shopping trip, the one that’s extremely low cut from the top and high riding from the bottom, Johnny hasn’t had the pleasure of getting to see it in person yet. Throughout the video there’s times where whenever (Y/N) would bend over or purposely lift the bottom of her dress up slightly that Simon would zoom in, sometimes even catching a peek of some lacy, white panties. Other times it would be Simon pressing her up against a wall wherever they happened to be at, bringing a large hand to grope at one her breasts or having his hand trailing up her thigh and underneath her dress. 

‘Be a good girl and flash those new piercings of yours to the camera, sweetheart. Show Johnny-boy what’s waiting for him once he gets back home.’ 

‘Yes, sir. Johnny, look at how cute my nipple piercings are~ Maybe we could look into getting my clit pierced next?~’

Johnny doesn’t want to end up finishing too quickly, that would ultimately ruin it for him, especially since he hasn’t even viewed the second video yet and he’s sure that there’s definitely going to be some delicious jerk-off material within it. 

His grip around the shaft has tightened, causing a shiver of pleasure to course down his spine while his hips involuntarily buck up. “Ohh, fuck~” His stroking speed being leisurely, making sure to drag along the veins of his erect cock up to that burning, red tip where he would tease himself by brushing the buildup of precum across it, and using it as lube for the rest of his cock. 

The second video was longer than the first video, but Johnny definitely didn’t mind. As a matter of fact, the longer the better. It gave Johnny the challenge to see how long he could last while watching his two favorite people in the world with each other. It made him more enthusiastic to get back home. Pressing the play button upon the screen he’s met with such a beautiful sight. A sight that he would never be able to get tired of, that would be able to get his cock hard and throbbing at any second of the day, no matter where he was or what he was doing. Those pretty eyes looking up into the camera through fluttering eyelashes, a gentle grip as the bottom of her dress is gripped within both hands, lips pursed and glistening from the saliva continuously coats them from bobbing her head. 

(Y/N) looks absolutely gorgeous being on her knees while sucking Simon’s cock. 

‘Johnny’s taught you quite well, hasn’t he, love? Using that pretty mouth of yours so well.’ 

‘Mmph!~ Johnny’s such a good- uhmm, mmph!~’

‘Didn’t give you permission to speak, love. Especially considering that I’ve got you busy with my cock in your mouth.’

Johnny’s thumb briefly brushes against the phone screen as he adjusts himself on the couch once again, causing the video to skip forward a couple of minutes. What he was seeing was an absolute tease, but also an absolute heaven. How such an obscene noise of skin slapping against skin was blaring through the phone speaker as Johnny watched Simon manhandle his cock in and out of his girlfriend, watching the plush flesh of her ass and hips bounce with every collision of Simon’s hips against her backside. How (Y/N)’s hands were tightly fisting the loose sheets underneath them, face buried into the pillows. Even then, Johnny could still clearly hear the loud moans and occasional shrieks that left her lips, those words of completely being in the grasp of pleasure. 

‘M-Mm, fuck!~ T-Too much, Si!~ Too much!~’ 

‘You can handle it, love. I know for sure that you can handle my big, thick cock. Taking it slow, taking it rough, taking it anyway that I want you to take it.’ 

Simon’s hand gracefully travels across the supple skin of (Y/N)’s ass, chuckling softly at her reaction of letting out a squeal of surprise as his hand collides with the flesh of her ass, giving a squeeze before proceeding to spank her once again. Squeezing the flesh of her ass is soon replaced with his hand slowly trailing up her back, thumb brushing against the structure of her spine, (Y/N)’s hips bucking up against him, until she’s forced to arch her back as Simon roughly grabs at her hair and pulls her head back. 

‘Simon, gonna cum!~ W-Wanna cum!~ Please, please, please!-’ 

‘Uh uh. There’s someone else that you need permission from to cum.’

‘J-Johnny, please!~ Please, can I cum?~ N-Need to cum, want to cum!~ Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum!-’ 

It was absolutely beautiful watching her unravel due to the intense orgasm that Simon had withdrawn from her, and in some aspects, Johnny did as well. That soft cry that escapes past her lips while her eyes briefly roll back, a hand pressing back against Simon’s abdomen to get him to slow down. Yet, it proves to be fruitless, whatever words that Simon was speaking not clearly being picked up from the phone video, until his body takes up most of the view, his loud voice echoing throughout the living room of the safehouse. 

‘FUCK! TAKE MY FUCKIN’ CUM, LOVE! FUCKIN’ TAKE IT!’ 

Johnny’s breath becomes hitched within his throat at the next sight that causes his mouth to water, how the camera pans down from (Y/N)’s pleasure contorted face down to her messy cunt, Simon using two of his fingers to push apart the outer labias to reveal his thick cum slowly dripping from her and landing on the sheets below. ‘What a waste,’ Johnny thinks to himself briefly, wishing that he was home so he could clean up both of his girlfriend and his best friend, to enjoy the taste of them amongst his tongue, a taste that only he would be rewarded with out of all people. 

It’s the clear visual and imagining the taste upon his tongue that brings Johnny to his own orgasm, hips bucking sporadically while the pace of him stroking his cock becomes sloppy and erratic as well. “Fuckin, hell!” He groans out, head falling back while his eyes briefly close, cum spurting in thick stands across his lower abdomen and some upon his chest. He’s a damn fiend, Johnny is, gathering an abundance upon his fingers and bringing it to brush against his tongue. A soft chuckle, he finally begins to text Simon back. 

[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

[saturncoyote]

After much work i have finally written down my analysis on the fictional character Creek from hit children's movie Trolls 2016, open Read More on your own discretion because this shit is about to get long

Alright let's start with a small summary for the folks that have never watched a Trolls movie and don't really know anything about Creek outside of the plethora of art i've made about him

Creek is one of the movie's side characters and secondary villain, he is Poppy's (the main character) friend and acts as a short-of twist villain (i'll explain that 'short-of' later,). Although shown to be a stereotypical nature-loving hippie he later betrays his friends and everyone he's ever known as he sells out the location of their village to Bergens, a race who 20 years ago used to keep the pop trolls in a large cage and would eat them once a year during a holiday called Trollstice.

He is first introduced when Branch (the movie's second protagonist) is confronting Poppy about her decision to throw a party, arguing that this could attract the attention of the Bergens, this is also where my first point about Creek's character begins First thing to notice is that, unlike what some people would like you to believe, Creek is NOT the only troll in Poppy's friend group (the Snack Pack) to be dismissive towards Branch, if anything Poppy herself is the only one in the group that seems to want to give him a chance ("i think everyone deserves to be happy"). Creek also shows up late to the conversation, only appearing once Branch escalates the situation by throwing Poppy's party invitation to the floor and stomping on it. You could easily argue that, in Creek's perspective, he is only doing what a good friend should do and protecting his friend from someone who is being cruel towards them, and although Branch has a GOOD reason to be upset and we later find out more about his backstory, there is no reason for us to believe that Creek or even the rest of the Snack Pack know anything about his situation, to THEM Branch is nothing but a party pooper who actively chooses to stay miserable ("some folks just don't want to be happy")

One point that i sometimes see that i would like to snip in the bud as soon as possible is that Creek doesn't truly care about his friends, especially Poppy, and is only using her to get something out of her (what exactly ? well we don't know, we could especulate that since she is the princess, he may want to use her for her status, possibly wanting to become royalty himself, but we're not here for that), the reason i bring this up now is because of the scene that follows the interaction with Branch, where Creek is the first one to notice that Poppy is still upset about the results of the conversation, not only that but he doesn't seem too happy about it himself

It would have been extremelly easy to animate him smiling or looking smug after Branch storms off, but that doesn't happen, he even glances down at the ground before looking towards Poppy, which is when he attempts to cheer her up. This small scene ALONE already leads me to believe that he truly does care, and although his attempts at cheering her up aren't exactly the best nor the most productive ("tune out his negative vibrations Poppy, they're toxic") he is still trying.

However we do not get enough time to find out more about his relationship with Poppy outside of this very moment as the next scene in the movie is the party and their imminent capture by the Chef Bergen, this is where i'd like to remind you that i called him only a "short-of" twist villain. For a twist villain to truly work we first need to understand why this character is considered to be a "good guy", and their relationship with the protagonist, so that the incoming reveal of them being the antagonist has a impact, not only on the other characters, but the audience themselves. The thing about Creek is that we don't GET that insight into his relationship with Poppy, they interact TWICE before the reveal, and one of those interactions is Poppy attempting to save him from being carried away by a Bergen, therefore the "twist" itself falls flat... but what if i told you that was done on purpose by Dreamworks ?

Before the existence of Creek there was another character who was meant to take his place in the storyline, and her name was Miss Guffin

According to concept art, Miss Guffin was originally going to be Poppy's mentor, and be captured by the Chef Bergen, and much like Creek she would sell out the other trolls as an attempt to save herself. Now that would have had a much bigger impact, not only on the audience as they realise that the respectful elderly character was a selfish coward at heart, but for Poppy as she would have had a much closer relationship with Guffin as her mentor. So why was she changed ? It's simple really, she was just too likeable.

Creek, by design, was created to be unlikeable, not only so that his reveal wouldn't upset the audience, but so that you wouldn't feel pity about his eventual demise. THIS is what i mean when i refer to him as a character "doomed by the narrative", he only exists because a much more appealing character had to be turned down for the sole reason of not upsetting those who watch the movie, he would never have been allowed to have a closer relationship with Poppy, because that would have given the viewer a emotional attachment to him, and we can't have that. Creek is a tragic character in the sense that he was destined to be the traitor, not only a traitor but a unredeemable one, and i understand why that is, there was never going to be enough time in the movie to give him a satisfying redemption, and it would have thrown off the entire flow of the story, killing him off was a much easier choice than trying to squeeze an awkward redemption at the very end, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that there WAS more. His fate feels unfair to me, as his only crime is being kind of a dickhead, and it's hard to blame him for his decision to sell out Pop Village when his only other option wasn't much better, so let's talk about that next.

In the next scene where we see Creek, him and the rest of the Snack Pack have been put in a cage by the Chef, this is where i'd like to point out that his first reaction to this predicament is to try and get everyone else to stay calm ("Woah, woah ! Everyone, we must all remain calm") This scene leads directly to the one where he gets nearly eaten by King Gristle, and when i say nearly i mean it, he is shoved INTO his mouth and assumed dead by everyone except for Poppy, who is only holding out hope that he is still alive. Of course we later find out that he is indeed, not dead, but that is only because he clung to Gristle's uvula causing him to choke and spit him out. The way we find out that he is alive is through Gristle himself, who reveals to Bridget that he has him locked inside his cape's clasp

Notice how little space he has in there, i'd say barely any to move let alone breathe, as he lets out a desperate gasp just as the clasp is opened. We do not know how much time has passed since he escaped being nearly eaten alive, but we can estimate it has to have been at least a few hours, as quite a few events happen between the formerly mentioned scene and this one. We do NOT get to see what happens between him, Gristle and the Chef during that time, which means we can only ESPECULATE why he was put in there in the first place, so allow me to do just that:

- Firstly, we do not know if Creek agreed right away to the Chef's request to reveal the location of the village, for all we know he might have declined to do so, and putting him into a small claustrophobic space was a way to give him that final push. - However this could have also been a way to stop him from escaping and telling the other trolls of the Bergen's plan, but i fail to see why they would have had to resort to such a, let's be honest here, barbaric method of keeping him put, when a normal cage would have done the job just as well, perhaps the Chef wanted to make sure he wouldn't change his mind. - Thirdly, this could have been a way to have someone keep an eye on him as the Chef busied herself with other things, essentially making Gristle the guard to Creek's prison No matter what option you decide makes the most sense, one thing is clear: Creek was tortured

At last we finally reach the moment he reveals to Poppy, Branch and the rest of the Snack Pack that he plans on betraying all of them and selling out the location of the village, this is the scene that is supposed to make you despise him, for being so cowardly and selfish that he'd rather let everyone he's ever known die horribly than.... give up his own life ? Hold up did i read that right, oh... hm Creek is a character who finds himself in a situation out of his control and is forced to make a decision between two truly awful options, he can either let himself be eaten or everyone else goes, there is NOT a correct answer here, and in the end his sense of self preservation wins. A decision probably influenced by the fact that before this moment, he had spent hours trapped in a small space with barely enough oxygen. There was NEVER going to be another way, as the Chef states herself:

Especially bringing attention to how he acts in this scene, to me it comes across less like he's finally showing his true colors as a manipulative person, and more like he's desperately trying to justify his actions not only to Poppy but to himself ("At least you get to die with a clear conscience")

And it seems like he's successful in doing so, for him at least, what other options does he have ? It's either give up your own life, or convince yourself that what you're about to do isn't truly that bad, he chooses to look at it with a positive outlook, ignoring the very obviously bleak reality he finds himself in ("So in a way... You could say... I'm doing this for you")

Another thing about this scene is that we don't really get to see his true feelings on the situation, as during this conversation the Chef Bergen is actively sharpening knifes in the background, even if he did want to come up with a escape plan or air out how he feels about this predicament they find themselves in, he would be unable to do so, as the person who could easily just snatch him up and kill him right then and there stands in the very same room. And that is a recurring thing when it comes to Creek, we don't get to SEE much of him, we don't see the events leading up to his betrayal, we don't really get to see his relationship with Poppy or even the rest of the Snack Pack for that matter, we don't SEE how he feels about being trapped inside Gristle's cape clasp or having to choose between himself or his friends, and honestly we probably never will. For a secondary villain he barely gets any screen time at all, and the screen time he does get is spent in near constant live-threatening danger.

And finally, his story comes to an end, the Bergens discover true happyness, Chef Bergen is defeated, and the last time we see Creek he's getting swallowed up by a mountain sized creature, the very thing he tried so hard to save himself from, to the point that he would give up everyone he's ever loved, happens regardless of his choice, was he even given a choice in the first place ? When both options led him to the same fate ? I would say it's almost tragically poetic if it didn't feel like salt to the wound.

Of course, Trolls: The Beat Goes On exists, but it's not even close to being a good continuation of his character let alone a satisfying redemption, his introduction is incredibly rushed, characters who have no reason to forgive him for his actions immediatelly welcome him back with open arms, and the one person who doesn't do so is shown to be in the wrong even though his reaction and suspicion make complete sense.

Besides, TBGO is it's own can of worms and opening it now would only make this post longer than it needs to be, so i'll spare you from that.

My final point is that Creek is a much more complex and interesting character than the story would like you to believe, and it CAN be quite frustating seeing people brush him off as just a selfish fraud who never truly cared about anyone but himself when there's really so much more under the surface. Of course i'm not saying that you should love him, hell you don't even need to like him, he has a lot of flaws and has made terrible decisions, but that's also exactly the reason why i am so keen on giving him a better ending. He shouldn't need to be perfect to deserve a nicer fate, to be given an actual choice for once, one that isn't going to blow up in his face in the end, the ability to be better and do better. You don't deserve to be tossed aside just because you have a big ego or some other personal flaw, you don't deserve to be considered unredeemable because you were put in a situation out of your control, making a bad decision shouldn't define your existence for the rest of your life.

I've come to accept that Creek is a very important character to me, he's a character who NEEDS to be selfish for the story to work the way it does, one who's the narrative is actively trying to make as unlikeable as possible at all times, but it's attempts had an opposite effect on me, and the more i dug only solidified him as my favorite in the entire franchise. I love him because of his unused potential, potential that'll most likely never get a true chance to shine due to Dreamworks not seeming to really care about him as a character, so i have taken upon myself to do what canon failed to. If i had to pick ONE THING for folks that read this post to get out of it, is that you should never be embarassed of your enjoyment for a fictional character, no matter how unlikeable or one-dimensional they seem to be, analyse every frame they show up in, write that fanfic, draw that art, create that self indulgent AU, find meaning where no one else did

[giantkillerjack]

Update: Having finished Smile (2022) with only minimal fast-forwarding (I'll go back and re-watch it fully at a much later date), I can confirm 3 things:

I am an absolute fucking pineapple for starting a horror movie past 10pm. The previous personal rule I had was "no starting horror media after midnight", and I started this movie at 11:54pm. I see now that my previous rule was... insufficient. My adrenaline isn't going to go down enough to sleep until at least 5:00am. I am a kumquat of a man. I am a silly little transgender kiwi-lime spritz. I am a passionfruit-strawberry smoothie with boba for brains, and I have made an error.

Most people who are suicidal should not watch this movie. Just-- go watch The Babadook for now if you absolutely must watch a movie about a literal trauma monster, and come back to this one when it has less of a chance of causing harm to you. Both are great movies. Smile is just a lot more bleak. - And that is in comparison to a movie where a woman snaps her a small dog's neck in front of her 6-year-old child. I mean, The Babadook is absolutely hopeful in comparison.

This movie fucking slaps. It is extremely fucking good. If you are in a place to watch a bleak and TERRIFYING movie about suicide, this is an excellent fucking movie. (If you're not sure, please save it for later! It's not going anywhere!)

I mean, I want everyone in my life who failed to support me in my own time being suicidal to have to watch this movie because it is a brutal look at what it is like to have a deadly mental illness that you don't have the language to explain and that you just can't get people to understand the danger of. Gods know those folks who failed me would probably STILL fail to understand what I'm showing them, but MAN, it is a BRUTAL message about not believing mentally ill people.

My only real complaint tbh is that the character of the white cop ex-boyfriend was WAY too helpful and understanding to the mentally tormented main character. Which ultimately means that the film did fail to understand and highlight the way that the cops play a direct role in perpetuating the very same abuse and neglect of the mentally ill in America that this movie is about!

(The fact that the main character's therapist mentions that she is legally obligated to call the cops if she determines her patient is dangerous shows that the movie is at least partially aware of this issue, but it fails to commit in this respect.)

But otherwise, yeah, this is an amazing fucking movie and the most visceral demonstration of the horrors of psychosis and untreated PTSD that I've seen, while actively challenging the ableist horror movie tropes I've come to expect from any horror movie that shows ANYTHING related to mental health.

This movie really said, "NO, you're not gonna get murdered by a bunch of crazed lunatics. That's fucking stupid. You're MUCH more at risk to BECOME someone other people CALL a lunatic for reasons outside of your control... and then there will be nobody that can help you."

And THAT'S the horror story I think neurotypical people need to fucking hear. The same way I don't need another "oh man wouldn't it be scary if you met some POOR PEOPLE with FACIAL DEFORMITIES" cannibal hillbilly movie, when the REAL horror of THAT situation is the kind of treatment a poor person with an unusual face could expect from a group of lost college kids who represent wealthy society at large.

I give Smile a 9/10, with the caveat that, again, this story is a tragedy about mental health. And it's an important story to tell...

But as a person whose life was saved by the patients and counselors at a mental hospital's intensive outpatient program, I want to emphasize that this movie would have fucked me up really badly back then, and it could have even discouraged me from seeking the trauma treatment that helped my life stop being a living hell.

So I wanted to emphasize one more time to please be careful with this film if you're currently having a Bad Time, and also emphasize that not all of our stories end in tragedy. I'm alive and loved and often happy, and I don't want to die, and I once thought that was an impossible state of being for me.

Even though it was fucking chilling for me to recognize that twisted titular smile from this movie as the one I used to draw on my artistic representation of my own suicidality (her name used to be Sue), if i were to draw my trauma monster now, it would look like a small strange little creature that needs love and patience (they don't wanna hurt me; they're just... horribly scared sometimes. But they haven't been Sue in a long time). Things are so different now.

So. Good things are possible. And while sometimes good movies benefit from NOT showing hopeful endings in order to emphasize the real-life stakes of a societal problem, YOU, reading this, are not yet lost.

The possibility of a better life - however slim or grim - cannot truly die so long as you draw breath.

And I happen to personally know a lot of people working to help make that chance bigger and better because doing so is MY life's work, and this has led to me making a lot of awesome, radical, kind friends. We are Many.

And that matters. You matter. And even if you, now, are the only person who ever reads this - if you can be even a hair's breadth gentler to yourself today in any way, then, by my metric, I have written a wildly successful movie review.

(Especially considering that I am, at my core, a sapient mango who now has to watch funny YouTube videos until 5-fucking-AM because I am JUST A SILLY LITTLE GUY OKAY.)

The cool thing about a horror movie that takes place in a mental hospital and, shockingly, actually turns out to be on the side of mentally ill people is that it avoids all the common disgusting pitfalls of mocking, demonizing, and infantilizing mentally ill people.

The downside is

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

[It's much scarier.]

[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:

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[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

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[whalesforhands]

kaizen daycare! 3

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“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…”

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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.