#normally i feel like shit if i get a grade below a B in any class but if I get a D- in this class I will not care

[randompixelz]

Statistics homework took too long now I don't have enough hours left in the night to reward myself with an edible (will fall asleep not long after taking it and thus will not experience the fun parts). One thousand plagues dust death and desolation.

[julesclues]

hi boooo! You’re legit my favorite author on here! I love your writing so much 💕 was wondering if you could do one: outer banks JJ getting so drunk at a party and throwing up at the party and getting sick all over JB car going back to the chateau with all the pogues. And like reader (not Girlfriend yet) taking care of him please 🥺 thank you so much!!!! 😍😍😍 I know you’re busy so like take you’re time and if you don’t want to it’s fine too 💕💕

Drunken Confessions

Warnings: excessive and underage drinking, cursing

Pairing: jj maybank x reader

Word count: 2.48k

Summary: JJ drinks a littleee too much at a party, which makes the reader worried about him. So being the great person she is, she decides to take care of him.

a/n: thank you for the kind words in your request! It really means a lot! <3

3 things JJ Maybank loves most in this world: sex, surfing, and booze. Emphasis on the booze because once he started, it was almost impossible to stop him which, was currently the situation at the party you were all at.

It was a normal party, one mixed with tourons and pouges. But a normal party for JJ obviously meant drinking. You always worried about him when he would over do it like he is now. Though you were all used to the underage drinking, it was kind of hard to remember that it still is, technically, illegal.

The music was almost too loud. You could barely hear your friends as they each took turns telling stories about their most embarrassing moment. “Mine’s gotta be in 3rd grade when I was in the talent show for dancing and wound up twirling off stage,” Kie exclaimed, making all of you laugh. Pope went next and then John B and as you went around the circle, you realized JJ was no where to be found. You stood up in worry and searched the party for his unique clothing style and beautiful set of hair. “Where is he?” You ask, making John B tilt his head. “Who?” You roll your eyes and look at him. “Your best friend?” You ask with a laugh. Before John B could answer though, you all heard some yelling in the distance. Turning your head to the sound, your question was answered.

There was JJ. Standing on top of a table. Chugging beer after beer, almost as if he was putting on a show for the cheering audience under him. They were all applauding him as he downed the substance, some of it pouring down his chest, turning his dark blue tee into black. You groaned in annoyance as you and the other pouges ran up to him. You pushed through the crowd and made your way to the front, giving you the perfect view of JJ’s drunken state. You sigh and stick your hand out to him. “JJ!” You yell, but he still continued to pour the drinks down his throat. “Maybank! Hey! Let’s go!” You attempt again, but it’s no use. So, you climb up on the table with him, earning even more cheers from the people below. Maybe they thought you were going to join him.

He finally turns to you and his eyes light up. “Y/n!” He exclaims happily. As much as you loved JJ, in this moment, you were pretty upset. All you wanted was for him to just take care of himself so he wouldn’t do stupid shit like this. “Let’s go J,” you whisper only loud enough for him to hear. You reach out to him but he dodges your touch. “No!” He yells, scanning the people below. “Please J. Come on. Please let’s go home,” you plead, making JJ turn toward you. This time, his eyes were soft and warm, almost as if he had turned sober for a quick moment. “Ugh, fine,” he groans, but secretly doesn’t mind the feeling of your finger tips guiding him off the table and back to the pouges. You ignored the boo’s you heard from the others, but they soon forgot about it. To you, they weren’t worth JJ’s time.

“He’s shit faced,” you state to the other pouges, as JJ leans further into your side. Without you, he might have fallen over. “What’s new?” Pope laughs, making you roll your eyes. You knew that this was normal for JJ and that the pouges took it as a joke, but that doesn’t mean it should’ve been normalized. You always worried about JJ and the fact that the other pouges didn’t, made you upset.

You sigh as you sway awkwardly with JJ, thinking about what to do. “Can we just take him back to John B’s? He can’t be drinking anymore guys,” you plead, as John B nods and grabs his keys to the van. “Let’s go then.” You all start walking to the van, you and JJ a little bit behind due to his wonky walking. “You’re cute,” he laughs in his drunken state, making you smile a bit. JJ flirting with you both sober and drunk wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it never failed to make you blush like a middle schooler. “You too J,” you admit, and he chuckles without saying another word.

You make it to the van where Kie holds the door open for you two to hop into the back. You shove JJ in first, having him sit near the window while you sit in the middle and Kie sits next to you guys. John B starts the van and starts driving, which makes JJ hold his stomach. You’re the only one who notices it. “You okay JJ?” You ask him, but all he does it roll down the window. “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbles, making your eyes go wide. “Oh no JJ, not in the van please,” John B begs. JJ doesn’t say anything as he sticks his head out the window and starts violently throwing up. All of you groan and laugh, as you rub JJ’s back to soothe him. You repeat the phrases “it’s okay” and “you’re okay” like a mantra.

You felt something on your thigh and looked down to see JJ’s hand. After pulling his head back out the window, he plops down on the soft seat under him and looks at you with a sloppy smile while squeezing your thigh in reassurance. “I’m good,” he laughs, looking around the van. “Good cause if you ever throw up in my van, I’ll kill you,” John B chuckles, making everyone else laugh along.

Finally making it back to John B’s, with JJ getting sick almost every 5 minutes, you limp with him by your side as the pouges rush to get the door open for you two. “Come on,” you grunt, finding it a bit difficult to hold JJ up by yourself. He keeps giggling and laughing while slurring his words. “Get him cleaned up in the bathroom y/n,” Pope says, and you nod. “We’ll get him water and some tylenol but until then, just make sure he doesn’t throw up all over my house,” John B exclaims, making you chuckle and adjust yourself against JJ. “Sure thing John.”

You walk into the bathroom with JJ and plop him down on the toilet seat. He sways back and forth, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Jesus J, your clothes are so dirty,” you whisper with a sigh. “Would you like me to strip then, princess?” You roll your eyes but can’t help but grin at his flirty words. “Shut it Maybank. Let’s just get you cleaned u-“

Your words were interrupted by JJ rushing to get off the toilet seat so he could open it. He instantly started throwing up, gripping the sides of the toilet until his knuckles turned white. You instantly got on your knees and sat behind him, rubbing his back to try and soothe him. “Shit JJ..” you say sympathetically. “I fucking hate when you do this shit.” After a minute or so of throwing up, he sits down on the floor and wipes him mouth. “Come here,” you mumble, coming closer to him with a napkin, but he swats your hand away. “JJ..” you warn. “Y/n just get out of here, okay? I don’t need you taking care of me.” You blink in surprise of his words and how quickly he can switch up. “Instead of being petty JJ, how about you be grateful that someone cares about you!” He scoffs and looks away. “Whatever,” he hiccups. “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You freeze for a minute, trying to pretend like his words didn’t hurt you as much as they did. “You’re an asshole sometimes JJ. Girlfriend or not, I care about you. So stop denying my help and just shut up! God, I don’t even know why I’m fighting with you. You’re obviously so drunk right now. You don’t mean anything you’re saying.” You get up and stick your hand out for him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He looks at your hand and then up at you. You shoot him a smile and he could swear, drunk or not, that smile would be the death of him one day. 

He hesitantly takes your hand, and you pull him up, having him stumble a bit before regaining his balance. You lead him to his bedroom and plop him down on his bed. You kneel down to take off his shoes for him, but he stops you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, looking down to the ground. “For what?” You ask him, sitting down next to him. He feels the bed dip down a bit, which makes him sway a little. “For what I said in the bathroom,” he mumbles. You shake your head and chuckle. “JJ, you’re just drunk. I know you don’t mean any of it.” You were always so patient and understanding when it came to JJ. It was one of the many things he loved about you. That’s what made you so different from the other pouges. 

“Y/n?” He whispers. “Hm?” You ask in the same volume that he had used. “I like you a lot.” You smile and grip his shoulder. “I like you a lot too, JJ.” He shakes his head and lays down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. “No Y/n,” he sighs, while closing his eyes. “I don’t think you understand. I like you a lot.” You tilt your head for a second in confusion, but instantly look at him wide eyed when you get what he meant. “Wha- JJ? Are you serious?” But he doesn't respond. All you heard from him was his silent snores. You get up from his bed and look down at him, to see he was fast asleep. Your breathing starts to pick up as you pace around the room silently. “Oh my god, oh my god. He didn’t mean that, right? He’s just drunk.. right? My god Y/n, who are you even asking? You’re alone. Right.. okay.” You stop pacing and grab a blanket that’s folded on JJ’s bed and cover him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “You better have meant what you said JJ, or I’ll kill you.” 

You leave a letter for him and go on your way, hoping he calls you in the morning or is not too sick to remember what he meant. 

Dear JJ, 

It’s your favorite person :) You were pretty drunk last night so the pouges left you some water and medicine while I took care of you. When you wake up, give me a call, okay? We kinda need to talk. And please JJ, try not to get so drunk anymore. You worry me when you do. I care about you. Girlfriend or not. 

Love, Y/n <3

-----

JJ wakes up the next morning with a groan and a pounding headache. He felt like he got hit by a truck. He never drinks this much and he knew it, but for some reason last night was different. He was trying to forget. And apparently it worked because he forgot what he was trying to forget. Bingo. He blinks a couple of times to get his vision from blurry to clear before standing up and stretching. He  looks down at his nightstand and finds a folded piece of paper and instantly recognizes your handwriting. 

He opens the letter and reads it. His eyes go wide when he reads “girlfriend or not.” He starts to wonder what he could’ve possibly said to you last night for you to include that in the letter, but his memory is failing him. Nevertheless, he finds his phone and quickly finds your contact, hesitantly clicking “call.” 

You answer after a couple of rings with a chipper yet out of breath ‘hello.’ 

“Hey Y/n..” he says softly, hearing your pants. “Are you okay?” he asks with a hint of concern in his voice. “Yeah J, I-I’m good. Just surfing. Why don’t you join me? None of the other pouges are here, and I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.” You didn’t sound mad or upset, which JJ took into consideration. The last thing he ever wanted was to make you upset. “Sure, yeah. I’m on my way.” 

-----

JJ meets you on the beach about 15 minutes after your phone call. “Hey J!” You say, running up to him with a smile. “How are you feeling?” You ask him, and he just rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m a little out of it but the strangest thing is that I don’t remember anything from last night.” Your face instantly drops and JJ is quick to recognize your disappointment. “Oh..” you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek and looking down. “What’s the matter? Did I say something last night? Y/n whatever I said, I didn’t mean it, okay?” You look back up at JJ with a bit of tears in your eyes. “You said you liked me,” you mumble, making JJ tilt his head. “Of course I like you,” he chuckles. You shake your head, realizing you were mimicking his actions from last night. “No JJ. You said you liked me.” His eyes go wide, immediately realizing what you meant. “Oh.. Y/n, I- I don’t-”

“Did you mean it J?”

“Y/N-”

“Just tell me JJ. Please. Don’t lie to me, okay?”

 JJ looks down for a moment, contemplating on whether or not he should tell the truth to you and potentially ruin the friendship, or lie to you, and ruin the friendship even further. He saw how hurt you look when he said he didn’t remember, so maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance that you liked him back. 

“I like you Y/n. I do. More than a friend. I didn’t want to tell you while I was shitfaced and with you taking care of me. But I did, and I’m sorry. You deserved a better confession from me. I really do like you Y/n but if you don’t like me back then that’s okay. I ju- are you crying?!”

You wipe the tears away as you chuckle from JJ’s concerned face from you crying. “Of course I am, you idiot!” You exclaim, walking closer to him. “JJ I like you too. So much. I was really hoping you were telling the truth because I don’t think I could watch you have one night stands anymore,” you laugh, and so does he. “So does this mean..” his voice trails off but you knew what he meant. You nod with a smile and he returns it, blinking slowly. 

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Please do.”

[erythrum]

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓

𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘖𝘯𝘦

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧,𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦,𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹,𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘴,𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.9𝘬 +

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘺/𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘢𝘧𝘦

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

The boneyard was a melting pot, pogues, tourons, and kooks unalike all gathering for one of the last kegger's of summer. This mash together of kids from all over Kildare and the mainland always ended in chaos, it was just a matter of time before shit went down tonight.

Rafe had his arm thrown around my shoulders as we walked down the path to the boneyard. I could faintly see Topper and Kelce downing the cups of pogue provided beer. Didn’t matter whether or not the kooks or pogues could get along, as long as it was on the cut and alcohol was provided, the teens could get along for a limited amount of time.

“Hey y/n! What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving for college this week?” It was Sarah who yelled out to me, running up to her brother and I in her floral printed dress. Rafe’s arm dropped to his side as she came with Topper not far behind.

“Oh I just couldn’t miss my last kegger before leaving, Duke can wait on me one more day.” The two of us embraced in one of those hugs that has you shifting your weight from side to side. I guess she didn’t realize I wouldn’t leave for college for another month, but I was sure she was already too drunk for me to explain it to her that she was not thinking of the right month.

As Sarah was hanging onto me probably a little too tight, Topper was giving Rafe one of those looks that said everything but also nothing at the same time. Like prior knowledge had to be known to understand the context. I of course did not, those two always had some stupid shit planned and I can almost guarantee it had to do with messing up the pogues’ little party.

The sun hung low on the horizon after I had finished my third cup, the colors illuminating the sky so brilliantly it felt like a fantasy. I stripped off my top and headed for the water, the pinks and purples of the sky reflected in its crashing waters. It was so cold, the temperature sent shivers up my body and a familiar rush in my energy. Almost waist deep now, I submerged my body completely under the water. It was always how I remembered it, calm and refreshing.

“C’mon Rafe! Don’t be a little bitch and get in there, I see the way you look at her,” Topper spewed, pushing his friend to have a little courage.

“Man what the fuck are you even talking about?” Deny everything Rafe thought.

“Oh come on dude, you’ve been making please love me eyes at her since the sixth grade, and please fuck me eyes at her since the tenth, when are you gonna do something about it for once? You’ve got a month to make a move, or regret it your entire life,” Topper continued his monologue as Rafe tuned him out, too distracted by the girl, his girl, staring out into the Atlantic like it was calling to her.

His heart was pounding as he made a B-line for the water, a light jog, but not so fast someone would think he’s crazy, or just madly in love. He swiftly pulled his polo over and off his head before plunging into the chilly water. Topper clearly knew whatever he'd said had worked.

I heard him before I saw him, Rafe approached and submerged himself just as I had a few minutes before.

“If we get hypothermia I'm sending you my hospital bills.” He laughed, wading around in the shallow water.

“Oh shock! Rafe Cameron threatening his medical bill payments? I never could’ve guessed!” We enjoyed our few minutes of peace before talking again.

“But it’s basically impossible anyways, you get use to it after awhile, maybe it’ll calm your hot-headed ass down,” I giggled and prepared for what always came next. Rafe pickup me up around my waist, lifting me over his shoulder before attempting to sprint as fast as he could deeper into the water. His hands had been wrapped around the back of my knees for a few moments until he threw himself and I down into the deeper water, both of us completely submerged beneath the surface.

The sun was dipping below the horizon now, and the deep blue of the sky was beginning to envelop the boneyard. We had come up for air, and I began splashing him with the water around us, payback for his antics. Theres no way in hell I’d be able to throw him down into the water too, this was the best I could come up with. The two of us were laughing before Rafe grabbed my arms and twisted me around so my back was flesh against his front. I gave up on trying to fight him off. Instead I just rested against him in an attempt to catch my breath.

“Hey Rafe, can we talk about something?” Oh fuck she knows, he thought. This was gonna be it, it’s going to fuck up his entire plan.

“Yeah, uh sure, like here?” He questioned.

“Maybe not here, I think we’ve got as audience,” he knew she was referring to Topper and Kelce, they were watching from the beach.

"The truck then?" I nodded my head, not at all prepared for the favor I needed to ask of him.

The sand stuck to my feet as we headed back to where his truck was, the chilly air wrapping around my body. Rafe opened the backseat door and pulled out a towel for me, always prepared. He pulled the passenger side door and I slid into the seat, the heat of his car pumping through the interior. My heart was pounding, but I wasn’t sure if his was too. We made it about halfway to tannyhill before speaking.

“Soooo,” he said.

“You’re going to think I’m absolutely crazy, Rafe," I laughed in an attempt to hide my nervousness.

"First of all, you're already crazy, and second of all, I'm pretty sure I know exactly what you're going to say," his hands were clenching the steering wheel harder now.

""Oh really? You already knew that I was going to ask you to take my virginity?" I don't know why, but I just blurted it out.

His car came to a screeching halt on the side of the road, lunging me forward as he stared in disbelief at the road infront of him.

"Im sorry, what did you just say?"

"That I want you to take my virginity? V-card? Cherry? Damn Rafe how else am I supposed to say it?"

"And," there was a pause in his voice like he didn't believe me, "your being serious, correct?"

“Correct.”

“And, come again? I need to hear that one more time.”

“Jesus fuck Rafe, I’m being dead serious, I want you to take my virginity, what about that is so hard to explain?” It came out as more of a yell than a scream, he took a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. He was thinking long and hard, I knew because he always had something to say, and now he wasn’t saying anything at all. It felt like hours had past before he spoke again.

“Why?”

It was my turn for a long sigh.

“Well, I guess I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and I want to do it, but whenever I think about it in my head the only person I can see doing it with is you. You’re the only person I trust enough with my own body, I mean shit,” I had to think for a long time before admitting what came next.

“Whenever someone, you know like Scarlet or whoever, asks about who I’m interested in or whatever it may be, not a single person ever comes to mind except you, it’s like all I see when I look at you is you, everything else is like blurred around you and whenever I think about who the love of my life will be, I always think of you, not some mystery guy that I haven’t met yet.” I didn’t plan for this to be a full confession on how I feel about him, but here I am spilling everything I’ve been holding in my heart for the last three years.

“And I know that sounds fucking stupid I know, I mean we’re still teenagers for crying out loud, but when I’m with you it always feels like I’m home.” I was nearly crying at this point, struggling to get the words out of my chest that had been waiting for so long. He was listening, deadly quiet, and I had no idea what he was thinking for once in my life.

“You know what? Just forget about it, can you take me home please?” I was definitely crying now, it felt like I’d ripped my own heart to shreds. Theres no way he could ever feel the same way about me, he protected me like I was his own blood, not like he was in love with me. My face was nestled into the sleeve of my hoodie as the tears came out. His hands had moved back to the steering wheel now, gripping onto it so tight I thought it might break. The muscles in his forearms almost looked like they were twitching, but he still had the car in park.

He wanted to just grab her and kiss her right now, the girl he'd been in love with since the sixth grade sitting in his passenger seat, her seat, confessing her feelings to him. Rafe knew it was alot for her to ask, but it meant even more to him everything that she had said after her original question. And there was no way in hell he was going to let her get away again.

Rafe reached his hand over to hold onto her tear stained cheek.

"y/n," The bother of them were breathing heavily.

"I'm in love with you," it slipped from my mouth and he leaned in to kiss me. It felt like I had a wave of electricity coursing through my body. His hand grasping onto my face as he leaned over the center console. My hand reaching for his chest, his lips on mine as we intertwined with one another. It felt like everything in my life was complete, and the tension has been released. His fingers tangled in my hair.

It was over before I realized it, and Rafe was driving me home. My breathing hadn't normalized in any way, it was like I needed to throw up my heart to get the knot out. I couldn't stop thinking about the way his had felt on me, the way his lips felt on mine, the way it felt for once in my life like I was loved.

"i'll think about it," his voice cracked.

I leapt out of his car as fast as I could with tears streaming down my face. Did he feel the same? Did he not? My brain was spinning so fast I barely made it inside my bedroom door before collapsing. I wrapped myself up in the thick comforter, a heart full of ache and a body exhauster with sleep.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

[anothertimdrakestan]

Totally F*ckabke

Tim Drake x Reader

(SFW don't worry haha)

Words: 1.8k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hi! Can I request 20 with civilian fem reader and Tim?” (20. well fuck me. "gladly")

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Ok so I don’t know who you want to say what and I believe with every ounce of my being that it could 1000% go either way and it’s totally cute so I decided why not write both! Thank you for the inspo!

Reader -> Tim

Public speaking was never your strong suit. You’d like to meet a person who doesn’t get sweaty, jittery, and just a complete nervous wreck during presentations. It didn’t help that this was one of those shitty presentations where the class got graded on paying attention so all eyes really were on you and you were the last presentation of the day. With note cards shaking in your sweaty hands you slowly walked to the front of the room, looking at your classmates who looked bored out of their mind.

Making your way to the front of the room you stopped when your teacher screeched “Timothy! No sleeping in class! What is this? The fourth time I’ve caught you this week?” Glancing up you watched as the school genius rolled his eyes, lazily sauntering to the front of the class slumping into a front row seat. With a yawn Tim propped his head up on his arm mumbling something about the irrelevance of this class for someone of his intellect. While you couldn’t help but agree, you needed to ace this presentation to secure your grade for the semester.

Finally done with the situation, the class’s attention turned to you. Taking a deep breath you began, hoping you wouldn’t run out of time before the bell; trying not to look at the notecards was easy for the first few slides, but nearing the end you needed to be reminded of a key fact to your presentation. Looking down at your notecards you realize you’d smudged almost all the words with your shaking, sweaty hands. So frustrated with yourself you just let slip “Well fuck me” with a groan. While this may have shocked any normal class it was what Tim said next that shook the world.

“Gladly” With that your high school classroom descended into chaos. Your teacher continuously switched between yelling at you for cursing and Tim for even worse while some people in the class whooped and patted Tim on the back and certain girls glared at you for drawing Tim’s attention. Standing in front of the class, a blushing mess, you wanted to melt into the floor and die in one of the cracks in the floor.

Suddenly the bell rang, the majority of the students in your class stood up as you froze, realizing you probably just flunked this class. Deciding you needed to stay back and beg for the teacher’s forgiveness you pressed yourself to the wall and watched students filter out, some winking at you, some glaring, and some making wildly inappropriate gestures.

After begging for another chance and explaining your outburst your teacher let you off, clearly more upset with Tim, who had already left the classroom. As a student who normally worked really hard she let you go, but you had to make a whole new presentation as punishment. More work, but not a flunk so it was a win. Thanking her profusely you practically skipped out of the class, all had not been lost!

Abruptly turning towards the exit you missed a certain classmate waiting outside the classroom for you. “Y/n- wait up!” recognizing the voice you rolled your eyes and kept walking, but you couldn’t help a little smirk at the idea of Tim - Mr. Future Wayne Enterprises CEO waiting for you. As you opened one of the double exit doors he sprung out the other jumping in front of you, looking a little regretful and surprisingly nervous. Stopping in your tracks you crossed your arms and waited for him to talk.

“So, um, I just wanted to say sorry cuz I, um, I just kinda blurted it out and I’m really sleep deprived - like all the time, I practically live off coffee you don’t even know - that’s not the point, basically totally my bad, but like: can you blame me you’re really pretty and very nice plus I think you’re smart even though you don’t show it off but what I mean is, uh, please accept my apology. Plus I heard you get to do the presentation again so that’s good!” Finally he paused to breathe, you took a moment letting it all sink in and somehow finding his exasperation cute. Tim looked up at you with expectant eyes. With a sigh you decided it was fine. Smiling up at him you nodded. “It’s okay, plus pretty boy you’re not so un-fuckable yourself” watching his face flush was payback enough.

“Well if you think so, maybe I can... make it up to you? I can help you with the second presentation?” you agreed, liking the idea of getting to know the sleep deprived, fast-talking, genius coffee monster. “It’s a date!” you smiled, exchanging numbers before you walked off, unable to wipe a grin off your face. What you didn’t notice was Tim behind you grinning punching a fist in the air mouthing “YES” as you walked away.  

Tim -> Reader

With a yawn you cursed yourself for covering the late shift for y/b/f at Big Belly Burger, especially after a long day of school. No one ever came in but the store was open 24/7 so for the night it was just a chef who was surfing the internet with earbuds in and you, trying not to sleep on the cash register. When the clock hit 3am you decided it was time for your shift drink, black coffee. 

While you were in the back grabbing a coffee mug you could’ve sworn you heard the entrance bell jingle, but it was probably just your imagination. Stretching your arms you made your way back towards the coffee pot and saw four boys sitting at the bar. Every single one looked different, the tallest looked bored, like he didn’t want to be there while the second tallest looked expectant, constantly messing with the shortest, ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, and just constantly mothering the young boy who looked about ready to fight anyone who messed with him again. In the back of the group was a lean looking boy, he yawned and looked intently at the coffee pot you had begun brewing, he pushed his slightly messy hair back and you couldn’t help but trail your eyes down to the skin showing when he raised his hand... 

“Hey princess a little help over here?” the tallest boy raised an eyebrow at you, snapping you out of your moment as you rushed up to the counter with a smile. “Yeah, sorry, long night. No one usually comes in this late but what can I get for ya?” putting on your best smile you couldn’t help but steal glances at the yawning boy, while the other two older looking guys were good looking, he was the only one who radiated kindness and a lack of the overconfidence the other three carried themselves with, he reminded you of yourself. 

Taking their order you had to shake the chef awake, but he began preparing the food. Walking out you noticed the boys had stayed at the bar, clearly waiting to order drinks from you. “Alright what do we want? Milkshake, coffee, soda pop, or water?” the tallest answered first, “Chocolate milkshake!” while the kid looked up at the once motherly figure as he replied, “I’ll do a vanilla and Damian, uh the kid, will take a water. What about you Tim?” mentally logging the two youngest’s names you and Tim made eye contact for the first time, looking directly at you he lost all form of language. Trying to cover for him you asked, “saw you looking at the coffee pot earlier, can I get you some?” he nodded, looking down as one of the boys started laughing. “Jay stop please” came from Tim. 

Trying to break some tension you said “So little fella here is Damian, tall and brooding is Jay, english major is Tim, and the one who paid is Dick” you waited for confirmation. Slightly impressed the boys nodded, adding that they were brothers. Chatting while you prepared and blended their shakes you realized they were the Wayne brothers, but you didn’t want to embarrass them. You were so tired, your brain holding no self control, wanting to learn more about the boys, especially Tim. Learning that Dick demanded they bond every other week and this was tonight’s chosen activity you understood the different boy’s emotions. 

While handing each boy their drink you held on to the handle in hopes you’d touch Tim’s hand. “Uh it’s hot here, grab the handle then I’ll let go” feeling his hand wrap around yours made the both of you blush and clearly distracted Tim as he dropped the mug of coffee. “Well fuck me” Tim groaned, he jumped up glaring at his brothers as the laughed, the two of you began wiping up the mess. Tim hopped over the bar to help you clean on your side where the majority of the coffee was spilled, you couldn’t help but be impressed with his agility. While both of you bent down below the bar you decided to be brave, whispering in his ear, “you said ‘fuck me’ and I just want you to know I would gladly” he completely flushed and you popped up, throwing out paper towels. 

Tim eventually rose from behind the bar, still blushing uncontrollably and smiling. “Shit lemme get behind that bar I want what Drake’s having princess” Jason began to get up with a smirk before he was pulled down by Dick. “Sorry buddy she’s clearly going for Timbers.” Dick smiled approvingly while the youngest Wayne rolled his eyes, tired with the flirting. “TT y/n I believe it is, I can see our food is ready but please take all the time you need trying to get with my brother but can I please eat while the two of you idiots make eyes at each other.” a wildly embarrassed Tim leaped over the bar again, this time going for Damian. 

Spinning on your heels you grabbed the food and placed it in front of each boy. As they ate you chatted with them. Damian and Jason were clearly bored with the small talk while Dick couldn’t stop grinning. Before leaving Tim tried to hype himself up to get your number. As the other boys walked out he stayed with hopeful eyes. Not having to say anything you knew what he wanted. “Would you like a receipt?” you asked with a wink, again unable to form coherent words he nodded. Handing him your number on a folded piece of paper, you kissed his cheek over the bar and waved goodbye. Watching him walk away unable to wipe a grin off his face as his brothers patted him on the back you felt like you could actually see a future with Tim.

[aizawaskittenwhore]

internal affairs

pairing: shota aizawa x poc!reader

words: 5.6k (LMFAOOOO I GOT CARRIED AWAY ENJOY) lowercase vv intentional

warnings/kinks: alcohol, swearing, degradation, praise, spit if you squint, breeding kink???ish sorta kinda yeah, begging, use of the pet name kitten, bondage, caught while masturbating

synopsis: aizawa thinks sex is generally a waste of time and energy. after finding you, (his close friend and coworker) in a...compromising position one night when he’s returning something to your dorm, he learns some information that has him wanting to waste some time with you..and energy. ;)

a/n: it’s been forever since i’ve written smut let alone with a poc reader so go easy on me LMFAOOOO

nsfw below the cut, let’s get it!

shota aizawa could, honestly, live without sex.

he just didn’t see the necessity of it, all the exhaustion and sweat just for a sudden rush of dopamine that lasts all of a minute before the stickiness sets in. before exhaustion settles over every muscle and renders you immobile, confined to the infamous postcoital wet spot while you make plans to wash your sheets—

as soon as you can regain control of the burn in your lungs, that is.

in between teaching during the day, patrolling in the evenings while still managing to grade papers, establishing lesson plans, taking care of his cat yuki and occasionally having to watch over his more “at-risk” students (cough midoriya cough) sex just didn’t take enough priority in his life for him to be interested in it. his right hand did the job just fine most nights, and he didn’t see the need to involve another person when it came to something he was more than proficient at handling by himself. he had no shame in the way he chose to live his life, it was practical and didn’t interfere with any of his responsibilities; a perfect setup.

at least, until he told you this same information over drinks one friday.

“please say you’re joking.” you chuckle, brows aloft in amusement. your fingertips dance along the rim of your shot glass before you raise it to your lips, the bitter and potent sake you ordered beginning to blossom warmly across your cheeks. “i’m serious. the hell would i gain from having some complete stranger try to learn how to please me when i can just do it myself?” aizawa queries, index finger and thumb taking residence along the upper neck of his beer bottle, grimacing harshly as he takes another swig. “i always get this shit every time we come here, and every time it’s always terrible.” he sets the bottle to his left, reaching for a shot glass instead to wash down the acrid taste. the bar is moderately populated today, with other pros scattered among tables and booths while engrossed in their own conversations; the background noise serving as the perfect buffer for the x-rated nature of your conversation.

you normally hate drinking after work, it always made you sluggish for the rest of the night, but aizawa owed you a favor after you took on the grading process of 1-a’s exams while he went out on patrol a few nights ago. he hadn’t wanted to ask so much of you as you were already training class 1-b and doing presentations for general studies that week, but after seeing the state of exhaustion the man was in you’d insisted, suggesting he get the bill next time the two of you hung out to make up for it. “but don’t you get tired of it? you know....masturbating?” you pry, right hand coming up to make a crude jerking motion to emphasize your point. “ i mean...you already know what you like, and the quickest way to get yourself there. there’s no exploration, no variety, you don’t get to really try anything new.” a teasing smile already settled across your lips.

aizawa falters for a moment, mouth pulled into a tight stance that signals his contemplation. head low, shoulders hunched, appearing to deeply ponder your question and how to answer it. you worry, for a moment, that you may have overstepped in your attempt to get a rise out of your quiet friend. however, worry soon liquifies into a fierce heat as a low chuckle rattles through him; shota glancing up at you through rebellious strands of hair that, regardless of his quirk, never seem to stay in place. “and what, y/n , would you happen to know about sexual exploration?” he shoots back, two slender fingers and a calloused thumb sending another shot down his throat with ease.

you flush, all your nerves on high alert as his rich, onyx irises seem to detect the growing arousal settling between your thighs, pleased at the reaction his question emitted. “i-i’m just saying that it’s got to get boring sometimes...just doing the same old routine whenever you’re in the mood!” you stutter, clearing your throat after you choke on the last syllable of your sentence. “that wasn’t my question.” he remarks, eyes slicing through any attempt at keeping your composure, yet you don’t budge.

“well, if you just have to know aizawa -“ you drag out the final consonant to mock his inquisitive nature, before continuing your tangent, “-sex doesn’t always have to be about the orgasm. i mean sure, it’s a pretty fucking fun part of it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the foreplay, the newness of being with someone you haven’t been with before that really just...ties it all together. figuring out what they like, having them explore what you like, letting them take you in new and different ways...” you trail off, a blush now having settled across your cheeks, albeit impossible to clock thanks to the deep brown reach of your skin complexion.

“it’s worth the effort, is what i’m sayin’. you never know, you might like things that you didn’t think you would...like getting tied up or spit on or something..” you finish, now feeling his gaze settle over you like a blanket fresh out of the dryer. you quickly busy yourself with thanking your bartender as she slides you the tab, trying checking out the damage so you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with aizawa after that very honest admission. he quickly swipes the little book from your reach, depositing the black card inside with minimal resistance and returning the tab to its original position with a “don’t. i owe you, remember?”

damned cat-like reflexes.

fuck pro-hero training.

fuck the growing amount of slick saturating (and ruining) the simple maroon panties you’d chosen when getting ready for work today.

and most of all, fuck shota aizawa for being able to make your blood run hot by paying a fucking tab and giving you a look or two.

“right. thanks, by the way. but if i can’t get up for that meeting nezu’s holding tomorrow, i’m blaming you.” you’re hoping a bit of humor will distract you from the way your body is overheating from being within such close proximity to him, and the way your core is pulsing around nothing as if it were fiending for his presence. “not my fault you’re a lightweight, so blame me all you want sweetheart.” shota dryly rebounds, a mirthful smile on his face in response to the way you roll your eyes and suck your teeth, flipping him off.

“if you wanted to fuck me, you could’ve just asked.”

you’d pale, if you could.

your jaw collapses, eyelashes batting double time while you struggle to process what the fuck just came out of his mouth. six seconds go by before you begin babbling, voicing your opposition to his prior statement with phrases such as “wait wait wait, what did you sayyyy?” and ”bye because that didn’t even come out my mouth i-“

while he just...laughs. he finds your attempts to clarify your alleged non-existent sexual attraction to him hilarious, and even mentions that he finds it adorable as the two of you begin to make your way back to the teachers’ dorms. he holds the door open for you as you head inside, chuckling to himself as you continue to playfully curse him out while you walk to the women’s side of the building.

that was seven hours ago.

it’s currently 12:47am, and you’re struggling to catch even a wink of shuteye. you’re starting to regret having that sake earlier, since alcohol always fucks with your sleep schedule, but that isn’t what’s keeping you up tonight.

no, no, that would happen to be the unprofessional and honestly straight up shameful thoughts you’re having about your friend and coworker, shota. vivid images of those slender fingers sliding into you one by one, each one filling you more than the last, float past your lids every time you close your eyes. daydreams of his tongue on your clit, tracing patterns into the sensitive nerves while he calls you his good girl, his kitten, his slut, hands forcing your thighs apart as they shake from each and every time you cum around those devilish lips of his. fantasies of his capture weapon binding your hands behind you, fingers dangling helplessly while his hand rests on the small of your back to serve as leverage for each and every time he slides in. face pressed into the mattress as he fucks into you slowly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of having him so deep so quickly. voice hoarse, tone pleading when you beg him to take you deeper, harder, promising to take it like a good girl would if he would just keep hitting that spot that makes your toes curl, yes right there, fuck-

you flip your pillow over in an attempt to cool the sweltering heat below the waistband of your panties, but it’s no luck. you should've been asleep two hours ago. staring hopelessly at the ceiling, lost in your mind as you watch the streetlights’ beams flicker through your window, streams of light disturbed by nearby tree branches. right hand slowly sliding down your body, from your breasts to the curves of your waist before settling right on the top of your panties. your fingers begin to flutter above your dripping core.

‘this is wrong. i shouldn’t do this.’ you chide yourself, but your body has already made up it’s mind.

and soon a cord wound so tightly within your body it could suffocate you...snaps.

the tip of your middle finger dips down to your pussy to collect the slick gathered there, and you groan at the sheer amount of it.

he really got you fucked up.

thinking of how he would tease, you circle your throbbing clit, touch feather light to the point where it feels like borderline torture. middle finger and ring finger conjoined to shallowly dip inside you once, twice, then three times before filling you completely.

but it’s not enough.

it’s not him.

you sigh at the way the tips brush against your g-spot, beckoning them forward until you physically arch into your hand as though it were connected to the subject of your little self love session.

“fuck...”

shota’s pov

he’d taken a short break from his current grading session to stretch, and grab a small snack when he noticed it.

you’d left your id tag with him when you’d turned in for the evening, as the two of you had used his id to get on to school grounds since your hands were full with your work bag, your purse, and takeout from the bar. he must have forgotten to give it back to you after you asked him to hold it, he was too busy admiring how cute you looked while trying to prove you didn’t want to fuck him.

not that he would mind if you did, of course.

he’d developed something of a crush on you over the past few weeks since you’d been working more closely together as hero course teachers, and he got to know you outside of a strictly work environment.

you’re funny, intelligent, clever (which is a turn on for him since he needs someone he can bounce off of), and it doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes.

really, really easy on the eyes. fuck.

he scratched the back of his neck as he felt the familiar flush begin to creep up his face, hoping the pain would will away the consistent hard-on he got whenever he focused too much on your smile, or the way your shoulders shake when you laugh, or the curve of your hips and how they look like they would be a perfect fit for his vice grip as he eased you onto his dick, looking you right in the eyes before drilling up into you. eyes shimmering with such pretty tears from how sensitive she was, neck littered with marks from his earlier ministrations, voice shaky as she begged him to fill her, pump her full of every last drop cause she’s been so so good-

‘damn it shota. just go give her the fucking tag, she’ll need it tomorrow morning.’ he snapped internally, looking at his tented black sweats with dismay. it took everything within him not to make a sly comment on how getting himself off is never boring when it’s to a different fantasy of you each time, but if there’s nothing else he prided himself upon, it was his self discipline.

forcing himself to remember the time he caught hizashi shaving his left testacle and only the left one to make his erection less obvious, he grabbed her id and his own, and made his way to the women’s wing of the hero course dorms. it was old school, men weren’t allowed on the women’s side and vice versa on campus, however with this being the hero course some were granted special admin privileges should there ever be an emergency.

he happened to be one of them.

making quick work of finding your room, he leaned against the threshold, left arm poised to knock when he heard a soft hiss. a little rustling, and another sound, indiscernible thanks to your door.

“fuck...”

body stiffening at the swear, he paused, wondering if maybe you had been hurt or perhaps injured. it was in his nature to, despite his sarcastic and faux-apathetic disposition, be a hero no matter what. using what little force he could in an attempt to not frighten a possible intruder or make a bad situation worse, shota silently swung your door open and scanned the room for any possible threats.

he didn’t find any.

instead he found you, lacy black panties around your left ankle as you curled your middle and ring finger inside of you, moans bubbling out of your throat with a hand twisting and pinching your pretty brown nipples as you went. still completely unaware of his presence you sigh before letting out the prettiest and neediest little whine that went straight to his dick.

“mm...shota..please baby~“ you keen, fingers quickening their pace inside of your pussy, the streetlights from the nearby sidewalk casting a copper toned glean on the strings of slick connecting your fingers to the soaked paradise that was between your thighs. he freezes, thinking you’ve noticed his presence when it hits him-

you were fucking your fingers as if they were his own.

you’d said his name.

you wanted to fuck him just as badly as he wanted to fuck you.

and despite being a pro and having been in life threatening situations, instances where he’s had to make split second decisions without worrying whether they were right or not....here he has absolutely no idea what to do. he feels dirty, watching you in such a...compromising situation. even though you just said his name with about two-

now three-

-soaked fingers sliding in and out of your cunt, he knows he shouldn’t be here. out of respect for you, he takes about two steps backwards and tries to leave the room as silently as he came in, willing the universe to just let him have this as a pleasant memory for when he gets into bed tonight. but, like most times in his 31 years of existence, he can never get a moment of peace.

so he manages to trip over your shoes from earlier right as he was about to hit the hallway.

oh, and drops the id tags, of course.

y/n’s pov

the noise sends a chill through each and every nerve of your body, eyes firing open only to be greeted with the sight of a very flustered aizawa vehemently cursing out a pair of your boots, two id tags pooled at his feet. “what the fuck?!” digits wrenched from your body and hands clawing for your duvet in a last ditch attempt to preserve what little modesty you had left. “i- i just came to give you your id, and i heard you swear so i thought you might’ve been hurt or something, i didn’t see anything!” aizawa spat apprehensively, while simultaneously cursing his dick for choosing this particular moment to get incredibly aroused, and thanking himself for tucking his erection into his waistband earlier before he’d walked over in case he ended up talking to you. “oh my god. oh..my god i am so fucking sorry i-i know it was wrong and i totally understand if you don’t wanna be friends anymore just please don’t tell nezu i really really love this job-“ you begin to wail, teardrops nestling into your waterline before finally pooling over and breaking you, causing you to cry even more.

“i’m not mad at you y/n.” aizawa coos softly.

“-and i know i crossed so many lines and it’s selfish for me to ask that of you but i don’t know what i would do without UA-“

“y/n.” he calls, sitting beside you on the pillow soft mattress, his capture weapon pooling to the floor and briefly reminding him he’d brought it with him to begin with.

“-and if i’m being honest i’ve had a crush on you for forever and i was just too much of a coward to come and tell you myself so instead of being a woman about it i kept having these fantasies and i’m so fucking sorry aizawa-“

“shota. call me shota.” he tilts your chin up with his right hand so he can see your pretty brown orbs swimming in tears, before taking his left hand and thumbing away the still-wet tear tracks. you blink away your tears, brows furrowing in confusion at why he’s not angry, why you’re not packing up your dorm and turning in your letter of resignation right now. “it sounded so pretty when you’d said it earlier, why stop now?” he murmurs, those powerful ebony eyes taking you in by the gallon, half lidded as he looks you up and down.

so he did see everything.

and he wasn’t mad.

and you swear on everything you love that you just saw his length twitch through those black sweats, so he definitely shared the same sentiment.

“s-so you’re sure you’re not mad?” you sniffle, hands reaching to cover his as you lean into his lithe form, needing to feel his warm and comforting embrace. “positive.” he looks down at the way you’re nuzzled into his chest, arms shifting so that they’re wrapped around your back as you let out a sigh of relief. he softly taps you after a few minutes, needing to shift to a more comfortable position as his dick is pressing into his stomach this way, and it’s only making him firmer.

“can...can i kiss you?” he asks gingerly, heart fluttering at the way your eyes meet his and your head slowly nods, fingers fumbling to find his hand so you can hold it. his lips slot against yours, moving tenderly at first before the kiss begins to increase in intensity, your tongue moving fluidly with his, pulling away only to breathe before diving back into one another.

“those pretty lips taste so sweet...makes me wonder if you’re sweet all over, hm?”

you preen at the compliment, body craving his touch, his energy, his undulations, everything about him.

“tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll stop.” he mutters against your neck, soft kisses quickly turning to him sucking marks into your collarbone. it drove him insane, watching the reddish purple hues blossom across your skin mingling with the mocha of the rest of your body.

you didn’t have any intention on stopping though.

not for a fucking second.

“please...need you so bad.” you sigh close to his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth and dipping a hand between the two of you to paw at his throbbing length. that seemed to do the trick just fine, his pulse spiking before he flipped the two of you with a quickness you’d only seen him use in battle. hands reaching for the nape of his neck as he tugged his shirt over his head, you watched in awe; you’d known sho was fit as he patrolled nightly, along with the consistent training he’d engaged in with his students. you just didn’t expect a simple long sleeve sweater to give way to toned abdominals, slender yet powerful arms in addition to a thick black happy trail that dipped below his waistband.

it wasn’t until he’d tugged down the lace covering your slit, (so hard it ripped), that you realized just how much he craved you. gazing at your core intently he spread you apart with his middle and forefinger, eyes nearly rolling out of his head with how you were dripping so much for him. you tried to shift your hips in an effort to get him to do something, anything, but that was shut down with a hand forcing your right thigh outwards and spreading you even wider.

“no no. keep them spread. let me watch you try to keep them open while you’re shaking...let me watch you fall apart..” he demands, head diving between your thighs to lap at your aching clit like a man starved. your legs rise only to settle on his shoulders, ankles crossed behind his head while your toes curl in euphoria. there were men before him, but none of them ever took care of you like this, never looked you in the eyes as their fingers started to curl in just the right places, never sighed in content at your taste as their eyes rolled back. never pried themselves away from your cunt just to add a pornographic amount of spit to your southernmost lips, strings of saliva connecting your twitching hole to his deliciously long tongue.

shota was unlike any man you had ever met before.

and that was what made him so intoxicating.

“ah..s-shota, please-” you whine, sensing your climax within reach. “please what, kitty? i won’t know if you don’t tell me.” he remarks, dipping back down to suck harshly at your swollen bud as he adds a third finger, length throbbing at the way you arch into his tongue. “m-make me-ah-make me...feel good...please sho” you stutter, face burning. “mm. i thought i was already making you feel good love? unless...there’s something else you want..” he trails off, smirking. your thighs are quivering now, muscles burning as you strain to keep them from crushing shota’s head, although with the way he’s devouring your pussy whole right now he doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

“i need you..to make me cum..” you whimper, winding a few fingers into his unruly mane of hair while your other hand settles above your mouth, trying to hide the obvious embarrassment on your face from being so exposed.

“well why didn’t you say so baby? after all, you did exactly what i told you to, and good girls get whatever they ask for.” he grins before working double time to bring you to the edge, hero stamina and strength coming out in full force with the way his fingers never cease in their abuse on your g-spot, refusing to quit until your thighs finally tighten around his head and your breath catches. his tongue replaces his fingers and you briefly pout at the slight change in fullness, but it doesn’t matter the second he coils his tongue upwards and rubs into your sensitive bud at a steady pace. you cum all over his face, and you never thought you’d see such a typically serious and stoic man look so...elated, a permanent beam stuck to him with superglue as he swallows as much of your essence as he can. chest heaving, body weightless, you sit up.

you gently coax him back up your body, shota’s arms caging you to your bed as you kiss him deeply, fingers fumbling to palm him through his sweats. “s’ my turn...wanna show you how much i like you..”

he nods, opting to trade places with you whilst helping you slide his sweats and boxers down his thighs, length springing up in anticipation. you’d had a inkling of how big he was from small glances on occasion, but you didn’t account for a solid eight and a half inches down your esophagus. his dick was pretty, a few veins running up and down the length of it, and tip just as pink as his kiss-swollen lips. the only thing that intimidated you was how thick it was. but you’d cross that bridge when it came to it.

saliva floods your mouth and you grasp his dick at the base, eyes wide as you track a bead of precum rolling it’s way down his tip before licking it up in one long hot stripe. “hm. tastes good.” you giggle, eyes locking with his before you relax your jaw and swallow as much of him as you can comfortably fit in your mouth, a shot of electricity running through you when shota lets out a deep throaty groan. “fuck...such a good fucking girl. you look so pretty like this.” shota sighs, left hand working it’s way through your coils and tightening its grip, but never pushing. he lets you work at your own pace, his own cheeks flushing when you interrupt the bobbing motion you had set to coyly circle your slick tongue around his tip. your mouth is hot and slick, encapsulating his dick in a velvety vacuum seal while you work him over and over; you haven’t had an insane amount of experience, but you’re observant of what motions garner positive reactions. it’s a combination so dangerous that it has shota’s right hand grappling your comforter for stability, breath quickening as he wonders how the hell he’s managed to last this long.

“you’re gonna suck me dry kitty...” he moans.

at least until you take not one, but both hands, add an amount of spit so copious it’s obscene, and begin to stroke his length slowly and effortlessly whilst maintaining eye contact.

with that little stunt, you’ve officially opened pandora’s box. and there’s no closing it now.

“come here.” aizawa commands, sitting up straighter to pull your hips into his, and before you know it you’re on your stomach, wrists pinned to your black sheets by agile hands. “if you wanna stop here tell me now baby.” he croons in your ear, feather light kisses pressed into your shoulder. “we can watch a movie, cuddle, whatever you’re comfortable with. but if we keep going like this-”

his length presses into your ass and a shiver shoots down your spine.

“-i can’t promise you i won’t ruin you y/n. fuck you full of my cum, pounding into you until i leave you drooling and sloppy just for me, have you scream my name so loud even the League knows who you belong to. you’d be all mine. my pretty kitty. is that what you want?” shota asks, one of his calloused hands sliding down the curves of your body to grip at the soft, tender skin of your ass.

“shota.....please. it’s all i want, just take me already-“ you sob, voice gathering in your throat. a sensual chuckle, and then you feel it: inch after inch slipping into your tight warm walls, the stretch causing your eyes to brim with tears born from more pleasure than actual pain.

“ah! you’re stretching me out so much...” you keen, eyelashes fluttering in ecstasy. ��aw kitty...i haven’t even started yet.” shota teases, stretching to his right to grab his capture weapon, and bringing both your wrists behind you. “now..you’ve been so good for me tonight, i think you deserve a reward. earlier, i believe you mentioned something about being tied up?” he binds your arms, leaving your digits to flail helplessly right above the small of your back, where his hand has now come to rest.

“f-fuck me! please...i’m tired of waiting- i just wanna be yours!” you beg, hips jolting back in impatience and need, your pussy throbbing at the sensation of his tip nudging the deepest parts of you. “so fucking needy. i’ll give you exactly what you’re craving sweetheart.” he smirks, before dragging his hips as far back as he can, length retreating from your warm walls before slamming right back in. one hand on your shoulders to keep your face pressed into your pillows, the other taking reign on your hips as a guide to rut against you. your back arches so deliciously for him, ass jiggling on every thrust as he watches your body impale itself on his length. he’s so deep, his tip consistently ramming into your cervix over and over and over; your body is so overwhelmed and so needy, so full but not full enough. it’s too much, but you want more. “fill me up sho! i want it— i need it so bad” you cry, tears spilling over and staining your pillowcase. “wouldn’t you love that, having me fill this pretty pussy up with all my cum hm?” “no wonder you’re moaning for me like a whore, you want everyone to know who’s doing this to you.” shota pants, quickening his pace. “yes! i’m yours all yours!” you moan, pussy throbbing at his fierce pace, you can feel the sweat gathering between your body and the sheets but you don’t care. you use the leverage from your shoulders to push back onto him, chasing your high.

“that’s it, come on, fuck me back. come on kitty it’s your dick after all~” he breathes, grinning at the way you’re drooling and how your eyes are rolling at the way he’s fucking you.

“fuck, you must really wanna cum again hm? such a greedy, slutty girl” you nod, head spinning as he tightens your restraints and strokes into you as deep as he can. you feel the familiar quivering of your legs, a tell tale sign you’re close to cumming. “sho—ah!-sho please! i wanna cum please i’m so close-“ you plead, voice unsteady. “well since you asked so nicely...of course kitty” he acquiesces, a hand slithering between your folds to softly rub your clit while he drills into you, and your body nearly self destructs. “f-fuck! ah—thank you shota, oh god, mmm you’re so good to me” you babble, body floating through space as he rubs you through your orgasm.

and once again, the ball is in his court. you shudder, head leaning over your shoulder with lidded eyes to try and look at aizawa. his hair is down now, and a deep blush has taken residence across his cheeks, chest heaving as sweat glistens on his chest and slowly drips down his toned stomach. he hasn’t stopped fucking you, but this time his rhythm’s gotten sloppy, and his teeth have sunken into his bottom lip so hard you think he’ll pierce through it.

he’s close, and you want every last drop.

“make me take it shota—show me what you do to good girls~” you purr, eyes widening when he loosens your restraints and turns you over, and practically folds you in half. your ankles are by your ears now as he pounds into you, and everything is so much deeper than before. your pussy tightens at the new angle, and you feel another orgasm beneath the surface, though you don’t know if you can take it. “it’s too much! i can’t take it—“ you whine, tits jiggling as he swoops down and paws at one, making you cry out. “yes you can baby, just one more, come on make me proud just give me one fucking more” he growls, the heat of his order hot against your ear. “god i’m gonna paint these slutty little walls white—gonna fill you up so good” he moans, shota’s dirty confession egging you on as your fingers toy with your achingly sensitive bundle of nerves. “that’s it. play with it, show me how you do it when i’m not there-“ and that slick fucking comment is what sends you tumbling off the edge for your third time tonight. “fuck! i’m gonna cum—i’m gonna make you all mine, all for me” you grin before raking your nails up and down his back to encourage him. “give it to me, i don’t wanna have anyone else kiss me without knowing what you taste like~” and soon hot spurts of cum paint your insides and flood you with a warm, thick feeling. shota immediately crashes his lips onto yours, holding you tightly. you can’t really explain the current state of your emotions, but you feel full, and content. meanwhile the current object of your affection is nuzzled into your neck, peppering kisses over all the love bites he’d inflicted earlier as a means of apology, though you didn’t mind.

it would be a pain in the ass to cover up tomorrow, but you could always just wear a scarf or a turtleneck to compensate due to the colder weather. it wasn’t until the two of you had cleaned up and rehydrated that he spoke: “by the way, i like you too. and have. for a while now. just in case that wasn’t clear.” he stated, arms wrapped around your middle as he began to doze off.

“you know you probably should’ve led with that-“

“shut up.”

so yeah, shota aizawa could live without sex.

question is: why the hell would he want to, when you’re here?

[hatsukeii]

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫

𝐏𝐭. 𝟏- 𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟓𝐤

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠���: 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠

He was a Tsukishima.

The family of successful people.

Scholars, athletes, politicians, the list goes on.

In the Tsukishima family line, academics were essential. Skills were essential. Talent was essential. Foolishness was not tolerated. Weakness was not tolerated. Clumsiness was not tolerated. Everyone was expected to be at tip top shape at all times, both physically and mentally. Manners were a must. Manners make a man, or so do the elders constantly remind. Gold medals were expected to be seen after competitions. Anything below that was worthless. The Tsukishimas were raised to be in a higher class than others. They mingled with the wealthy, frowned upon the powerless and poor. Mental health was the least of the family’s worries. They had money, they had a reputation, they had a talented bloodline, what was there to worry about anyways?

His full name was Tsukishima Kei, and he was the outcast.

His mother averted her eyes from his direction as he treaded down the flight of stairs to the dining area. She’s always done this. The moment Kei was diagnosed with farsightedness, the Tsukishima family knew he was no good. An omen, they said. With those weird, clunky glasses, the family constantly made passive aggressive comments regarding his sight. You thought he would be safe from his parents? Oh no, you would be wrong. Akiteru was hugely favoured over Kei. He was handsome, tall, well built, smart, he had a bright future ahead of him. Kei? He was scrawny, had sight problems, felt inferior to everybody else. The family had deemed him no good as a child, that wasn’t going to change because of puberty.

He sat at the table quietly, munching on his toast. As usual, his mother was preparing breakfast for Akiteru. As the older sibling jogged down the stairs, he was met with a welcoming smile, along with a bowl of steaming hot ramen. “Good morning son! Come over and have some food won’t you?” Hearing his cue to leave, Kei grabbed his bag, wiped the crumbs off his mouth, and headed out the door, but not before giving his older brother a tiny wave, in which he returned with a small grin and a peace sign. Perhaps Akiteru was the one person that didn’t treat him like shit. Maybe it was because if he did, Kei would tell everyone how he lied about being the ace of Karasuno. Although his kindness was fuelled by a shallow reason as so, it felt nice being treated well once in a while, even if it wasn’t truly genuine.

“Tsukki! Tsukki! Wait up!” Yamaguchi yelled from behind him as he jogged towards the blond. “Morning Tsukki!” The two stood in silence, waiting for the next train to arrive. This routine had been going on for years. Every morning Yamaguchi would meet up with Tsukishima at the train station, then they would head off together. Yamaguchi was one more thing the Tsukishimas frowned upon. When Kei beamed about how he defended the poor boy who was being bullied, instead of praises he received criticism. Bucketloads of criticism from everyone in his family. What was supposed to be an honourable act of kindness towards the less fortunate became the butt of a joke for the family to berate endlessly. To them, Yamaguchi was the perfect example of the weak. The weak were not tolerated. Tsukishimas were raised to frown upon them. They were higher than others. They minded their own business and had a reputation to keep. The world saw them as elegant, graceful, and privileged. They didn’t see them as charitable, soft, or weak. However, Kei paid no mind to his family’s stupid, cold hearted, absolutely fucking ridiculous “ideals”. He was an outcast, would forever be an outcast, might as well live on his own terms if his family couldn’t accept him.

“So, what’d you get on the test? I only managed to score a B-, it was so hard wasn’t it?” He stared at his paper, a huge A written and circled at the top of it. “I mean I think I did-”

“Really good? It’s not an A+. You couldn’t get it perfect so try harder next time. This isn’t good enough.”

His mouth hung open as he stopped abruptly at his words. Oh of course, how could he have forgotten? The constant criticism he received was not only from his family, but from himself as well. His grades were the only valuable thing about him, but it was never good enough. He was top of the class, but never the top of the school. Never the best player on the court. Never the best friend. “Eh, not that great. I should’ve done better considering I spent all day studying for the past week. I got the same score last time too, I doubt it’ll get any better than this.” Scrunching his nose, Yamaguchi leaned in, taking a peek of Tsukishima’s test. “Tsukki, you did so good! Ah, but it’s expected from you, always so harsh on yourself! Chill out a little bit, you’ve got the best grades in our class already! You saying that just makes me sound stupid in your eyes...” Realising the impact his words had on his friend, he stuttered, thinking of something to say. “No, I promise Yamaguchi, you’re not stupid. If you were I wouldn’t have let you befriend me. Please don’t look down upon yourself like that, it’s not good.”

Slinking down the hall, Tsukishima manoeuvred around the sea of students trying to get out of the school, mumbling to himself under his breath. The constant shuffling of feet and people pushing him around were enough to make his head spin and his heart race so much so that he had to stop in the middle of the hall, grabbing his head in an attempt to stop the pulsing. “Move it bro, what the fuck?” Stop. “Dude, don’t just stand there, get out of the way blockhead!” Please, stop. Stumbling his way down the hall, his steps were uneven as his sight became hazy. Cold sweat slid down from his forehead, his chest heaving and his breaths ragged. He needed help. He needed help now, but there was no one. Everyone was too occupied trying to get out of the school. Usually Yamaguchi would be with him but he had art club and stayed behind. Panic attacks were nothing new to him. He would experience them randomly. Everything around him would become everything he feared. Death, disappointment, loss, burden. Yet there was not a single time he was able to calm himself down. He would make someone else worry about him all over again. Maybe he was a burden to people, but he didn’t care anymore. His family hated him enough for his flaws anyways, what’s a few extra people hating him gonna do anyways? He was seeing spots now, staggering down the stairs that he finally reached, when something- or rather someone, walked right into him.

“Hey, please watch where you’re- holy shit... are you okay? I’ll bring you to the nurse hold on-”

“N..no.”

“What?”

“Panic...attack...”

Your eyes widened like saucers as the situation dawned upon you.

“Oh... OH um uh I-”

Cmon stupid, think!

Grabbing his arm, you dragged him into a random classroom, almost tripping over air from him stumbling and his height. Shutting the door behind you, Tsukishima collapsed onto the cold floor, trembling as his eyes darted. You were panicking with him. Hell, you didn’t know how to deal with panic attacks. Pulling out your phone, your fingers tapped furiously as you tried to figure out how you could calm him down. “Mmmm cmon cmon something please...” The sobbing in the background did not help your panic at all. In fact, it made you even more anxious. You couldn’t just leave him here, you had to do something. Anything.

“I- uh, do you need anything? Water? A towel? Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay...stay here..”

Shuffling to his side, you waved your arms around him, trying to figure out what to do next, finally awkwardly settling one of your hands on his back. Giving him occasional pats, your read the instructions on healthline for what to do if someone was going through a panic attack. The next part was to give reassurance.

“I’ll stay here until you’re okay, so don’t worry. Are you feeling any better now?”

Feeling Tsukishima shift, you retracted your hand, putting it on your leg instead. His breathing had finally gone back to normal and he wasn’t shaking anymore. Pushing his glasses back up properly, he grabbed his bag from the floor, pulling the strap over his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be heading out now.”

“Wait!”

He stopped in his tracks, but not sparing even a glance behind him.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t have to know.”

He left without another word.

Because that’s what Tsukishimas do.

They walk away from others and hold their shit together by themselves.

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @tiger1719 @tiredgr3mlin @trashcanweeb @itmekisuu @fandomwriter73 @random-fandomlover @samanthaa-leanne @sneezefiction @bokutokoutarou @skyeackermans @writeiolite @kuroo-thought-of-a-better-un @ewfilthymundane @mariechan123 @saturnmoon @macaronnv @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @artsamber @kaylacinderella @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @tchalameme

[yayroos]

really feeling that 'gifted child' shit again. It's hitting me HARD at work at the moment that there's no grades, no number to work towards. I know I'm doing good work, I know I'm doing well, but there's nothing to quantify that with so I keep trying to push further in the desperate hope that I'll unlock the secret grade scale and they'll give me an A so I can feel like I'm living up to the bare minimum of my potential.

How fucked up is that, an A registers as my bare minimum capability below which I have fucked up. And I know that's ridiculous. And I know how that sounds to people who struggled in school. But here's the thing. If I got a B in maths some time, that was always going to have been met with vague disappointment, from my teachers and parents and from me, even if nobody voiced it. A percentage score in the mid 70s feels like a punch in the gut and a 60 something why did I even bother showing up.

And I don't want to feel like that, but this shit started at age 5 and I was offered no alternative system of getting praise or attention so I clung desperately to it until I could do so no more. I abandoned my degree (and oh god that hurts, to say 'i will never finish that academic achievement because I cannot do it', even for reasons beyond my control.) And now I'm working and I love my job but I can feel myself stretching too far. I can feel myself overextending and picking up too much and the snapback on this is going to be brutal but I don't know how to avoid it because I can't conceptualise any other way of being good enough.

I feel like wasted potential. I have always felt like wasted potential. I started to feel like that at about 6 years old. That I wasn't doing good enough, wasn't scoring high enough, because all anyone ever said about me was that I was smart and bright and quick and conscientious and clever and brilliant. And then an A grade became my normal and stopped being worth really celebrating so I did competitions and scored in the top handful of percent nationally over and over again until those stopped being worth celebrating either. When literally being in the top 1% of my year group in maths and science isn't enough to really feel like an achievement something has gone horribly horribly wrong.

[lyssismagical]

moments of gold and flashes of light

Parkner Week Day 3: “I am very small and I have no money.” / college au / no-powers au

(This is like a Rhodey/Tony!MIT Parkner AU)

(TW: Implied Child Abuse)

 Working at a café on the outskirts of a college campus meant good business, decent tips, and weird hours. A good job for Harley who needs to work weird hours to keep up with his classes, and he makes enough to afford essentials and to keep his head above water in the debt.

It also means he sees a lot of very tired students at those strange hours.

He gets an elbow in the ribs from his coworker, Cassie, who points across the café at an occupied table.

“An order?” Harley asks, forehead creasing. They don’t normally take orders from tables.

“No, we have a policy about sitting in here without ordering. I need you to ask him to either buy something or leave before our boss notices,” Cassie says. She glances down at her watch, frowning at the time. “There’s only a few hours until we’re done, anyways.”

Harley hates the policy. It makes sense why they have it, they’re going to lose a lot of business if the café is always full but nobody’s buying anything, but it doesn’t make it any easier to kick tired teenagers out in the middle of the night.

He sighs and lets Cassie take over the registers as he makes his way to the boy at the table, straightening his deep purple apron as he goes.

“Excuse me?” he says, wincing when his voice cracks.

The boy at the table’s head jerks up, eyes wide behind a thick pair of glasses. He looks young, younger than most people Harley sees coming into the café, but he’s hunched over a stack of textbooks and papers, what looks like a year three astrophysics textbook on top. There’s no way he’s old enough to be in his third year of university.

“Yeah?” the boy asks. He tips his head to the side in question, the light hitting his face and showing off the deep, dark bags under his eyes.

“We have a policy here, you have to buy something to stay.”

The boy winces, hands patting the pockets of his jeans. He pulls out an old wallet, faded Stark Industries logo on the back barely visible, and pops it open.

He rifles through the things in his wallet, dropping a few on the table including a library card, a Booster Juice loyalty card, and a Stark Industries ID. He finds a dollar bill, but otherwise comes up emptyhanded.

“Shit, sorry, I don’t have any money,” the boy says, eyes wide and glassy. He grabs his backpack from between his feet and starts going through the pockets, but they seem just as empty. “I’m so sorry, I guess I used the rest of my cash on rent, and I don’t- I’ll just pack up and head home, no worries-”

“You like coffee?” Harley blurts before he can stop himself. It’s not like he really has much leeway with his budget, but a couple dollars for an obviously stressed, very cute boy seems like a good investment. “I’ll cover it for you. Give me just a moment.”

As soon as he gets a confirming nod, he heads back to where Cassie’s working, and makes a quick coffee with extra caramel, and digs out his wallet to drop a few dollars in the register.

“You’re buying coffee for him?” she says, amused and shaking her head.

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at where the boy is still watching him with his wide, doe eyes. “He had a third year astrophysics textbook. I felt bad.”

Cassie laughs, rolling her eyes at him. “The store’s pretty quiet anyways. You should make yourself one too, and take a fifteen.”

Harley’s not about to pass up that opportunity, so he moves quickly to make himself a matching coffee, and then he heads back over to the boy.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks, sliding one of the coffees over to the boy. “I’m in my second year at MIT, so maybe I could lend you a hand? Or at least be a nice distraction?”

The boy smiles, nodding and gesturing to the chair opposite him. “I’m Peter Parker. Third year at MIT.”

“You seem… young.”

Peter laughs, fingers curling around his coffee with a pleased hum. “Yeah, I’m eighteen. Graduated high school at fourteen, started here at fifteen.”

Harley’s jaw drops open in surprise. He’s nineteen, and in the year below Peter. It’s a bit of a shock. “You’re graduating university at nineteen? Isn’t that a bit scary?”

“I’ve got a job lined up at Stark Industries in New York. I’ve been an unpaid intern every summer for four years, so it’s not as scary as you’d think.” He looks down at his homework, textbooks and binders and loose papers, and frowns. “Stressful, for sure. But scary, not so much.”

As much as he wants to comment on a lot of that, especially about how he’s apparently been interning for SI since he was thirteen, he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he doesn’t have a lot of break left.

He sips at his drink, listening intently as Peter starts rambling about how annoying one of his profs had been the other day, the reason he’s up all night studying at the café. Peter’s pretty, especially when he gets passionate about something, eyes lighting up behind his thick frames, blush high on his cheeks, hands gesturing vaguely. Harley hasn’t made many friends since he left Tennessee, only Cassie and Kate from an off-campus extra-curricular. Peter seems like the kind of person Harley would really enjoy being friends with.

“Harley!” Cassie calls out, much too soon for his liking. “Your fifteen’s up.”

Peter frowns noticeably, finishing off his coffee. “I’ll probably stick around for a bit, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course. And come back whenever, yeah?”

“I’m sure I’ll be back in no time, in need of quiet and caffeine.”

* Turns out, Peter’s not lying. He starts showing up every Thursday night and every few Wednesdays like clockwork, always with his old backpack filled with books and binders, and always with enough for a coffee to make sure he can stay.

Whenever Harley takes his fifteen, he spends it at Peter’s table, sitting across from him and chatting about anything and everything. They trade numbers after three weeks, texting every so often whenever they’ve got the chance. It’s nice to have finally made a friend outside of Gwen and Kate. (Especially a friend as kind and pretty and genius as Peter Parker.)

“Everything okay?” Harley can’t help but ask when Peter shows up, nearly two months after meeting.

Peter’s the same as he always is, backpack slung over one shoulder making his posture lopsided, eyes wide behind his pair of thick glasses, hands shoved into the pocket of his oversized MIT sweater, buying a coffee with extra caramel. Except his eyes are red-rimmed and his voice is thick and scratchy like he’d been crying.

Peter shrugs, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Not really. When do you take your fifteen?”

“He’s taking it right now,” Cassie buts in, elbowing Harley in the ribs. She’s already got Peter’s coffee ready, sitting on the counter, and she’s pouring a second for him. “Take your thirty, I’ll cover for you.”

Harley won’t argue with that, wanting to comfort his new friend. He links their arms together and heads for one of the booths in the far corner instead of their usual table, worry squeezing his chest. It’s only been two months but he cares about Peter a lot. More than he thought possible.

“It’s stupid,” Peter says, but he clutches his drink close to his chest, eyes watery and hands trembling. “My parents want me home for Winter Break.”

“So?”

Harley would kill to be able to afford a flight home to Tennessee for Winter Break. He has to save up all year just to afford making it home for the summer, winter and spring breaks have to be spent on campus or with Gwen who has an apartment in the city. He misses his mom and sister like crazy when he’s away for so long.

Peter scoffs, glassy eyes rolling. “They suck. I’m sure you’ve heard of Richard and Mary Parker before. Yeah, they’re not about to get Parent of the Year awards.”

“Why not?” Harley asks. He certainly knows the two of them, they’re famous scientists, alumni from MIT as well. It’s hard not to know them. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“They don’t care, they never did. Most of my childhood was spent with nannies or babysitters while they were out for business or other things they wouldn’t tell me about. The only time they ever cared was when they were telling me off for blemishing their reputation, or to tell me I needed to work harder if I was ever going to be allowed to get their company.”

Harley frowns, trying to empathize with his pain. He’s never been in a situation like that. In Rose Hill, you could get away with doing pretty much anything, nobody had reputations at stake, consequences were few and far between. Harley once landed himself in jail for a stupid night with people who weren’t really friends. Nobody cared, Harley even became pretty good friends with one of the officers who arrested him. His mom didn’t even have to pay to get him out.

“That really sucks, I’m sorry,” Harley says.

Peter shrugs again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I got a B on a test in astrophysics a month ago.”

“I remember.”

“They’re going to kill me for that. A B is essentially an F in my house. To them, I failed.”

Harley’s frown deepens and he reaches across the table to grab Peter’s hand. “You studied so hard for that test, you were sleep-deprived and upset because of that argument with your roommate. That wasn’t your fault. And either way, a B’s still a good grade.”

“Not to my parents, it’s not.”

“Why does their opinion matter? You’re an adult, they don’t have to control you anymore.”

Peter lets out a humorless laugh, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to cry. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go home for the holidays and I have to take over their company and I have to do what they tell me to do. They control my money, they pay for my tuition, they’re all I’ve got. I don’t have anything else.”

“I’m sorry,” Harley says again, he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, doesn’t know how to make this any easier for him. “Well, if you need anything, feel free to call. I’ll be here all Winter, so I’ll be available to talk if you need to.”

“Thank you.” Peter’s voice breaks and he doesn’t catch the tear in time for Harley not to see it. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. It probably looks like it, but I’m not just using you for coffee.”

Harley smiles, squeezing Peter’s hand. “And I promise I’m not using you for answers to future tests. You may be a genius, but I’m not a cheater.”

“Good because I have a proposition. I only leave on Saturday, and I need an extra set of hands to pack up my dorm room? My roommates already gone, so it’ll just be us and we could watch some movies afterwards? If not, don’t worry about it-”

Harley grins, finishing off his coffee. “I’d love to. Tomorrow afternoon? I have the day off work, but I’ve got a class until two, so I’ll come over after that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

* “I’m going to miss you,” Harley says, watching Peter make a little pile of the bags they’d packed the night before from his bed. Peter’s got a mid-afternoon flight, so he needs to be out by noon. “That’s three Thursday nights without you at the café.”

Peter smiles softly, turning from where he’d set down his backpack at the door. “I’m going to miss you too. Three weeks and I’ll be back to bothering you all the time.”

Despite knowing it’s a joke, Harley rolls his eyes. “You’re never a bother.”

“I’ll call you? I live out in California, so I’ll try to remember the time zone differences, but don’t hate me if I accidentally call you in the middle of the night.”

Harley turns his head into the pillow, smiling dopily at Peter. “I told you, call me whenever. I want to hear all the gossip about your stupid parents.”

“Well there will be plenty of gossip, so be careful what you wish for.”

There’s a pause as the reality of everything sets in. Three weeks without each other after only two months together seems unfair. Harley’s going to miss Peter a lot. He’s been ignoring the crush that’s been festering over the past couple weeks especially. He doesn’t want to hurt their very new, budding friendship, especially not when Peter’s under so much stress as is, but last night, watching movies on Peter’s bed together on his laptop, it really solidified the crush.

“I should get going,” Peter says miserably. He slings his backpack over his shoulder again, glasses askew on his nose, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, hands shaking.

“You want me to drop you off instead of taking a cab? I wouldn’t mind driving. We probably even have time to stop for a quick coffee.”

Peter smiles brightly, big enough to show off his dimples and light up his eyes. Harley gets off the bed, taking off his red MIT sweater, leaving him in an old t-shirt from the diner his mom works at, and hands the sweater over to Peter.

He wants to say so you’ll remember me or a reminder you’re not alone but he can’t say it. Instead he says, “You look a bit cold.”

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs, flushing softly. Harley reaches out and straightens his glasses before slinging the duffel bag on the floor over his shoulder.

“Let’s get going then.”

Peter picks the music, old Disney movie soundtracks, and Harley drives, paying for coffees on the way to the Boston airport. They don’t say much, humming along to the music to keep from saying too much, but linking their hands together which says just as much.

When they get to the airport, Peter insists on Harley staying in the car.

“Three weeks,” Peter promises, blinking back tears.

Harley offers a smile, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Call me, it’ll feel like no time at all.”

The younger boy opens his car door and looks like he’s about to slip out of the car, but he turns back to Harley, eyes wide and glassy. He leans across the center of the car and kisses Harley hard.

“I’m sorry-”

Harley reaches over, cups Peter’s face and pulls him back in to kiss him again. “I really like you, like a crazy amount, I didn’t want to say anything because I love having you as a friend, but I do really like you.”

“I really like you too. I didn’t tell you but before you talked to me that one day, I was always going into your café just to see you but I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“You’re going to miss your flight,” Harley says, brushing his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone and frowning disappointedly.

Peter huffs out a breath, pushing open his door. “I’ll call you? We’ll talk about this?”

“Of course. Call me whenever,” Harley says, stealing one last kiss. “Go before you miss your flight.”

The younger boy grins so bright, finally slipping out of the car, backpack over one shoulder, leans back to blow a kiss, and then he’s gone.

Harley has to pause for a second, smiling up at the ceiling of his car, before he feels ready to leave the airport, and Peter, behind.

Three weeks.

* It takes a week and a half for Peter to call, and when he does, he’s crying.

“This sucks,” Peter starts, voice trembling and thick with emotion. “Being home sucks and missing you sucks and everything sucks.”

“Hi to you too, and merry belated Christmas.”

“Sorry, yeah, merry Christmas, happy holidays, hi, how are you, and all that. I wish I were in Boston so much.”

Harley lets out a short laugh, sprawling out on his bed, phone pressed against his ear. “I wish you were here too, if that helps. What happened?”

“My parents were totally pissed about my B like I knew they’d be. And when I tried to tell them about you because I was excited, they told me I’d find a nice girl to settle down with soon enough.” Peter chokes out a sob, voice tipping towards angry. “I know I’m bi, so maybe, but it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair. Some people are like that. I remember coming out as gay in a small town in Tennessee, it wasn’t received very well.”

Peter sighs sympathetically. “I just- I don’t even want their company, you know? I want to work at Stark Industries like how I’d been interning, but I don’t have a choice. I’m the heir, the papers were signed, it’s mine as soon as I graduate so they can retire.”

“You’re a genius, and legally an adult, find a way to un-sign them. Or when you get jurisdiction, terminate the company. There’s still options, there’s still ways you can get where you want to be.”

“I know, I just- I don’t know. I wanna go home. I want to see you.”

Harley smiles softly to himself, shaking his head. “I know, I miss you too. But you’re halfway done, you can do it, and I’ll be there at the airport for you when you get back.”

“I know we said we’d talk about it but I really don’t think I can handle-”

“No, no, of course.” Harley doesn’t mind. He’s kind of liking this in-between stage they’re living in. Not dating, no labels, but definitely something more than friends. “In case you needed a confidence boost, you’re a genius. You’re the smartest person I know and I know a lot of people. According to Gwen, you’re the nicest person too, and I agree. You’re very sweet and kind. Plus, have you seen yourself? You’ve got a lot going for you.”

Peter laughs quietly, tears finally fading. “You’re too nice to me. Maybe being around you is going to make my ego too big.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Harley says, lightening up. “You’re too humble for that. Oh, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but apparently, Gwen did notice you first, and she purposefully sent me over to your table that first day.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She thought I was getting too lonely, after spending over a year in Boston and only making two friends, and not seeing anybody, so she was hoping something would happen between us, which I guess it did, so I owe her one.”

Peter laughs again, then goes quiet for a moment. “I need to get going soon. Dad’s taking me to meetings all afternoon. I hate going, people only see me as a stupid kid or as competition.”

“Prove them wrong, stand up for yourself, or at least get me on the phone so I can stand up for you.”

Far away from the door there’s a shouted, “Get your ass out of bed! We leave in thirty and if you’re tie’s on wrong and I have to reteach you, I swear to god, it’ll be the last thing you do!”

“Was that your dad? Threatening you?” There’s already a protective edge to his voice like Harley will fly all the way to California just to stand between Peter and his dad.

“They’re normally empty threats,” Peter offers like it’s no big deal. “He prefers yelling more than anything. Mom says he’d probably do worse if it weren’t for the cameras on us all the time.”

Harley’s mouth falls open, anger flooding through his chest like a wildfire. “You should stay with me this Spring Break and Summer. There’s plenty of extra space in Gwen’s apartment and in my childhood home. I don’t want you back there.”

“You’d want me around for that long?”

He nearly chokes in surprise. “Of course I would. I want you always, whenever. I don’t want you home again if I can help it. It’s obvious it’s not good for you.”

Harley doesn’t know how their relationship will fare, how they’ll be in two months, in six, he doesn’t know if he could convince Peter to stay away knowing the anger it would cause, he doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to keep Peter safe. But he knows he’d do anything to try.

“I’ve gotta go before my dad’s head explodes. I’ll call you as soon as I can and we’ll talk more about these plans, ‘kay? I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Only another week and a half left.”

* Harley has to wait at the airport for three hours because of a flight delay and the longer he waits, the more he itches to see Peter. They still haven’t talked, so Harley isn’t even sure if greeting him with a kiss is allowed, but he doesn’t know how much he cares. He’s been thinking about it for three weeks, lord knows Gwen’s losing her mind with his constant rambles about Peter, and he’s pretty positive Peter will be just as desperate.

He sends another text to Peter, letting him know the area he’s waiting in, and waiting to see if it switches to delivered which would mean he’s landed. It does and Harley can barely contain an excited squeal.

If I run, I can be there in 3

Harley sends back a quick, please, which goes unanswered.

He keeps half his attention on his watch, slowly ticking down, and half on the people walking around him, waiting for the mop of brown curls to make their appearance.

At two minutes, thirty seconds, he sees Peter.

“Peter!” he calls out, ignoring some of the dirty looks people shoot him, and lifting a hand into the air.

Almost immediately, the boy starts running faster down the last stretch of hallway, dropping his duffel a few feet away, before launching into Harley’s awaiting arms.

Harley has to take a few steps to rebalance them, arms winding around Peter’s waist and kissing him hard. Peter’s legs are around his waist, hanging onto him like a lifeline, hands in his hair. Eventually, Peter’s smiling too wide to continue kissing, pulling back to let out a giddy laugh.

“I missed you so bad. I know it was only three weeks and I know we’ve only known each other for a few months, but I really like you, and I didn’t think I would miss you as much as I did, but every day without you felt like a marathon. I don’t want to skip the conversation, but I just want to know that this is real,” Peter rambles.

Stealing another kiss, Harley tightens his grip on the younger boy. “Yes, god yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day for the past three months, and I want this to be real too. I want to be your boyfriend, I don’t care how soon or crazy it is.”

“My boyfriend,” Peter echoes, lighting up in a smile. He kisses Harley again and then hides his face in the crook of Harley’s shoulder, nodding. “Yes please. I would love that.”

They hold each other for a while longer. Long enough for the majority of the baggage pick-up to clear out, long enough for Harley’s knees to start cramping and his cheeks to hurt with how wide he’s smiling.

“I’m not letting you go back there,” Harley says because it feels necessary. “I’ll find a way for you to stay until you graduate.”

Peter smiles pulling back enough to kiss his forehead. “Good, thank you, I didn’t want to go back.”

“Time to go home, boyfriend?” Saying it makes Harley giddy with pure joy.

His mama’s going to freak when she hears about Peter, she’s only ever wanted what’s best for Harley, and Peter’s that. He’s the best for Harley. It doesn’t get better than him. And he’s going to do everything in his power to be the best for Peter too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Dating Beverly Marsh Would Include...

Requested: [I'm sorry I can't remember who requested this or if this was an anon, I'm sorry!] Hey, could I request some headcanons about dating Beverly? (Also if you could add in the reader having homophobic parents 💕)

Warnings: obviously there will be homophobia, [at the end so people can skip if they need to read safely 😊] specifically from the readers parents so please feel free to skip if need be. And remember my blog is a safe space 💕 oh yeah theres also plenty of grammar/spelling errors i'm sure

A//n: This was WAY longer than I anticipated. I just kept coming up with more stuff and holy crap I love writing Bev x readers???? Please request more Bev Edit: this was in my drafts forever and again as much as i have been trying to get requests out in order, it's been pretty tough but at least this way stuff gets out sooner so here ya go.

Okay

First of all..

Y'all make the CUTEST COUPLE, OKAY?!

Like no joke

You know that cliche about girls stealing their boyfriends hoodies/clothes??

Well that goes for both of you and you both are always swapping clothes cause you both love each other's sense of style

Plus, ya know, it's got that great boyfriend girlfriend smell

It's cheesy and played out, but it's honestly so wholesome, and again, you guys each have an interest in each others senses of styles

If you're bigger than her, and her clothes don't necessarily fit you, pfffttt no big deal, she had a million blankets that smelled like her and then you two got together and now she can only find like,, two. But that doesn't mean she doesn't love stealing your clothes!! They're baggier on her but oH MY GOODNESS DOES SHE LOVE THAT. She just loves being able to completely immerse herself in your stuff. Especially when she isn't feeling safe in her own home and you aren't around, the best thing for her is to wrap herself in her your stuff and be comforted by you. Uggh, its hella sweet

But let's start from the beginning...

Both of you knew about each other from school

You definitely heard the many rumors about "Beaver-ly Marsh"

Not that you participated, but you were always overhearing rumors from gossiping girls and bragging boys in your class

Your school wasn't huge but it wasn't small either

But it was kill or be be killed, and rumors spread like the damn plague

It was inevitable

And it was just a matter of time before you overheard the several rumors of the "slut" who did it with every guy in school.

You'd roll you're eyes at the word and the ridiculous insinuations, knowing the massively overplayed game of telephone that ruled your school was not necessary the most credible source of information

And you were positive there were rumors about you, I mean, it really wasn't possible to go to that school without a rumor going around

Everyone had one

Anyways, you never paid much attention to them, but then you met her...

And oh no.

Immediately, it was:

You already never paid much mind to the rumors, but when you got to know each other??

Nuh uh.

No way

Not Beverly

No no no no, no

She was way too sweet, and shy, and beautiful, and awesome, and funny, annnd oh no the damn butterflies were back and shit she made you feel things

And you??

Bevery had no clue she was into girls until you came along...

You were her gay awakening and her being so used to all those nasty things people said about her and all those boys??

Even though it wasn't true, any of it, she still always expected that eventually one day she'd get her first boyfriend, to love and cuddle with and everything normal

Again, then you came along and her heart was all like

BOOM BOOM BEECH

You both danced around each other a lot. Seeing as you were two precious little gay beans that lived in a conservative town in the 80s, it wasn't exactly the most accepting environment and you guys didn't know if the other was into girls at all

On both sides it was "does she like me or is she just really laid back and friendly???"

It took way too long to figure out you were both into each other

If I'm being completely honest here, y'all were like the female reddie

Two girls who became best friends and always bickered like crazy to hide your feelings

The way you two found out you had feelings for one another was bumpy and awkward but silly and cute nonetheless

It came off in a passing comment that just slipped out

The two of you were having a sleepover like you did every Friday night you were available

and you two were laying on her bedroom floor talking about anything and everything staring at the ceiling

Her radio was playing in the background and the two of you were surrounded by various snacks you had been munching on all throughout the night and the conversation drifted to gossip about your peers at school

It went a little something like this:

Y: "Did you see so and so today??"

B: "Yes!!"

Y: *laughing* "Yeah, what the hell was that?"

B: I have no idea what goes on in her head...

B: but I guess I gotta give her some credit, she's always super confident and I'm like, 90% sure that's what makes her the most desirable girl in the 8th grade"

Y: "I guess that makes sense"

B: "I do wish I had her confidence. Maybe I'd have better luck romantically"

Y: "Oh please, like you need that. You're infinitely more attractive than her"

B: "What?"

Y: *panicked* "What?"

B: *slowly sits up with smug ass smirk on her lips* are you saying you find me... attractive?"

Y: ..."what?" *sweating*

B: *still smirking* "Wait,"

Y: "WhAT?"

B: *stILL smirking* "do you-?"

Y: *full on gay panic* "No!"

B: *smirking and blushing*

B: *lays back down* "well, I think you're pretty attractive yourself, if it's any consolation"

She's still so nervous though so it comes out in a whisper

She's 99 percent certain you just accidentally revealed your crush to her but her heart was p o u n d i n g anyway

What if it just came out wrong and that's why you panicked???

Had she just revealed her crush to you by mistake???

But no

You both were a blushing mess and it did not go unnoticed by either one of you

You're hands kinda accidently brushed and you both just had a heart attack on the spot

But the connection you two had that night

You both just... knew

You guys kinda just... happened

After that you both were aware you liked each other

But it was kind of unspoken

At first

It's not like you guys never talked about it, but you two definitely became more touchy and flirty

Holding hands when no one was looking

Shortly before you guys happened and before that night, she had introduced you to losers and they just totally accepted you as one of their own

You got along especially well with Richie (wonder why)

But Bev wasn't too happy about this particular fact...

Especially after you two got together

She wasn't necessarily jealous, especially cause she already had a sneaking suspicion about his feelings for another loser, but because he took up a lot of her time with you

But then, to her chagrin, Richie found out about you two

the eight of you were hanging out in the clubhouse, and Ben had to make some adjustments so him and the others left momentarily to help him get the resources

Except you, and Bev

You two volunteered to hold down the fort [literally]

aaaaaaand you two wanted to have a few minutes alone together too,

Nothing scandalous or anything like that, but you two didn't get be close around the losers

Then Richie returned way earlier than expected [turns out he was doing more harm than good and they sent him back]

He was just outside the entrance and he overheard you two

"I wish we could tell them,"

"I know. And it's not that I don't think they'll accept us, it's-" *sigh* "I'm just not ready... I'm sorry"

"Don't be. It's okay, we can tell them when we're both good and ready."

"Thank you, Y/n."

Richie just kinda stood there thinking about what he just heard

I mean, it made sense, you guys were really close, but then again, that's just how he thought all girls were

But everything else kinda made more sense the more he thought about it

And, it honestly reminded him of him and Eddie

More specifically, how he felt about his best friend

Now naturally this was a very emotional moment, but Richie Tozier being Richie Tozier wasn't about to waltz in there and give some sappy speech about he accepts you guys and he's here for you no matter what

No, no, no

He laid down on the forest floor, sticking his head in the clubhouse scaring the shit out of you two and said

"You guys should really be more quiet, Ben may be a suspiciously good overnight kid architect sensation but he has yet to soundproof this baby"

He then stuck his arm inside the clubhouse, patting the ceiling, shaking a couple spiders loose from his his hand in disgust

"Richie...!"

You two jumped apart and you about nearly shit your pants

"Relax, I'm not gonna tell anyone,"

You both were startled as hell and absolutely disgruntled but the two of you looked at each other, simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief

He got up and joined you two in the clubhouse, and began lounging in his usual spot in the hammock, arms behind his head

"So, this means you two are both into girls, huh?"

Once again, you looked at one another and back at him, nodding shyly

He plastered on the most mischievous smirk you had ever seen and nodded his head, his huge eyes squinting slightly from behind his glasses

"niceee"

This of course was followed by simultaneous eye rolls, Bev even threw her gum wrapper at him but you laughed

It was a relieved laugh

Here you were, exposed and unintentionally outed to Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier and sure enough his reaction was "nICE"

It was honestly a relief and kinda hilarious

You guys just kinda broke out into laughter

It was nice moment

***TRIGGER WARNING FOR [PARENTAL] HOMOPHOBIA BELOW***

And for a while, everything was great. That was, until your parents began to take note just how much time you were spending with Bev

They kept an eye on it at first

Then they started asking questions

You knew this day would come one way or another

Hell, you grew up with them after all, you knew what they thought about people like you and it broke your heart

It terrified you

And it's exactly what you heard every night when you tried to fall asleep, their voices speaking to you clear as day; how disgusted they were. They weren't really there of course and it wasn't until you became a loser that you found out what that voice was...

The point is, your deepest fear was being realized so you did what you could do

Lie

And it seemed to work. Briefly

Your mother had come in to check on you two for the fifth time - usually she checked on you two four times since their suspicions - and found you two snuggled up on top of your sleeping bags

Your mother screamed, scaring the crap out of you guys and you jumped apart

Your mother was thrown into hysterics and went to fetch your father, wailing like a damn baby

Needless to say that night was a long one for everyone

And as if things couldn't get any worse, just days later you found out that Beverly had been taken by It

Immediately, every doubt, every fear, every inkling of shame your parents and your community had drilled into you was forgotten and all that mattered was getting her back

You and your friends literally went through hell to get her back

Needless to say it was a terrifying ordeal but you all had each other's backs and everyone came out okay

When you left Neibolt, you and Beverly were hand in hand

You couldn't give a flying fck about it, you just fought a shape-shifting demon clown you could face your small minded parents

And more importantly you knew even if your parents didn't support you, you had other people who did that and that was enough

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Hope you enjoyed, sorry it's so long and again this is out of order of who requested it so I'm sorry to those of you who had stuff in before this, but I've just been stuck for too long and I needed to get things moving again. Anyways, I hoped you guys like this and again, omg I love writing Beverly!!! I would not be offended if you guys asked for more Bev fics/hc when I open up requests again

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recap: “As Above, So Below”

Welcome back, everyone. So. Last Saturday I was actually feeling pretty good about RWBY. Not as a whole, but for that particular episode because, as I explained to a lovely anon, not much happened. Sure, there were some semi-important bits in the form of meeting Willow and Weiss discovering the recording, but compared to everything else we’ve gotten this volume it was all around a tame fifteen minutes. Which meant there wasn’t much space for RWBY to mess things up. There simply weren’t any stakes last episode. You don’t like how the group gets past Whitley or the exact words Ironwood says to Jacques? It’s ultimately whatever in the grand scheme of things. Last episode was mostly details.

“As Above, So Below” is not that kind of episode. So much happens and I’m once again left metaphorically banging my head against the wall, not regarding the writing choices themselves per se, but rather at how they’re used and portrayed. There is so much that I want to enjoy about this episode but Rooster Teeth continually ignores aspects of a situation in order to highlight one very narrow, very biased viewpoint. The scenes throughout demand that we conveniently forget or outright ignore certain things in order to immerse ourselves in whatever emotion the writing has decided we should be feeling right now ... and I simply can’t do that. RWBY is a show based on the claim that it’s a bright sunny day, so pay no mind to the rain clouds hovering above your head. It’s the animated equivalent of a Jedi mind trick. These are not the interpretations you’re looking for.

Secrets are finally revealed, folks, and oh boy. It’s a hot mess.

But let’s start at the beginning.

Undermining my assumption last recap that Watts had dismantled something that was regulating just a portion of Mantle’s temperature---something specific to maintaining rain over snow---we learn that all heating has been lost across the city. Which, if you know anything about temperature and the fragile human body, is really fucking bad. Here RWBY actually did a good job of introducing Weiss’ comment early in the volume about how people can freeze to death within an hour or so. We were still left with a few detail-oriented questions like how useful aura is in combating that, why Ruby was still so cold with her, why no one was showing symptoms back during the walk to the farm... but at least the setup is clear here. Civilians don’t have aura so that’s that. They’re dead if they don’t find some way to keep warm (riot fires help...) or aren’t evacuated somewhere else. It’s a big deal, though how exactly this fits into the rest of Watts’ plan and the other bits of chaos he’s accomplished is still unclear. More on that in a bit.

We see Pietro and Maria, but they don’t actually do anything this episode. They just stand around looking scared as people get violent and the city is covered in ominous red lights. At least the show remembers that they exist, but we don’t get to see the brilliant scientist specializing in creating weaponry and the former Grimm Reaper doing something to help. So... B grade on that one?

There’s no time skip this episode so with Mantle unraveling we segue right back to the dinner at the Schnee’s. Ironwood is still getting called out for having too much power. He pushes back that there are checks and balances in place to keep everyone, including him, from abusing that power. This is countered with a broad and not very persuasive claim that they simply haven’t worked. Ironwood comes back with a line about intentions and the nameless (?) council guy goes, “What people intend and what people do are not always the same thing!” Well no shit. If that were the case everyone’s lives would be staggeringly easier. You intend to find the madman who dismantled your army at Beacon? Boom, done. Intend to find the murderer responsible for attacking Robyn’s supporters? Congratulations, you did it. RWBY now has a habit of throwing out lines to remind us that the evil men in power---notably Ozpin and Ironwood---might intend to do good, but look! They haven’t managed it! Which... yes? Sometimes intentions fail, but that leaves the unanswered question of what these characters (and the writing) want them to do instead. No one has the luxury of changing their situation and everyone continues to ignore the fact that there are only bad options all around. I’d rather have someone with good intentions at the helm than, you know, Jacques. It also speaks volumes that as much as the council and RWBYJNR has been criticizing Ironwood lately, everyone still expects him to make the hard call himself. They don’t want that responsibility; they want a scapegoat if and when things go wrong. Just like the group was happy to scream at Ozpin and then get pissed that he left, leaving them to make the hard decisions themselves for once, everyone is screaming at Ironwood and then two minutes later turn about with, “So what should we do, General? What’s your plan? How are you going to fix this?” Though I don’t think any of it is intentional, RWBY has a lot to say about how only good and lucky leaders get to come out of their role unscathed. No matter what you do someone hates you for it and even choosing to abstain isn’t an option, as we saw clearly with Ozpin.

At this point the meeting is briefly interrupted by a waiter who tells Jacques about the heating issue. He responds with a, “My authorization?” before trying to cover things up, awkwardly agreeing with the conversation he just missed. Robyn announces that she’s not done with Ironwood yet though and accuses him of more failures, ending with, “yet you won’t let your own council help you?” which... honestly? Just hammers home how not useful this “Ironwood should trust everyone!” mindset is. Because is Robyn really that dense? The council is Jacques and two of his lackeys. You know, the guy who is about to be arrested for treason and as an accomplice to murder. Even though that hasn’t been revealed yet, Robyn is very well aware of what a corrupt, dangerous individual he is. Remember that she herself is not the council. She was given a “seat at the table” because Jacques wanted to use her against Ironwood. Robyn is sitting here symbolically pointing to Jacques and the two members he has wrapped around his finger going, “Why aren’t you trusting them?” like that’s in any way a sound suggestion. Sometimes the answer to, “Why are you doing Bad Things like keeping secrets?” is “Because people can be unimaginably stupid.” This is an example of that. Robyn wants to know everything and right now she’s willing to risk that information falling into an enemy’s hands to get it.

(Also, that picture in the background? Says a lot that Jacques has a picture of him, his obedient son, and his terrified wife in the room where he conducts business. No Weiss or Winter in sight.) 

Ironwood, of course, tells a straight out lie with an excellent poker face. “I’m not hiding anything.” Which inspires Robyn to use her semblance. Oh no! An insanely convenient ability that would undo every conflict we’ve set up for this season! However will we avoid this? Timing, obviously. Weiss, also conveniently, barges in right when Robyn has put Ironwood on the spot. I said it as soon as Robyn’s semblance was introduced: if you give someone that level of power---something that can too easily solve all the problems you’ve set up---then you have to keep coming up with semi-contrived ways of keeping them from using it.

Also, does she need skin-on-skin contact for her semblance to work? I wonder if that’s why she’s got that one random finger missing on her glove.

Wiess plays the recording of Watts and Jacques, giving us the rest of their conversation. We don’t learn anything new. Watts promised Jacques a seat on the council and he in turn (supposedly) would get the satisfaction of ruining Ironwood’s life. Jacques handed over his login information, including what he gained post-election, and now Watts has access to everything he built and then some. To say that’s bad is an understatement. You might be distracted from your worry though by hearing that cake line again as well as the men’s villainous laughs. RWBY really went full cartoon for that conversation.

A detail I really love though? Ironwood’s rhythmic footsteps as he walks around the table. Super ominous and intimidating. Meanwhile, a hilarious detail is how awkward Jacques gets when he’s finally lost that precious control. This isn’t a confident man capable of denying the accusations against him in anything like a persuasive manner. He doesn’t have Ironwood’s poker face. Jacques is a coward who looks like a schoolboy seated in the principal’s office once caught.

He attempts to escape only to find Weiss’ knight blocking the exit, the one we now know was the possessed armor that belonged to her grandfather. In a thoroughly satisfying moment she declares that Jacques is under arrest... and then turns around to ask Ironwood if she can actually do that. I’m on the fence about this. Normally I don’t mind a bit of humor lightening the mood, but in this case we have three things that I don’t think are improving the situation. The first is the sheer emotional impact that should be accompanying this arrest. This is Weiss’ abuser. The man we’ve known about (incidentally anyway) since Volume 1 and who has driven nearly the entirety of her character development from working to escape him pre-RWBY to coming back as a huntress. Provided that Jacques doesn’t pull a Torchwick and escape himself somehow, this is the culmination of nearly seven volumes worth of heartbreaking struggle. There are some things that I think should be allowed to shoulder their weight without undercutting it with a joke and this is 100% one of them. Just like finding out that a friend you thought had been permanently torn to pieces in front of you should generate heartfelt shock and joy, reaching the moment where you finally arrest one of the show’s biggest personal villains should be treated seriously. Let Weiss have this and put the joke later if you still want it. Weiss could be staring hollow-eyed at her father being put in handcuffs and Ruby could try to cheer her up. “So...” she says. “Can we arrest people?” Weiss blinks, coming out of her stupor, and gives a tentative smile. “Don’t know, actually. But it’s working in this case.” There. Serious moment leading to a bit of comedy-bonding. Humor is a wonderful tool, but it also lessens the other emotions of a scene if not used properly.

Potential issues #2 and #3 are smaller. On a personal note, hearing Weiss’ question simply reminded me, again, that RWBY has failed to establish hard rules for its world, including what a huntsmen’s job entails. A few weeks ago fans were arguing over whether Blake and Yang should feel anything in regards to killing Adam because, according to some, it’s already a part of a huntsmen’s responsibilities to arrest and if necessary kill people. Why would they flinch at something they knew they were signing up for? Others (myself included) pointed out that although we see the students sparing with one another at school, no one says anything about them taking out human and faunus criminals. RWBYJNR’s adventures---from Ruby stopping the robbery in her trailer to tracking down the White Fang---are presented as outliers. This is not the sort of stuff huntsmen are meant to get up to. They fight grimm first and foremost. Everything else is a case-by-case surprise. Note, for example, that Ironwood expects his army to keep the peace and presumably the police when things aren’t quite so dangerous. He’s not sending huntsmen out to track down everyday criminals because that’s not their job. Killing grimm is. Weiss’ comment reinforces that. Can I arrest someone? Is that within my power as a huntress? And Ironwood... doesn’t answer. Because it’s meant to be a joke, not a legitimate bit of world building.

And then the third... is just how Rooster Teeth is using humor throughout the entirety of this episode. AKA not well, which makes me less inclined to give this particular moment the benefit of the doubt. We’ll get to that in just a second though. For now I’ve written way to much on a two second scene.

While Jacques’ plans unravel the rioting in Mantle is getting worse and worse. “Atlas killed the heat on purpose! They’ll do anything to control us!” which is very much a conclusion born of panic. It feels like every other episode Mantle is on the verge of collapse and, by extension, all of these moments feel anti-climactic. We’ve watched Mantle rioting over the embargo, and then Penny, and then the election, and now the heat... none of it feels like it has weight anymore. Rioting is just the way we’re ending most episodes now. It also (again) raises that question of what exactly Watts is trying to accomplish, and not in a “Still to be revealed!” kind of way. We do still have an element of that, but at this point there’s also just a, “Literally what was the point?” aspect too. Why is Mantle rioting most episodes? Shouldn’t that be something to build to? More importantly---as I’ve said before---WHY did they frame Penny? We see in the next scene that Jacques’ guilt likewise reveals Penny’s innocence... even though everyone important knew that two seconds after she was accused. There were no consequences attached to blaming her and, as just established, we clearly didn’t need the loss of a city defender to bring that city to the brink. Mantle has been going over the edge for a variety of reasons and the people were at that point before the group even arrived. When Penny was first framed that seemed like a brilliant setup. Now we see definitively that it led nowhere. Why did Watts bother and why did the writers? It’s another case of RWBY chucking in things they think are “cool” without bothering to follow up on them.

So yeah. The Penny situation is done. We didn’t even get any development out of her from it. That really is disappointing.

With everything Jacques did on the table the situation looks bleaker by the minute. What can Watts do with this control?  “With enough time… whatever he wants.” The group finds out that the first thing he did with this power is shut off the heat and Weiss has the most dramatic reaction, which makes sense given that she’s the one who best understands the risks here. And then... then.

Oh dear god.

Ironwood realizes that Watts may eventually have access to the Amity info, if he stumbles across it or actively goes looking for things to uncover. This revelation on its own is good. That’s something Ironwood needs to try and prevent, so it would have been an excellent moment of storytelling to show us Ironwood’s moment of revelation, perhaps with a bit of dramatic music to hammer things home. Except that instead of keeping this issue between the people who know about it---Ironwood and Ruby could have exchanged knowing glances like Blake and Yang did when they first started keeping their secrets---Rooster Teeth has Ironwood talk about loud to himself about the major secret he’s keeping. He literally calls it a secret! “No. The secret is safe for now. But if he learns about Amity…” Hello?? I understand that this episode is all about things coming to light, but that moment was an absolute insult to Ironwood’s character. We just saw this man claim with a perfectly straight face that he had nothing to hide. Five minutes later he’s apparently lost so much intelligence he stands in front of four people he’s keeping secrets from, including Jacques Schnee, and starts soliloquizing about said secrets. That is the most stupid and contrived way to get caught in a lie. Oh no! I totally forgot a bunch of people were standing beside me! Now everyone has heard that I’m keeping a secret since I felt the need to state that out loud...

And in case anyone thought this is a case where I’m reading too much into things, Robyn literally laughs and goes, “Yep! Still here, everyone!” Reminding them that someone who is not supposed to know about this stuff is standing... right there... listening in... The writing draws attention to it. 

This trumps all other former stupidity. Like the group loudly announcing their attempts to avoid getting arrested in the city covered with surveillance. This is so stupid I want to turn it into a meme. Cleanse this scene somehow.

Anyway. More rioting. More anger. Shock, surprise, that draws a ton of grimm. Take note of the fact that Ironwood’s army is almost useless against this barrage. The missiles from the airships don’t seem to take the horde out. Nor do the guns. Two other soldiers are forced to cower when some pterodactyl-type grimm flies overhead. 

I say this not to bash the army itself (they’re doing their best while up against horrible odds), but rather to re-emphasize how not good telling the whole world about Salem is. Everyone seems to forget that, first and foremost, this is the concern that Ozpin dealt with. Even if he was 100% wrong on every other count---no one would lose hope, no one would ever betray him---it is impossible to hear about Salem and not experience negative emotions and those negative emotions draw grimm that kill everyone. Ironwood’s primary justification was that he’ll use his army to protect the people when that happens and (ignoring that his army can’t possibly be everywhere at once) we see here that it’s all but useless. His soldiers may have been able to handle the grunt grimm seen at the breach and the Battle of Beacon, but they’re  helpless in the face of anything stronger, the exact sort of stuff that world-wide panic over an immortal woman would draw. Clover makes it clear when he arrives that only huntsmen stand a real chance and huntsmen are few and far between nowadays. They lost an entire school. Lionheart made sure nearly all the huntsmen in Mistral were killed. They’ve reached a point where teens are given licenses at least two years early, without full training, because they need the help that badly. Ironwood cannot protect the people if their fear grows stronger. That’s not his fault, but it also means he can’t afford to deliberately stoke that fear. Telling the world about Salem, whether she’s immortal or not, is a 100% death wish for lots and lots and lots of people.

That’s why I can’t get behind an idealistic view of, “But they deserve to know.” Maybe they do, but if given the choice I’d rather keep people in the dark and let them live their lives than tell them for the sake of the moral high-ground and risk the very likely possibility that they’ll die a horrible, bloody death. 

Then, finally... we come back to the group’s secrets.

As established, Robyn is calling Ironwood out on his own secret keeping because he just admitted aloud to having a secret. 100% dodged her suspicion  by Weiss’ timely arrival and Jacques getting outed as a traitor, then went ahead and shot himself in the foot. Sorry. I just really can’t stress that enough. Anyway, she’s homing in like a bloodhound, backing him into another corner, and this is the animation they decide to give us.

This is why I haven’t liked the group since mid-Volume 5. Because they’ve become reckless, hypocritical, often incredibly cruel people. Animation is a drawing. Someone had to decide and design this moment. Nothing is left to chance. So Rooster Teeth made a conscious decision to have Ruby almost-smiling in this moment. Looking pleased and happy at the very least. She’s still keeping her own secrets and is taking pleasure in the fact that Ironwood’s are coming to light. This is the exactly the same behavior we saw with Ozpin and (to a lesser extent) Cordovin. The satisfaction this group derives from either seeing or handing out what they perceive as another’s just desserts while they themselves are committing the same or worse sins. Ruby should not look happy here in the same way that she should not have pushed for Ironwood to sacrifice Mantle in the name of finishing a doomed project. And as we’ll see in a moment, she shouldn’t be giggling with Oscar over the shared damage they’ve caused.

At this point everyone is ganging up on Ironwood. Yes, including Oscar. As a preface to all this, I love my farm boy. Just not how Rooster Teeth has been writing my farm boy. Because this is what I meant at the very start of this recap. Oscar and Ruby’s speeches here are only inspiring if you choose to ignore the fact that, in this moment, they’re still keeping their own secrets. I honestly thought Oscar was going to come clean when he approached Ironwood leaning against the wall. Instead he offers his advice which is, straight up, to just stop keeping secrets. Says the kid who is still keeping secrets. Oscar even goes so far as to say that “You already knew that wasn’t the right course” which is the biggest load of BS I’ve heard on this show so far. No! No one agreed that was the wrong path. You all explicitly decided that keeping secrets was the right thing to do. They’re telling him he was wrong to choose the thing they benefited from and continue to use to their advantage in this scene.“Tell the truth,” Oscar insists, still not telling the truth. “You’re not alone,” Ruby adds when she hasn’t trusted Ironwood once this season. This moment is manipulation because Oscar and Ruby both are trying to convince Ironwood to do something using false personas. Ironwood believes that he should listen to them precisely because he thinks they’ve achieved the very thing they’re demanding of him: sharing all their secrets. He thinks they’re models to look up to. When in fact Ironwood is the only one who has ever managed this demand by sharing his plan with them, completely of his own volition. 

The fact that they decide to tell him a few minutes later doesn’t matter. They already got what they wanted and the damage is done. I mean that literally. By manipulating Ironwood into spilling the beans, they’ve created a situation where Ironwood revealed the Salem secret to the council and Robyn but not her immortality. Ironwood himself only learns of that afterward, back in the dining room, and you can see the utter devastation on his face.

Is it still a good idea to tell two highly suspect council members and a woman who has been his semi-enemy about Salem given that she can’t be killed? Who knows. We don’t get to tackle that question because Ironwood wasn’t given a choice. It’s too late. He was pressured and manipulated into a making a huge decision without all the necessary information (which, for the record, is still not the same thing as the group deciding to help people and do the job they signed up for without knowing about Salem). Even if nothing horrible results from these three people now knowing about Salem, Oscar and Ruby have created more problems. We hear the council woman ask fearfully whether Ironwood can defeat Salem. The only thing holding them together is the hope that they can still win with their army... but they can’t. What’s Ironwood going to do with that expectation now? Will he tell them about her immortality too? Risk what they might do in response? Don’t you think this is something he should have known about weeks ago, Ruby? “You should know before you make any… sacrifices” Oscar tells Ironwood, completely ignoring the fact that he already made sacrifices. Mantle was a sacrifice. Those resources were a sacrifice. Telling the council was a sacrifice. Ironwood’s ongoing hope that he could finally end this, stretched out far longer than it had to be, was a sacrifice.

What kills me is the casual nature of it all. There was no catalyst here. Nothing new happened to convince the group that they can suddenly trust Ironwood. If they’re willing to trust him now that means they trusted him before and just didn’t tell him because... they didn’t. The defense of “He’s unstable, who knows what he might do to them and Mantle once he finds out the truth!” was a smokescreen the whole time. Because nothing changed. Ironwood said and did nothing in the last fifteen minutes to suddenly cause the revelation of, “Oh my god. We can trust him. Now we finally know we’re safe to reveal this secret.” They could have done it on day two and avoided so much strife. Like, you know, the situation in Mantle that Nora felt the need to scream at Ironwood about. Maybe if you’d told him his plan was doomed he might not have taken so many resources from the people, given that he’d have known there was no longer a justification for that. You had the power to fix the problems you blamed him for from the get-go.

Combine this with Oscar and Ruby’s horrible conversation. Sure, the rosegarden shippers are thrilled, but beyond the fact that I’m personally not shipping Ruby with a boy housing her 1,000 year old headmaster, that (once again) was not the correct emotion to apply to this moment. They both come across as horrendously callous by laughing and giggling through the decision to finally tell Ironwood. It’s not like these secrets have driven this entire volume and are about to absolutely devastate him or anything. Why would you have a serious conversation about this? Why express even an ounce of sympathy and regret for what you’ve done? Nah, better to jump around and give each other thumbs up. Act so proud that you’ve randomly decided to come clean, like you deserve praise for this. Kids, am I right, Marrow?

Seriously. This is how these two treat the situation vs. what the situation actually is.

Which in a horrible way is fitting because there are zero consequences for all this. (Cue my shock...) Ironwood isn’t mad about any of this. He jokes with Oscar! “No more surprises, alright?” Given that RWBY releases weekly and thus there’s plenty of time between episodes, I feel like people forget the expectations they developed months back. The more optimistic side of the fandom (god bless you all, you’ve got more hope than me) keeps insisting that eventually the group’s new behavior will lead to repercussions, but time and time again Rooster Teeth tells us they won’t. Not for putting Argus in danger. Not for stealing an airship. Not for keeping the secrets Ozpin was crucified over a whole volume for. And that’s still going. Alongside Qrow’s talk with Ruby, Ironwood is given the space to blame Ozpin again---“Why? Why would Oz keep this from us?”---and has no desire to blame the group for doing the exact same thing. Oscar is allowed to go, “Sorry! We just didn’t trust you” but the same justification out of Ozpin’s mouth doesn’t fly, despite the fact that he had a hundred more reasons not to trust a bunch of teens. The level of hypocrisy in this episode is just staggering. We all watched Ruby tell Ozpin’s lies and went, “Oh yeah. This is going to come back to bite them” and it didn’t. 

There is nothing the group can do to get in trouble, or even a reprimand for. Anything and everything is twisted to praise them:

Destroyed precious military equipment (which this episode’s attack shows that the world desperately needs) and nearly get people killed by attacking an ally? You get a free ride to Atlas.

Broke Atlas’ laws by stealing their property and then avoiding the police? You get hugs from your sister and early huntsmen licenses.

You tell the exact same lies you demonized your headmaster for? You’re so much better than he is and I’m so proud of you.

Keep secrets from Ironwood, making a horrible situation even worse? Haha no more surprises in the future please!

And yes, this also includes: Going behind everyone’s back to spill information to Robyn? No one will even find out you did that. I’ve seen a post going around with people expressing how pleased they are that Robyn didn’t rat Blake and Yang out. That’s the level of bias the fandom and the writers are working under. The group gets away with everything because they’re the protagonists. Everyone adores them unconditionally. At this point I think they could join with Salem and people would insist that it’s the smartest and most badass move they could possibly make. Fans and the writing would praise them for that too. 

Ugh. Sorry for the level of salt in this recap. For the record I am glad that others are able to enjoy all of these moments. I just can’t. Oh boy I can’t. 

Alright. Close to wrapping up now. A series of smaller things: Oscar has another moment where he draws on Ozpin’s memories of Atlas being built. “You say that like you were there---” Ironwood says. We’ve spent a lot of time theorizing about the merge but in light of this episode... are we really expecting an explanation? RWBY hasn’t adequately explained dust vs. magic, or Qrow’s semblance, or why we should be rooting for heroes who do everything their perceived opponents do. Why would we expect them to explain something as complicated as this merge either? I think we should just expect a continually wishy-washy situation that changes based on the whims of the plot.

Ren and Nora have a moment on the airship that sparks another charged look between Blake and Yang. Are we ever going to tackle the huge concerns Ren had a few episodes back before they were silenced with a kiss? Does he or anyone else know that Oscar spilled the beans? For that matter, did Oscar admit that there’s still a question left in the relic? Does Ironwood actually want to lock it up now like they should have from the start? Did he explain precisely why Ozpin ran off? These answers remain lost to the void.

Jaune looks like he’s going to be sick after the airship is attacked. Nice throwback to episode one.

Whitley is devastated by his father’s arrest, truly alone now. He slinks off with Willow watching him go. Hopefully with Jacques out of the way she and Weiss (and possibly Winter) can start helping him. Show him how to connect with others in ways besides cruelty. 

The group then jumps out of the destroyed ship... but not before Elm and Harriet tease each other a bit. In a kind way. One might almost say... a friendly way...

Yeah these people aren’t friends. No way. What an absurd assumption. Will the show ever come back to that assertion, or will it remain another illogical way of insisting that the group is intrinsically better than everyone else they come into contact with? I’m betting on the latter.

Finally, we catch glimpses of a disguised Neo infiltrating the Schnee manor. After everyone leaves she returns to Cinder who says, “Oh, you’re back early. Tell me you’ve found what we’ve been looking for” and Neo gives an affirmative gesture. To which I respond with no emotion whatsoever because this episode has scorched me from the inside out.

1/10 with the 1 given because yay arresting Jacques. Everything else I’d happily put through a paper shredded. I’m gonna go cleanse my mind with more Witcher 3 now.

Until next week! Everyone start praying...

[duckyaltalt]

「herman tommeraas & cis male」⇾ mercer, ducky, the junior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a pisces and 21 years old. he is studying business, living in gorham and can be tenderhearted, nimble, compliant & taciturn. when i see him i am reminded of fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown . ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hi :D this is the last of my OG characters ... the next two will b sexy n new bt they wont arrive fr a while bc i <3 need 2 hv a steady pace <3 anyways hes. rly sad so. good luck charlie <3 okay bye :D

TW CHILD ABUSE / DOMESTIC ABUSE / ABUSE, VIOLENCE, INJURY, TRAUMA, MENTAL ILLNESS, DRUGS / DRUG ABUSE / ADDICTION , GANGS.

aesthetic.

bruises; from beneath your eyes to the edge of your jaw, aligned against your stomach and the sides of your waist and the groves of your knuckles. bleeding noses and bleeding gums, spat out teeth, tattoos scarred from improper treatment, a facial scar; jagged and old, now, from above your eye to beneath your lip. worn hoodies and scuffed sneakers, sunglasses inside. the night sky, and it’s many stars, and how brightly they shone during the 2019 blackout, and wanting to be up there, with them. knowing constellations by heart. wishing to be the face on the moon. beer bottles and secret exchanges. dark alleys. fear, through the very core of your heart. fear, hidden behind a stoic stare.

basic info.

full name: donovan mercer

nickname(s): ducky but i’m 95% sure he hates the nickname it’s just. Stuck with him.

b.o.d. - march 15th, pisces :)

label(s): the allegiant, the despondent, the grifter, the malleable, the vacant, etc.

height: 5′11″

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york

sexuality: bisexual bt make it closeted.

pinterest

stats

inspired by: lip gallagher (shameless), freddie mcclair (skins), frankenstein’s monster (frankenstein), fez (euphoria) … that’s it i don’t know any other characters KJNSGLDNVLSDJNFDS

biography.

born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)

his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.

you can correctly assume that they grew up in a heavily abusive environment, and can imagine the sort of things the two have gone through. ducky was, maybe, the least favorite of their father’s -

- for numerous reasons, and one being that ducky’d always been a sensitive kid. kinder than his brother, and far kinder than his father - kindness is weakness, and ducky was filled with it. too much so, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice. should’ve - but didn’t. and never did, either.

he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed.

he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.

but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be.

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. his grades fluctuated frequently, and it’s a surprise that he hadn’t dropped out of high school altogether.

anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip, the entire left side of his face a bloody mess afterwards. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly. corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

graduated high school and had been on-and-off attending community college since then. he’d miss days at a time, flunk an entire semester’s worth of classes - gpa dropped further and further. wanted to try, but life got in the way. always got in the way.

hadn’t intended on transferring to radcliffe, but their father’d been missing for a few months then, leaving ducky to handle the drugs side of their business in hell’s kitchen - and mercy’d disappeared, too, leaving their branch in lovell completely open. in a split decision - an opportunity, and opening - something he couldn’t miss, or he’d maybe never get the opportunity again, ducky bullshitted a scholarship essay (plagiarism, tsk) and transferred to pick up where mercy’d left.

this wasn’t very well thought out, because that meant there were no mercers in new york - and lars amaretto? not a very understanding man. more of a brute than their father was, by far. to keep a story short - ducky is missing a tooth (molar, luckily, this time) and is … more rough’d up than he’d like to be, for sure. but mercy’s back, now, and he’s still at lovell, at radcliffe.

and that’s enough.

UPDATE: heehaw. mercy is gone & ducky’s still here. feeling a bit lost - dealt with a lot of shit this summer, new wounds and old wounds and just. a lot. started an underground fight club on campus for some extra cash, reasons unknown. being blackmailed by someone named rocky - someone who knows ducky is skimming cash. god. i don’t know ... danger danger danger danger. nightmare-ville. wrapped up in more walls than ever.

personality.

he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.

and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.

he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.

it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.

you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.

violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be harder - and his hits will be, too. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures, occasionally, or physics - or anything that isn’t business, because he hates his major, but he knows it’s the only chance he’s got to stay at radcliffe. and that’s to follow his brother, to follow his father. a business degree treats you well, teaches you skills you’ll need to know for this type of work.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs, only to leave it in the gorham community fridge with no name, something for somebody who may need it. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing, the result of years of abuse. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy. his room is messy, but still oddly barren. nothing on the walls except for a poster or two, sheets a standard navy blue and a row of empty liquor bottles on his windowsill.

a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing. sex is uncomfortable for him, he always feels gross afterwards. wrong, sometimes.

he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it. it’s his first semester at radcliffe.

pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.

in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.

uuuhhh. god. okay so ducky’s got an addiction to xanax. it’s numbing and it’s better than feeling, and he’d rather this than that and it’s. a Thing. we won’t go further into it. besides that - he does smoke weed, does try out some of their products to make sure it’s not … fucked, for their clients, but otherwise fucking hates drugs. social drinker, but still doesn’t like it a lot. hates beer but drinks it often.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted connections.

clients… first n foremost. he needs people to deal to. i don’t think he handles the Hard Shit like mercy does, but like coke and mdma? works for him.

f…riend..s?… like it’s so hard for ducky to be sincere with people but if you don’t mind like … an emotionally distant man who doesn’t even hit 6′ then maybe? he’s your guy? maybe you can break him down a little? chip away at his cold shoulder?

a close…r friend… maybe not like. the best of friends. but at least one normal friend whose world does not revolve around fucking drugs and violence would be nice for ducky. someone he can be a little soft with, as a treat.

hook-ups… not many, because ducky doesn’t really enjoy sex too much but y’know. that’s just how it is. he do be having needs, tho. KDSJGSHDKLFSE god.

fisticuffs!… someone he got into a fistfight with. multiple people he’s gotten into fights with. he’s probably lost them (on purpose) but - mayhaps, some of them, he did not?

gorham roommate… god… i don’t know what these two cld get up to but! maybe give him a sexuality panic but who knows.

unrequited feelings… there’s probably a few of these. whether people are drawn to his fucking ~mysterious~ demeanor (he just has fucking anxiety, man) or mayhaps. mayhaps he has the feelings.

flirtations… he’s never been in a relationship so i can’t really include exes, but he can flirt with people i’d like to think … when he’s drunk. :-)

ghostees… everybody he’s ever fucking ghosted because he’s stupid and is afraid of both friendship and relationships and romance and platonic? feelings of warmth? so sometimes he panics and ghosts people forever. :) spite!

new yorkians… who are familiar with his family or the business they have there

enemies… god. i’m sure he has a lot of these even without attempting to make them. just like, by association, you know? sometimes ducky hates people because mercy does. sometimes he hates people because mercy likes them. JKSDGDSJGFSNLKF

i won’t lie i’m very tired and am having a Troubled Time coming up with connections please. bare with me.

annoyances… i don’t know if ducky can get annoyed very easily but? thorns in his side? something lighthearted? alternately, something Not lighthearted and then ducky :/ goes rogue JKDNGDSNLFK

idk something soft… literally anything soft. please :) give me something soft and cute :) and peaceful and not stressful :)

something ANGSTY and AWFUL… literally. i don’t know. duality of man.

ok i have been awake fr too long i’m going to bed goodnight.

[wigglywormy]

sativa [ian/mickey, 1.6k]

@ticklishraspberries​ ily thank u for sending me this prompt!!!! i hope you like it sorry it took so long lmao xoxoxo (tw for drug use)

--

One good thing that came out of the briefly disastrous period of his life where he enlisted, were the people he met and the connections he made. He met a lot of interesting guys during his time in the army, and though he doesn't really speak to any of them anymore, he still keeps tabs on a few of them for... slightly self-indulgent purposes.

Look, he's been smoking pot for as long as he can remember, ever since Lip shared a joint with him that he stole from Frank when he was twelve years old. Weed relaxes him, takes the edge off of that sharp pointy part in the back of his brain that makes his limbs feel restless if he thinks about it too much.

But yeah, the tabs he keeps on some of his old army buddies are strictly self-indulgent specifically because a few of them are based in the West Coast and have continuously hooked him up with some of the best shit he's ever smoked.

The first time he smoked with Mickey he was a little shocked because Mickey didn't seem to have as much experience as he was expecting. Mickey drinks like a tank and smoke cigarettes like they're oxygen. He'll pop pills for fun, huff spray cans, and ingest his body with any questionable substance he comes across without hesitation. Mickey told him once that pot was alright but that it never really did much for him. Said all the shit that Mandy or his brothers would bring him gave him a slight buzz, but mostly it just made him hungry and tired. Mickey would smoke pot if it was passed to him or given to him for free, but he never went out of his way to get it the way that Ian and Lip did.

That's why Ian is pretty pumped about the pickup he just did with one of his old acquaintances. The guy claims it's medical grade, and when Ian opens the container on his walk over to Mickey's place, the bud is sticky and dense, and it smells almost sweet underneath the earthiness. It's unlike anything Ian's seen before, and he really hopes Mickey's in a good mood today because it's been a long fucking week and all Ian really wants to do right now is roll of fat one and weasel Mickey into making out with him for a few hours.

“Mickey!” He calls out when he walks into the house. No one responds, but hen Ian hears a clang from the kitchen, he peeks his way around the corner and smiles a bit when he sees Mickey pulling something out of the oven. It looks like some sort of lasagna or pasta dish, and fuck, Ian loves when Mickey has free days because he always cooks dinner for them. 

“Hey,” Ian says as he steps into the kitchen, holding up the container and grinning. “Got a surprise for you.”

Mickey’s eyebrows raise, and he takes off his oven mitts and places them on the counter next to the food that’s cooling off. “You know I fuckin’ hate surprises.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “C’mon. Where’s my rolling papers?”

Mickey blinks and tilts his head to the side. “Oh, so it’s that kinda surprise, huh?” He walks closer, and when he’s close enough to touch, Ian can’t help but reach out and tug at the collar of his shirt out of habit, his hand gravitating towards Mickey like a magnet. “I think you shoved your papers in the dresser, next to your meds.”

Ian hums, leaning forward to brush his lips against Mickey’s before spinning around and rushing to the bedroom to grab his stuff. When he comes back, Mickey is sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, and Ian hops over the back of the couch eagerly, dropping the container, his grinder, the papers, and a lighter down onto the cluttered coffee table before getting to work. 

“Lip hook you up?” Mickey asks, and Ian shakes his head. 

“Nah. Old friend from the army. You want first hit?”

Mickey makes a face. “You know that shit just makes me tired.”

“C’mon, Mick, this shit’s different,” Ian waggles his eyebrows. “It’s medical. From California.”

Mickey rolls his eyes so hard Ian’s surprised he doesn’t pop a vessel. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

Ian finishes rolling the joint, packed heavy and twisted tight, before handing it over to Mickey. “First hit, babe?” He says sweetly, grinning big.

“Fuck you,” Mickey laughs, snatching the joint and lighting up. He takes a long drag, exhaling slowly, directly into Ian’s face, and his eyes widen a bit in surprise after a moment. “Huh. Shit’s pretty smooth.”

Ian nods knowingly, taking the joint from Mickey’s fingers. “Told ya.” He takes a hit for himself, holding the smoke until he can’t anymore, and lets his limbs relax. 

Thirty minutes and two and a half joints later, Mickey - who’d normally be napping by now, limbs heavy and sleepy from the weed - is laughing nearly hysterically at whatever stupid show he decided to put on the tv. Ian’s not even staring at the screen, too busy staring at Mickey and his red-rimmed eyes and scrunched up nose as he laughs. He doesn’t get to see Mickey so open like this very often, and Ian is stoned enough that it’s probably the greatest thing he’s ever seen in his life? Probably. Yeah. 

“This is such a fuckin’ stupid show,” Mickey says, but he’s laughing again like he can’t stop, and he finally turns and catches Ian staring. “What the fuck’re you lookin’ at, Gallagher?”

His lips are still twitching on a grin, and Ian slides closer to him on the couch. “You.”

“Fuckin’ gay,” Mickey says, matter-of-factly, but doesn’t pull back when Ian crawls closer, pressing Mickey into the arm of the couch. Mickey reaches a hand up, lazy and soft, and runs his fingers through Ian’s hair, messing up the strands and making them stick up awkwardly. 

“Hey,” Ian protests, frowning a bit, and Mickey snickers into his hand, eyes half lidded and practically sparkling with something so Mickey that Ian’s heart jumps at his gaze. 

“Your hair looks fuckin’ stupid,” Mickey states, and Ian rolls his eyes, crowding even closer to Mickey, their noses nearly touching. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” Ian growls playfully, leaning down quickly and nipping gently at the skin below Mickey’s jaw. Mickey flinches and snorts, his hands coming up to grip at Ian’s shirt. 

“Don’t,” He breathes, laughter in his words, and it’s then Ian gets a suddenly wonderful idea. 

“Don’t what?” Ian says against the skin of Mickey’s neck, feeling the smaller boy twitch against him. 

“Fuck off, Ian,” Mickey says, but Ian’s hands have already slipped beneath Mickey’s loose tshirt, his fingers pressing into his waist, nails scratching lightly against bare skin, and Mickey’s back arches like he’s been electrocuted. Ian’s got him pressed against the couch though, his body strong and solid above Mickey’s, so all Mickey can do is wiggle a bit and fist his hands tighter into the front of Ian’s shirt. 

“Ian!”

“Mickey,” Ian teases, leaning back so he can see Mickey’s face, adorably flushed and expression open. The weed has Mickey heavy-weighted and pliant, not even trying to fight back, because normally whenever Ian pulls some shit like this, well, Mickey fights back with all his fucking strength in order to escape. He hates feeling vulnerable, but right now he seems to be almost….enjoying it? Interesting.

Ian’s being gentle for the moment, but as his fingers slip higher, wedging beneath Mickey’s arms and digging in, Mickey squeals, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle himself. It doesn’t work, and soon he’s laughing openly, his hands falling away to grip Ian’s biceps, and once again, the red-head notes, Mickey’s not trying to push him away at all. 

“Mick,” Ian whispers, the taste of weed lingering in his mouth when he licks into Mickey’s own, kissing the giggles right out of him as he continues to torture his boyfriend. “What’re you doin’?”

Mickey bumps his nose against Ian’s, giggles a bit. “F-fuck you, what’re y-you doing?” He kicks his legs a bit, and Ian tries not to swoon because god, Mickey’s so cute. “This isn’t f-fuckin’ fair, I’m stoned you asshole!”

“Life isn’t fair,” Ian replies, reaching a hand down to press into that soft place of Mickey’s inner thigh, and Mickey curses at him around a squeak. “Also, you’re not trying very hard to get me to stop, y’know.”

Mickey’s face gets pinker, but he’s still stoned as shit and all he manages is a rough tug to Ian’s hair as he squirms beneath him, biting his lip on a grin. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t be mean,” Ian smirks, using his weight to press his chest against Mickey’s before drilling his fingers into his hips, where Ian knows he’s the most ticklish. 

“Sh-shit! Ian - !” Mickey cackles, throwing his head back, and Ian uses the opportunity to kiss up his neck, butterfly soft in a way that has Mickey absolutely shaking underneath him, and really, Ian should buy this kinda pot way more often because he’s never seen Mickey so willing and pliant like this before. It’s amazing and almost ridiculously sexy. Mickey has always been able to effortlessly drive Ian wild, without even trying, and Ian hates and loves him for it.

Mickey makes a pathetic growling noise as he shoves at Ian’s torturous hands.“C’mon, you’re the one b-being fucking mean!”

Ian sighs, but eventually - and reluctantly -  he slows his touches, running his hands soothingly up Mickey’s sides as he catches his breath. Ian can’t help the dopey look that crosses his face as he stares down at his breathless boyfriend, though.

“Asshole, the fuck are you lookin’ at?” Mickey wheezes, but he’s still smiling and leaning up to brush their noses together, so Ian definitely counts it as a win.

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 11 Extravapalooza

Holy moly, we’ve already made it to Week 11. I’m honestly conflicted over whether or not this is a good thing. In terms of basic pandemic mitigation practices, the NFL conducting its season is fucking insane. These guys are all well-compensated pros, but they’re still taking risks well above and beyond what they normally do, and I truly feel pretty shitty about that. In addition, the fact that some stadiums are allowing thousands of fans inside during games is a crime against humanity, and it really lays bare how craven and sociopathic the ghouls who own sports franchises are. 

With that said, it’s extremely hypocritical of me to be so disdainful of the NFL’s current existence, since I watch the games, set my fantasy lineup, and generally enjoy all the stuff that comes with an NFL season. I usually bristle and roll my eyes whenever a sporting entity trots out the whole “We feel like we’re helping society by providing a distraction from everything going on” line, but in this case, with where we are right now as a country...the NFL really is doing that. For me, anyway. Is the stress-relief that the NFL provides to me and millions of other people worth all the bad stuff that comes with it? I don’t know. Probably not. But, I’d be lying if I said I’m not thankful that it’s there.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Tennessee Titans at Baltimore Ravens (-6)

It’s odd to have a game between a pair of 6-3 teams widely considered contenders that feels like a “must win” for each scuffling side. A great man once said “Desperation is a stinky cologne,” and the Titans absolutely reek coming into this one, so I’m giving them the edge. Baltimore being down two starting defensive linemen when Derrick Henry comes to town also factors into my pick, but nobody wants to hear that nerd shit, gotta go with my GUT, baby!

Philadelphia Eagles at Cleveland Browns (-2.5)

Hey, Cleveland doesn’t have to play in the middle of a tornado this week! There will still be driving rains, though. Fortunately, the Browns are built for the slop. RBs Nick Chubb and Kareem Hunt are both ridiculous, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to G Wyatt Teller, who is currently Pro Football Focus’ highest-graded player...in the entire NFL. That’s some grade A beef! DE and straight-up superhuman Myles Garrett is out for this one, which is an enormous blow for the Cleveland defense. If I had any confidence whatsoever in Carson Wentz I’d think about taking Philly, but that young man is a mess.

Pittsburgh Steelers (-10.5) at Jacksonville Jaguars

I’m once again betting on the Steelers playing down to the level of their competition. The Jags kept things close against the Packers last week, there’s fight in them thar cats.

Cincinnati Bengals at Washington Football Team (-1.5)

I’m still extremely nervous for Alex Smith the entire time he’s on the field, but I have to admit there’s something magical about him making it all the way back to being exactly as Alex Smith-y as he was before (minus the scrambling ability, obviously). Washington RB J.D. McKissic has 16(!) catches on 29(!!) targets over the two games Smith has started. If this continues J.D. is going to owe Alex a cut of his next contract, and possibly the mineral rights to his legs if the need arises.

Today is Cincy RB Gio Bernard’s birthday, so LOOK OUT LADIES!

Atlanta Falcons at New Orleans Saints (-3.5)

I’m making this pick based on the assumption that New Orleans really does roll with Taysom Hill at QB for the entire game, because that’s what all currently available information indicates will happen. I really do wonder if that’s going to be the case, though. I’ve read a couple of things speculating that the reason Hill is starting is that if Jameis plays he’s likely to reach various incentive clauses in his contract and cost the Saints a bunch of money. That seems utterly ridiculous to me, because why the hell would you bother signing him at all if this is how you were gonna roll? Then again, I’m not a Football Man, so maybe my un-browned normie brain just doesn’t understand.

Detroit Lions (-3) at Carolina Panthers

CATFIGHT!!!

The Lions are the orange kitty in this scenario, because Matthew Stafford will be playing through a torn thumb while not having WR Kenny Golladay or RB D’Andre Swift at his disposal. 

New England Patriots (-2) at Houston Texans

The concept of an “emotional hedge,” first introduced to me by RTARL commenter Beer, is in play here. I have NO idea if the Patriots are actually decent or not, and this has all the makings of a letdown game coming off of their unexpected win over Baltimore. Reigning Defensive Player of the Year Stephon Gilmore is expected to be back for the Pats in this one, which is very nice. RB Sony Michel is also likely coming back, which could muddy the backfield and take touches away from Damien Harris, which is less nice. 

The Patriots have an atrocious rush defense, but Houston’s primary RB, Duke Johnson, is far better as a receiver than as a straight-up runner, so I’m not sure they can take advantage all that much. In addition, Duke’s receiving skills are mostly squandered because QB DeShaun Watson hates checking down and seemingly prefers to take sacks while looking for throws downfield instead. Wait, why the hell am I picking Houston here??? Is this what hedging is? I don’t like it!

LATE GAMES

New York Jets at Los Angeles Chargers (-9.5)

It feels weird to lay 9.5 points with a 2-7 team, but such is the power of the Jets’ ineptitude. To New York’s credit, they were competitive in two of their last three games (against NE and BUF), but those two games were sandwiched around a 35-9 beatdown at the hands of Kansas City. We would all feel better if the cool, young Chargers steamrolled these sad sacks in a joyous explosion of big plays, and this pick is my attempt at speaking it into existence. 

Miami Dolphins (-3.5) at Denver Broncos

I don’t know why I have an affinity for Drew Lock, but I do. He probably appeals to the same part of my brain that delights in terrible movies and horrible jokes, which is the most backhanded compliment I have ever given anyone in my entire life. Drew's gonna tough it out and try to play through a rib injury this week, which is gutty and admirable and all that, but I can’t imagine it’s going to help his already shaky accuracy.

Green Bay Packers at Indianapolis Colts (-1.5)

The Packers are getting their best defensive player back in CB Jaire Alexander, which will make life more difficult for increasingly-noodle-armed Colts QB Philip Rivers. Conversely, Indy’s defense is among the best in the league, so I don’t really see a carnival of offense coming from the Packers, either. Honestly, this should be a close, well-played game between two exceedingly competent squads. The kind of game where there will be long stretches where nothing major happens, but you can point out random shit that happens away from the ball and talk about line play and really sound like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. A tremendous game for fraudulent football-knowers everywhere.

Dallas Cowboys at Minnesota Vikings (-7)

It would be an INCREDIBLY Vikings move to lose this game outright. The return of Andy Dalton is being treated like it’s something that’ll get the Cowboys somewhat back on track, but prior to his injury he looked like crap, so I don’t really know where that’s coming from. Also, while he was out with a concussion he had a bout with COVID-19 that “hit him hard.” It’s tough for me to imagine he’s going to play BETTER coming out of what sounds like a truly shitty few weeks.

SNF: Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A lot has been made about how pissed Kansas City is about the Raiders taking a supposed “victory lap” in their team bus around the Arrowhead parking lot after their win over the Chiefs earlier in the season, and I’m choosing to completely buy into this narrative because it’s fucking hilarious. If K.C. has already reached the “needing to exaggerate/outright invent slights to get up for regular season games against inferior opponents” portion of their reign, we’re in great shape for entertainment purposes going forward.

MNF: Los Angeles Rams at Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-4)

I don’t remotely trust Jared Goff against Tampa Bay’s defense. I do think this is probably our SMASHMOUTH NOSEBLEED GRIND IT OUT Game of the Week, and I can already see Tom Brady screaming at his offensive linemen at some point after he gets popped a couple of times during a single possession. Should be fun!

Last Week’s Record: 7-5-1

Season Record: 65-68-5

[rohans-wig]

Hey~can I ask for a scenario with p4 Josuke with a fem!s/o who is the "smart person" in class and always gets good grades, but one time she didn't do well on one test and the rest of the class are like "WOW, Can't believe she got that!" And like some made rude comments? She knows this is coming but what would he do? Thx xoxo uwu

ooh I love this! I just realized Josuke is my most requested character and I love that. my sweet pompadour prince 😩

Your heart immediately dropped when your teacher announced that the test was being handed back. See, normally this didn’t bother you at all, if anything it always made you excited to see how well you did on any test or paper. You were one of the top students in your school and it was well known. Teachers always praised you, students always asked for your help, you were constantly getting awards, and everything. Even though you were a quiet student, everyone knew who you were due to how smart you are. 

This wasn’t particularly a bad thing, but it sure as hell wasn’t a good thing either. You were constantly under pressure, you had to always do good or else people would freak out and think you weren’t as smart as they thought. But not only you were scared people would judge you, your self esteem would hit an all time low if you don’t do as well as you normally do.

After a few minutes of pure anxiety as the teacher listed the names before yours, she finally called out your name. You got up and walked to the front of the class to grab your test. You refused to look at it until you sat down at your desk, not wanting everyone to see your reaction. You finally sat down, slowly turning your test to the front page.

As you thought, it wasn’t good. Far from good.

You felt your eyes tear up a little as you stared at the sheet of paper that had a large red D on it marked in pen. You were completely shocked, but not surprised; you knew you didn’t do as well on this test. Never once in your school life you have gotten a D, you never even gotten anything below a B and even getting a B was quite rare for you. 

Unfortunately, some students that sat next to you saw your grade. You heard them chatting among themselves, one of them was laughing and saying something to their friend as they looked at you. 

“Holy shit, can you believe she got that?”

“I know! Isn’t she suppose to be the smartest person in the school too?”

You couldn’t believe the audacity these people had to say rude comments about what you got on your test. You put your head down, crying to yourself. You didn’t want anyone to see your tears. After a couple minutes, the bell for the next class rang. You jolted out with your head down, walking towards the restroom so you could be by yourself. 

It wasn’t until you ran into someone, you went to apologize until you realized it was your boyfriend, Josuke. He was the last person you wanted to see when you were like this, you didn’t want him to think you weren’t as smart as he thought. Josuke wasn’t the best student contrary to you. He never did any of his work really and got into trouble sometimes, but of course, you helped changed that a little since you got with him.

You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from crying, you tried to avoid eye contact so he didn’t see, but he immediately noticed. His smile turned into a concerned face when he saw your eyes. You knew you weren’t going to get away without telling him what was wrong either, and it was painfully obvious that you were upset. 

“Woah [Name], whats wrong?” he said in concern. You sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to leave you alone until you told him.

“...I didn’t do good on my test” you stuttered, choking on your words and tearing up even more. Your face felt hot from all of the embarrassment you felt, first some people in class made fun of your grade, and now your boyfriend knows that you weren’t as smart and saw you in a crying mess. You didn’t know what to do at the moment, you just wanted to run away and hide until this passed over. 

Before Josuke said something else, the people who made fun of you earlier were looking at you and saying rude things once again while they were at their lockers. 

Oh no, you thought. Josuke clenched his fist as he heard what they were saying, he was most definitely pissed. Josuke was a nice person, that is until you insult his hair and his girlfriend. He started walking towards the group of people, his face red with rage and his fists still clenched. They were absolutely terrified. 

He went up to the boy who was the one saying things about you, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“What did you say about her!?” he shouted at the frightened teenage boy. 

“N-nothing! Please let me go, I won’t say anything about her again, please!” he pleaded. You couldn’t help but smile a little as your boyfriend threatened to beat their asses, they literally looked like they were about to piss their pants. Josuke then let the boy go, him and his friends running away from him. At least nobody will give you shit for getting a bad grade now.

Josuke went back up to you, grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry about that, babe. Are you okay?” he asked, back to being concern again. You could never understand how he could switch moods so quickly.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, giving him a small smile. “A little,” you said while squeezing his hand.

“You know, grades don’t determine your intelligence, I still think you’re the smartest girl I know.” he smiled.

You looked up at him with a surprised expression, “Really?” 

You felt more relieved knowing that he didn’t judge you.

He smiled and laughed, ruffling your hair. “Of course. Don’t let one stupid test say you’re not smart when you are, besides I’m pretty sure everyone failed that test anyway.” he stated, giving you a smile.

“Now lets hurry up and get to class, the bell is about to ring!” he remarked as he started walking with you, still holding onto your hand.

Even though you still were a bit disappointed in yourself, Josuke did manage to make you feel better. You were happy to have that goofy dork as a boyfriend, you felt lucky to have a person as wonderful as him in your life. He never failed to make you feel better even if you’re at your worst.

[minaminokyoko]

Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker--A Spoilertastic Review

Boy, oh, boy.

Well, it’s over.

And I don’t know how I feel about it.

Let me start as I always do by saying I have no attachment to Star Wars. It’s always just be something to watch for me, nothing more, nothing less. I am ambiguous and apathetic. I admit that the first time I ever perked up was with The Force Awakens, which I still think is on par with the first two original films in terms of being engrossing. I actually liked it more because Rey and Finn connected with me more than I did with Luke as a kid. Then Last Jedi happened and it derailed the places that I had hoped we were going to go. I didn’t dislike Last Jedi, but I certainly didn’t like it either. I appreciate the risks it took, but I felt it didn’t pull them off and that’s why I had zero expectations for this film. It left a lot of people unsure of the future.

And unfortunately, J. J. Abrams pussed out.

There is no other way to say it. He basically listened to the people who complained about The Last Jedi and catered the characters’ development in order to try to please them. Which is shitty as hell.

That being said, this is an enjoyable movie, imo. It’s a satisfying end to the overall Skywalker saga, I think, but not to its original characters. I’ll explain below.

Overall Grade: C+

Spoilers ahead, as always.

Pros:

-The action is great. Just great. Really engrossing, really fun sequences. Everyone pulls their weight, too, unlike the subplots in Last Jedi. It’s also visually stunning. It’s a polished film, much like what we’ve been enjoying about the Mandolorian, how it integrates real sets with effects instead of just that sterile bluescreen nonsense Disney has been doing recently.

-Reuniting Finn, Rey, and Poe was a fucking Godsend. They are so likable together. It was the whole reason I liked The Force Awakens so much. They’re a good group and you really root for them the entire time. I’m glad they let them be in the story together. It’s the way it should be. They have a ton of chemistry and I would like it very much if they are kicking off an original franchise now that they have ended the Skywalker saga. We’ll see.

-Poe in particular is a lot of fun in this film, which is much needed since he was such a headstrong pain in the Last Jedi. Here he’s back to being just charming and salty and likable as hell. I really enjoyed Isaac finding a path for Poe, because at first he was kind of filling the snarky badass role that Han Solo did but he found his own way and I like him a lot for that same reason. He’s convicted but he’s softened up from how he was in Last Jedi and I think it works great.

-Rey being at the center of the story—and don’t worry, we’ll talk about this below, ugh—even though I highly disagree with the direction they took her in, is still great. I like that they still didn’t listen to the whiny gits who hate a woman being a Jedi. I like that Rey is fighting every second to hold onto her own truth and be her own person. Good for you, girlie. I do hope she gets more stories. She’s a good bean.

-The tribute to Carrie Fisher was nothing short of beautiful. I got choked up. Thank you for honoring her. I miss her so much. I only wish she could have seen it herself. She’s such an inspiration.

-Good pacing. Nothing stagnates and there aren’t any subplots that feel extraneous like in Last Jedi. The film is focused on all the right areas.

-Kylo Ren fucking dies like he deserves. See ya later, Darth Fuckboi. But we’ll also discuss that below.

-The Han Solo cameo caught me waaaaaaaaaaay off-guard. Harrison Ford has made no bones about hating Han Solo, which annoys me because I still think Han is his best performance, and yet he still agreed to cameo, so that was pretty neat. Unexpected for sure. But I’m sure Disney waved a very pretty paycheck and he only had about 10 lines, so why not?

-I did like Rey’s adoption of the Skywalker name. Thank you for giving meaning to that strange title choice. It’s very heartwarming to end on that image of Luke and Leia, together again, smiling fondly at this little girl they adopted. She ended a war and now she can be herself. I loved her creating a gold lightsaber too. It’s very fitting and it’s such a great thing to see. As a female fangirl, it makes my heart sing to know that millions of little girls get to grow up with a female Jedi as the lead in the new franchise.

-It was nice to see Lando again! Good for Billy D.

Cons:

I have three big fucking problems with this movie. They don’t break the entire movie, but they damage it so much that now I get why the movie is getting so many mixed reviews. The things this movie does well, it does well, but the things it fucks up? My God, does it fuck them up. Let’s dig in.

-First huge problem: *gets out loud speaker* KYLO FUCKING REN DID NOT DESERVE A FUCKING REDEMPTION ARC. FUCK. THIS. FUCKING. FUCKBOI. HE DOES NOT DESERVE A REDEMPTION ARC BECAUSE HE IS A GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING SPACE NAZI AND HIS ACTIONS DO NOT AT ALL WARRANT A KISS FROM REY NOR FORGIVENESS FROM ANYONE. FUCK DARTH FUCKBOI. FUCK ANYONE WHO THINKS HE COULD BE REDEEMED AFTER KILLING HIS FATHER IN COLD BLOOD AND TRYING TO KILL HIS MOTHER AND OH YEAH REMEMBER THE BILLIONS OF DEAD INNOCENT PEOPLE HE KILLED AS A PART OF THE FIRST FUCKING ORDER OH MY GOD THIS IS THE WORST WRITING HOW FUCKING DARE YOU.

Ahem.

This arc did not work in the Last Jedi either and yet here we fucking are. We are in a world that is asking us to forgive a goddamn Space Nazi. It’s so unacceptable. But I shouldn’t be surprised, since this is the same fucking year Hollywood is trying to ask me to feel bad for the goddamn fucking Joker.

Kylo Ren does not and never will deserve a fucking redemption arc. He willfully slaughtered billions of people. Billions. Fuck you for asking me to care about him. Fuck you for that disgusting kiss. He is an abuser and Rey has not shown any romantic interest in him whatsoever up until this point. I can’t fucking believe they pandered to the fucking gross ass Reylo fans. And yes, fight me, I don’t care, Reylo is fucking problematic as hell and that was the most forced bullshit I’ve ever seen in my life. Go to hell.

-Second huge problem: retconning Rey’s backstory made me fucking furious. It was the one fucking thing I didn’t want J. J. to mess with and not only did he mess with it, he went with the most illogical fucking method to make Rey’s lineage “important.” Say what you want about the Last Jedi but the thing that worked best was Rey’s parents being fucking nobodies who sold her off. That was a great story element. It reinforces the very important idea that you are who you choose to be, to quote the immortal words of The Iron Giant. Where you came from does not fucking matter. Your blood does not matter. You are the person that you want to be and that’s how you should live your life, with choices that are important to who you are, not where you came from. They backtracked just to pay lip service to the originals for no reason and because they got too scared to color outside of the lines.

-Third huge problem: Palpatine’s retconned inclusion in the story. There is no way you can convince me that old ass Palpatine crawled on top of a woman and made a baby. It does not fit at all. It’s just stupid, stupid crap and I hate it with my entire soul. I want to slap whoever the hell wrote it. Not only does the Palpatine bullshit make no narrative sense, it’s a straight up retconned bullshit plothole. I defer to the experts, but from what I remember, there was no indication he was still alive in the previous films. It overshadows what was a promising story and it derails so much for her fucking character to have this useless lineage garbage that doesn’t work on any level. There was no reason to crawl back to Palpatine when Last Jedi felt as if it was leading towards Kylo fulling stepping into the Big Bad role and Rey rejecting his stalker, abusive shit to be the Jedi she wanted and needed to be.

-Continuing the “maybe Rey is secretly evil” bullshit from the last movie. I hated this in Last Jedi too. Rey shows absolutely no signs of being evil. Ever. At most, she loses her temper, but that’s it. Normal good people can lose their temper. The movie constantly keeps saying maybe she’s bad but her actions are universally good, kind, brave, and helpful, so why the hell did they pursue this nonsense at all? It’s clear that Rey is virtuous. The First Order has done nothing but oppress her and kill innocent people, so why the hell would she ever entertain the thought of joining them? It’s so pointless. The only time it even made a little sense was when Palpatine said she could save her friends by commanding the Final Order and even then it was a fucking stretch. Christ, I hate it when the writing is forcing something that does not match the character’s actions. Good job with the Force vision, by the way. Every single non-stupid person knew it was going to be a Force vision when we saw it in the trailer, you cliché bastards. They were wasting everyone’s time with this and they should be ashamed of themselves.

-Not going anywhere with Finn telling Rey how he felt. Finn in general was still sort of not as important overall as I want him to be, but we’ll see if that changes if their stories continue past the Skywalker saga. Either way, the attention has constantly been shifted away from Finn and Rey and it’s very frustrating because their friendship is so endearing. Whether you ship it or not, it’s an important relationship and I wish they had spent more time on it instead of having him fret after her constantly. Sigh.

I probably need to keep marinating on this film. There’s a lot to drink in. As I said, I’m not sure how I feel, since the good is really good, but the bad is really bad. It feels like it’s not good enough for a B grade, but it’s better than a C grade, like I need a letter between these two. It could’ve been done so much better, but it also could have been done much worse. I definitely like it better than Last Jedi, but it’s not exactly good either. It’s a trouble film. It’s a fun film. It’s just…a lot of things. I would say that the scale makes it satisfying as a closing statement to the saga, but not for the individual characters. Rey’s derailment due to Darth Fuckboi is a huge disservice, so while I think people are overreacting, I get why they’re angry at the film, especially for the three things I noted. It truly seems to be a film split right down the center in terms of good/bad. That’s all I can say for now.