#progress still has been exponential though and I stand by what I said

[reasonsforhope]

100% have been perusing your climate change masterpost, and understand you're probably swamped so feel free to delete of course. But if you can find the time, is there any kind of hope to give in fighting climate change now? Can we save ourselves against the oncoming steamroll?

You hang in there too. Thanks for finding the hope among everything else. It feels so bad rn but I have to believe it can change. I hope it can.

Yeah actually I do think there is hope.

Things are going to get rough. Things are going to get worse before they get better, both for the climate and for people living in the US (and for people living in lots and lots of other countries that will be affected by the US election results/the ways the climate will worsen as aa result).

I haven't posted about this yet because I didn't want it to come to this, but now that it has, here's something that people have been quietly saying/research has been showing for months:

-via Reuters, November 6, 2024

Renewables, especially solar, are just too powerful to be stopped. They just too much cheaper and too much better, and that's only going to become more true, not less.

Also, I think (and hope) it's actually inevitable that at some point, we'll get to net negative carbon emissions. I think it's like solar: the technology, cost, and planet all make it feel like an inevitable technological trajectory, the same way solar tech is on an exponential trajectory. (IF WE WORK FOR IT, OBVIOUSLY, but also so, so many people ARE working for it, have dedicated their lives to working for it)

I sure fucking hope that's the case, anyway.

(You can find my masterpost on going net negative on what that actually means here)

It is gonna happen more slowly and shittily than I hoped, but I do think it's going to happen.

And if we can get to net negative emissions in time to save ourselves (which I think we will, the rates of advancement in many of these areas are very impressive), then we'll be able to slowly start to undo and heal lot of the damage.

[phonkg]

01 // #0385 - Order

"Jirachi, the Wish Pokémon, Steel and Psychic Type. A legend states that they will make true any wish that is written on the notes attached to their head when they awaken. If this Pokémon senses danger, they will fight without awakening. A legend no one cares enough to believe anymore." — Jirachi's Pokédex Entry

...why?

Why hasn't any of them come and search for me?

Even if I'm standing right here... they never approach me.

Didn't they hear about the legend...?

I, Jirachi, that can easily grant wishes. Health, wealth, relationship and all that...

...it's as if... they didn't have a wish to wish for.

I don't understand... it's only been a thousand years, and they already lost all their desires...?

No. Impossible.

I need to delve deeper... into this city.

.   .   .   .   .   .

27 February 452

I wake up on the mountain I chose to sleep on one millennium ago. It stood the test of time and served well as my chamber. Still prefer to sleep on comets, though.

A thousand years... a lot has changed. There's a civilisation built just beside the mountain now. A city, it'd seem.

Holy moly, that's a freaking skyscraper! They really have grown exponentially!

The last millennium managed to leave a strong impression on me... let's see what this milennium has to offer! Here's hoping the people are just as welcoming and vibrant as I remembered it...

.   .   .   .   .   .

This is... a train station? It's a station, right? It seems much more systematic now...

The humans and the Pokémons living together... good, that's always a sight to see...

Those buildings, though... like freaking towers...! Their technology progressed so rapidly. It's hard to process all these at once...

But, wait a minute...

...do they not... recognise me?

I am THE Jirachi, surely they know of me, right...? The Mythical Pokémon that can grant wishes...?

They DO have wishes they want to fulfill, right...?

They're all passing me, though! Are they ignoring me...?

Their faces... dull and cold, not a tint of hope in their eyes... are they hiding them intentionally, or do they just don't have them anymore...? E... even the Pokémons... look like they're existing just for the sake of existing...

Is it just me being overly scrutiny, or...?

Why?

What's with their vacant eyes?

People used to be so lively before this... their faces used to shine in passion...

Did... did those passion die?

They were so expressive before... what happened?

Heh, why am I bothered by this...? No, not 'bothered'... more like 'disturbed', 'disgusted'... I want to see them happy...!

I... I want to see them smile...

<???>

Hey. You over there.

<Me>

AH!

I let out a shriek, as I jerk up.

Finally, someone recognised me! Who called me?

<???>

I suppose you're new around here.

It's a... Bronzong?

<Me>

You're... a Pokémon? You can talk now...?!

<???>

...guess you really did sleep over a thousand years. Yes, with adequate education, a Pokémon can speak fluently. It's been a thing for like... centuries.

<???>

Having a brainfuck now, huh? With all those new shit around you.

<Me>

What's a brainfuck?

<???>

...oh.

<???>

Never mind. I'm Rust the Bronzong. Here to make friends.

<Rust>

Jirachi, yeah? You have a name? A personal name?

A name...? A nickname?

<Me>

...no.

<Rust>

Hmm. Well, no one's gonna recognise you anyway unless they're some hardcore Pokémon researcher or something... it's a good thing, to be honest.

<Me>

Why? My purpose is to fulfill their wishes and see their smiles! Is that a bad thing...?

<Rust>

...maybe it wasn't a millennium ago. But not now... not here.

<Rust>

Remember where you are, JIrachi. This is not the happy-go-lucky world you used to know anymore.

<Rust>

This is Zeroid City.

<Rust>

...a place no one gives a flying fuck about laws.

......

...huh?

I am stunned for a few moments, not truly comprehending what he just said.

<Me>

What?

<Rust>

You'll see the longer you stay here.

<Rust>

To spend this millennium in this shitty city, out of all places... I pity you, actually.

<Rust>

You have nowhere to settle in, yeah? Come to my place. It's getting late, Zeroid gets even scarier at night.

<Me>

You're willing to take me in? Thanks!

<Rust>

Not without a price.

Oh. Of course, it's only fair.

<Me>

And what's the price?

<Rust>

Fulfilling my wishes. Like you wanted to do.

<Me>

Sounds easy enough!

<Rust>

My wishes are... heavy, though. And I don't intend to take 'no' for an answer if you do take the offer.

<Rust>

You still want it?

Heavy? Could it be something... malicious?

<Me>

I...

<Rust>

It's about nightfall now. Like I just said, Zeroid at night is a living hell.

<Me>

Okay, okay... I'll take it. You seem kind enough.

<Rust>

Fantastic. I appreciate the trust. Now then —

<???>

GET BACK HERE WITH MY FUCKING BAG!!

What the...?

I turn around, and see a human chasing after an Excadrill.

<Me>

What's going on there...?!

<Rust>

...a mugger.

<???>

Anyone, stop that fucking Excadrill...!!

<Me>

We... we have to help him, right?

<Rust>

...I'd suggest against it. You'll get yourself in unnecessary troubles.

He... he's rejecting to help...?

<Me>

Why?!

<Rust>

Backstabbing is also a common theme here. Don't stick your nose to where it doesn't belong.

How could you?! Why would you ignore others in need like that? Have the people lost their dignity?

No, I must keep mine... as a Mythical.

<Rust>

Hey, where are you going?

<Me>

Do the right thing!

I try to catch up with the Excadrill.

<Rust>

Motherfucker, they're gonna get themself killed...

.   .   .   .   .   .

They sprint and sprint, and I follow them closely. The chase goes into an alleyway.

I see, the human's trying to corner the Excadrill. Good thinking...

<???>

Huff... huff... it's a dead end, bitch. Now give me back the bag...

<Me>

It's not right to mug someone like that! Return the bag immediately!

<???>

You...

<???>

Thanks.

It growls at us. Doesn't seem like it wants to make it easy.

<Me>

Now now... you're making us resort to violent ways...

Its claws harden. That eliminates the option of negotiating.

<???>

He's going to attack!

<Me>

Don't worry. It can't even touch me.

My eyes glow in blue. A quick Psychic should finish it off.

Clenching my right hand, I swing my arm to the left, flailing and crashing its body to a wall.

It tosses the bag to us. Were it to do that from the start, it wouldn't have to end up like this.

<Me>

Huff. That was easy.

<???>

Thanks... I really appreciate it...

<Me>

You're welcome.

<???>

A Psychic Type, huh...?

<???>

...seize it, Awl.

<Me>

Wait, wha —

All of a sudden, the Excadrill gets back up and grabs me from behind, locking my shoulders with its arms.

Wait, what's going on...?!

<Me>

What the...!? I thought it's...

<???>

Awl ain't that weak to be taken down in a single move. I see you're new to Zeroid City, falling for such a simple trick.

<Me>

Trick...?

<???>

Your kindness leads you to this fate, Pokémon.

<???>

It's nothing personal.

The Excadrill talks?! So they know each other?

<???>

You seem like a new Pokémon, so I don't know how much you're worth of...

<???>

Considering you're a Psychic Type... it shouldn't be lower than a million bucks.

He then proceeds to take out a Poké Ball from his bag.

Wait, wait... hold on, I don't understand...! What's happening...!? Didn't I help them? Why are they...

<Rust>

If you're just gonna stand there, it'll make their job a lot easier, you know.

<???>

What the...?

It's Rust... placing his bell-like body on top of the man, trapping him inside...

What's he doing?

<Rust>

You picked the wrong Pokémon to fuck with.

<???>

Get off me! GET OFF...

DONG...!!

He thumped his body with the man still inside. A loud chime follows.

As Rust gets off, his ears are bleeding, before falling to the ground, unconscious.

<Me>

GEEZ...

<Awl>

You piece of shit...!

<Rust>

He's just fainted. I would've shattered his skull if I were to max out the strength.

<Rust>

Leave and get his eardrums treated, before it's too late.

<Awl>

You... ugh, fuck it...

The Excadrill lets go of me, as it carries his trainer and rushes away.

<Rust>

...a close one.

<Rust>

Are you stupid or something? They were about to capture you, dumbass. With your power, you could've gotten out of that situation without my help.

<Me>

I... I was just stunned... couldn't take in whatever has unfolded...

<Rust>

You're lucky I'm here. This is always how Zeroiders do stuff, by leading them into an alley and start gangbanging them. Always the alley where the craziest shit happen. Brawling, pushing, killing, fucking... thank Arceus you're still alive.

<Me>

The... the people have changed, huh...?

<Rust>

...I don't know what it's like a thousand years ago. Remember you're in here now.

I lower my head.

This is not the world I know of... no...

<Rust>

...sigh.

<Rust>

...you know. You remind me of my trainer. She's pretty kind, too... helping others without asking anything for return...

<Me>

W... where is she?

<Rust>

......

<Rust>

...dead. She's dead.

That sends a shock down to my spine.

How... could that have happened...?

...I dare not to ask.

<Rust>

It's getting late. C'mon, let's go to my place.

<Rust>

You have three wishes to fulfill tomorrow.

<Me>

I...

<Me>

...never mind.

I gulp back my words, as I follow Rust.

What will his wishes be?

.   .   .   .   .   .

He takes me to what looks like a room in an apartment.

Opening the door, the interior seems small but oddly cosy.

<Rust>

Hope you don't mind the mess.

<Me>

You... sleep here? Every night?

<Rust>

Any problems, deity?

<Me>

...no.

<Rust>

Jirachis are awake for seven days, right? Guess you'll have to spend it all in here.

<Me>

Maybe I'm awake a little too early...

<Rust>

I'd beg to differ. You see, I have a plan...

<Rust>

...to decide this city's fate.

<Rust>

And you happened to be awake right now. How convenient.

I look at him with a confused look. Is he teasing me?

<Rust>

I'm real glad to meet you, Jirachi.

Huh?

Tha... that was sudden...

<Me>

What... what do you mean?

<Rust>

I believe you've heard me saying that my trainer's passed, correct? Your presence gave me enough confidence to start our plan...

<Rust>

My trainer and my own plan... to change this city...

<Rust>

To realise it, you're an irreplaceable component.

<Me>

Change this city...?

<Rust>

I'm sure you've seen it by now.

<Rust>

How filthy and fucked up this city is...

<Rust>

I want to put a stop to all that.

<Rust>

...while I still can.

He speaks of a dream so highly... yet he acts so ruthless and adament...

An ordinary Bronzong trying to bring change.

Hmm... it's hard to say whether he's resolute or just plain foolish.

<Me>

And how do you plan to achieve that?

<Rust>

That, will be tomorrow's subject.

<Rust>

Rest now. I need you to be on full throttle the next day.

<Me>

...okay...

Thus, the conversation ends abruptly.

That goes the first day in this millennium.

Rust's deceased trainer, and his plan about 'changing the world'...

My inquisitiveness only increases ever more...

.   .   .   .   .   .

28 February 452   >> 1 day later

The hours pass by so quickly that it's the next day already.

The time is still dawn, but Rust seems eager to bring me somewhere. A basement, of some sort, leading deeper underground.

<Me>

Where are you taking me?

<Rust>

An abandoned mine. Dark Types and Poison Types' favourite spot. Watch out for any unwelcoming Pokémons.

<Me>

...why are we here again?

<Rust>

To make the wish. The mine just happened to be the direct centre of the city.

Soon enough, we have reached a dead end.

<Me>

It's... a dead end...

<Rust>

Jirachi... my first wish.

<Rust>

...create a bomb enough to destroy the entire city.

......

...huh?

A... bomb...?

<Me>

I... didn't catch that...

<Rust>

What part of 'bomb' do you not understand? I want it to be powerful enough to blow the whole fucking city up.

<Rust>

The fuse... I want it to be activated by the citizens' malice and sins, for it to...

<Me>

HOLD ON A SECOND HERE.

<Me>

YOU WANT ME TO CREATE A WEAPON OF DESTRUCTION!?

<Rust>

...put it that way if you want it.

He's... he's kidding, right? He's not actually being serious about destroying Zeroid City, right!?

Out of all wishes, that certainly comes as the most unexpected wish...

<Rust>

I'm doing this city a favour. Giving the final chance of redemption to this wicked place.

<Rust>

You see how rotten this place has gotten with your own eyes, no?

<Me>

But... but...

<Rust>

You want to see this place free of evil, don't you too? That's what I wanted as well.

<Rust>

If this place proves to be a shithole beyond saving... then what's the point of keeping it?

<Rust>

I thought a Mythical like you, of all Pokémons, will be able to understand my motive.

I... I have to say, that really hits hard...

Yet he's not exactly wrong.

All sins must be cleansed for justice to prevail. To do that, one's hands aren't necessarily clean...

Rust wants to bear that burden.

Admirably stupid.

<Me>

...I understand.

<Rust>

Thank you.

I really have to do this now, huh?

I press on the mine's wall as I close my eyes and focus my strength.

A bomb detonated by the citizens' malevolence...

Conceptualise it... shape it... mold it...

...conjure it.

<Me>

Consider yourself lucky to witness this marvel.

<Rust>

Holy shit...!

A bright light envelops the area.

As it subsides, the wall in front of us has been replaced by odd mechanism and machienery that even I don't comprehend. All connected to a pair of scales hovering before us.

<Rust>

Whou... fascinating.

<Me>

I hope this is what you wanted.

<Rust>

Heh...

An orb of white and an orb of black on each ends of the scale, representing this city's fate. A way to judge the path of the Zeroiders.

Unsurprisingly, it's tilted to the black orb. Though it still somewhat surprises me that the bomb didn't just blow up straight away.

...perhaps salvation is yet possible.

<Rust>

I'm glad to share this idea with a Mythical Pokémon, and to make it a reality...

<Me>

You're generous, to give away one wish for the sake of this city.

<Rust>

Heh, well this ends my generosity. My next wishes are gonna be more... personal.

<Rust>

Now, back to the surface...

.   .   .   .   .   .

A tedious walk later, we've returned to the entrance of the mine. The amount of people and Pokémons passing by... it's honestly worth a sight.

<Rust>

C'mon, let's go somewhere more secluded...

He drags me to the side of the main road, into another alleyway.

<Me>

Great, another alley.

<Rust>

This'll be over soon.

...I'm no psychologist, but I can clearly feel the sadness emanating from his words.

Could this be something about his... trainer?

Heh, of course. No matter what timeline I ended up staying, I'll always get to observe the potency of bond shared by a trainer and their Pokémon...

...but it's not gonna be the same. Death is eternal. The feelings won't be the same if you were to revive someone from the dead.

If anything, it just goes to show how pathetic you are, unable to let go of the past...

...who am I to say? Even Arceus doesn't get the right to judge.

<???>

AY, WATCH THE GODDAMN ROAD, IDIOTS!

A human yells at us for no apparent reason. The hell?

Oh, he's drunk.

<Rust>

Fuck off. Not the time.

<???>

Hey, you're the one that... ran into me, you fucktards... don't you dare be the one that...

<Rust>

I SAID NOT THE FUCKING TIME.

<???>

...aagh, whatever, man. Next time, watch the damn... road... don't make me whoop your ass...

The drunken man slowly walks away.

Smart of him, because the Bronzong would've killed him if he didn't.

<Rust>

Sigh. Here will do.

<Rust>

My second wish...

<Rust>

...I wish for imagination to manifest.

...what? Another unanticipated wish...

<Me>

Imagination to... manifest?

<Rust>

...you know, to tell you the truth, since the day she passed away, there's not a time when I'm not thinking about her. She was my everything. My mentor, my supporter, my commander...

<Rust>

Everyday, I wish for these thoughts to materialise... to see her again in a way I wanted it to be...

<Rust>

I don't care if it's fake, that it's false hope, a forlorn hope that I cling onto...

<Rust>

Can you do that for me?

<Me>

You can just wish for that. Why do you want something like 'imagination to manifest'?

Yeah, to wish for something that might just break the fabric of reality...

<Rust>

Isn't that obvious?

<Rust>

I don't want to face the truth. I just wanted a world, where I can see her and relive the past again.

<Rust>

And I'm sure it's not just me that wanted it.

......

...piteous. Truly pitiful.

But I guess that's exactly what makes emotions beautiful.

<Me>

Rust, to avoid destroying the reality... I'll create a whole dimension dedicated for that sole purpose.

<Me>

Separating a layer of this world to create a fantasy. You are one phenomenal wish maker to even think of that idea.

<Rust>

Thank you.

...they say imagination is powerful.

Able to produce something out of complete void, free from the shackles of the real world... in a way, it's not unlike my wish fulfilling ability.

Hence, it's no wonder that someone will cling to that power.

<Me>

Behold.

With a snap of my fingers, the space beside us cracks, showing a hole that gives access to the other dimension.

...the Imaginary.

<Rust>

Wow...

<Me>

Is this satisfactory?

<Rust>

Heh heh... yeah...

He slowly enters the crack. His face, for once, shows a hint of happiness.

<Me>

Hold on, Rust. What about your final wish?

<Rust>

Oh yeah, my final wish...

<Rust>

...erase my existence.

......

...what now...?

<Me>

...wha...?

<Rust>

To embrace imaginary, you must first cut yourself away from reality.

<Rust>

Besides...

<Rust>

...this reality is flawed, can't you see it?

Yeah...

The ??????... they are deforming...

THEY ARE... ??????????????????????????????????

<Rust>

Now now, don't think too hard about it... or you might go insane.

<Rust>

I only tell you this, because you're a Psychic Type too. You can sense it.

<Rust>

...forget about me, Jirachi. I don't exist anymore.

<Rust>

This is all... a work of fiction.

WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?

THE HOLES... THEY ARE EXPANDING...!! THEY ARE SEEPING INTO THIS REALITY...!!

IS THIS REALITY REAL?! AM I REAL!?!

THE ??????... THEY AREN'T REAL, ARE THEY!?

WHAT ABOUT ZEROID?! IS IT REAL!?

I... I CAN'T TELL...

I...

???????????????????????????????????????????

.   .   .   .   .   .

......

......

......

......

...when you can't differentiate true or false in the first place, why does it even matter?

Welcome to Zeroid.

end of transmission, 28 / 2 / 452

Back to Home Page

> Next Entry

[felassan]

“I was trying to chart out the arc of [Jack’s] romance, which for much of the development - it was actually very late that it became a male/female-only romance,” Brian Kindregan tells me. Kindregan was the lead writer for Jack. “She was essentially pansexual for most of the development of that romance.”

“Mass Effect had been pretty heavily and really unfairly criticized in the US by Fox News, which at the time... maybe more people in the world thought that there was a connection between reality and what gets discussed on Fox News,” Kindregan continues. “The development team of Mass Effect 2 was a pretty progressive, open-minded team, but I think there was a concern at pretty high levels that if [the first] Mass Effect, which only had one gay relationship, Liara - which on paper was technically not a gay relationship because she was from a mono-gendered species - I think there was a concern that if that had drawn fire, that Mass Effect 2 had to be a little bit careful.”

Interestingly enough, Courtenay Taylor - who played Jack in Mass Effect 2 - also expressed that she was originally supposed to be a pansexual character. In a recent chat, Taylor said:

“It’s funny to me because my understanding was always that she was pansexual. So I don’t know if that’s just something I inferred from the character or something that she said that maybe got cut. I was surprised there wasn’t a female romance possible because that was my understanding. I think it was the time, you know? That was, what - 2008/2009? The industry has changed exponentially since then, and BioWare was leading the charge on that. I don’t know if it came down to a budget constraint or maybe someone being like ‘this is too obvious’ because everyone was like ‘of course she’s a lesbian.’ But my sense was always that she was [pansexual] and it just didn’t get followed through. Of course, the community modded it immediately so you can have it your way.”

As Jack’s writer, Kindregan explains that he didn’t necessarily agree with the decision to change her sexuality. He understands why it happened, and says “it wasn’t like some anti-gay person high up on the Mass Effect 2 team saying, ‘we’re not going to have that’.” Instead, it had to do with the firestorm of controversy that Mass Effect had received back in 2007, and attempting to minimize the amount of critique that would be directed towards the community by outlets like Fox News again. “The short version is, a lot of us were asked pretty late to focus the relationships on a more traditional kind of vector,” Kindregan says.

“I’ve definitely heard a lot from people who were surprised that Jack turned out to not be open to that,” he continues. “I understand why. I would say that there were a lot of seeds planted in her conversations that certainly implied that she was pansexual - she once specifically references being part of a thrupple. She says there was a guy and a woman she was running with that invited her into their robberies and into their bed. She definitely references those things. That was explicitly to start sending the message that yes, this is a character who is pansexual. In the eleventh hour revision of cleaning that up, she’d already been partially recorded with voiceover. Not all of that could be changed.

“I would say even with the things I could change, and I don’t know if this was the right decision or not, I still saw her as a character with an edge,” Kindregan says. “Not edgy, but with an edge of not following traditional norms. I think I might have, even during the revision process, kept some of that stuff in there with a sense of like yeah, this is a person who’s been around and done a lot of things, went off the farm and down to Paris.”

Ultimately, though, Jack became a romance option that was exclusively available for male Shepard, despite the fact that both her writer and actor agree that she was originally supposed to be pansexual. 2010 was only three years after the infamous Fox News Mass Effect debacle, and so BioWare was reluctant to follow through on some of the ideas that were specifically put in place early in development.

[on Samara] [She] expresses that she has feelings for you but ultimately turns you down - Kindregan compares it to someone saying, sure, I’ll be with you, but I’m in love with this other person and I’ll ditch you for them if they come calling.

“I’ve worked with lesbian developers who have come up to me and said like, ‘Why is Jack not into me?’” Kindregan says. “And I have to say ‘I’m so sorry, it’s partially my fault.’ But I still stand by the thing of keeping her with a more varied background. Maybe someday Jack will be portrayed as pan.”

[source]

[galactichoneybee92]

Disorganized Thoughts on Sex Education Season 3

I binge watched the entirety of season 3 on Friday, and after sitting with it for a couple days, I have composed myself enough to offer some thoroughly disorganized thoughts on what I’ve seen. 

     While I did enjoy many things about this season, I don’t understand the people who claim it was the strongest. In fact, I believe that it was the weakest. I don’t know what exactly happened during the delay, but I swear they have to have lost staff. Writers, perhaps editors? Whoever usually reins things in a bit, keeps the show grounded, and everyone in character. Whoever had that job, they’re either gone, or they’ve just stopped giving a fuck which, while relatable, is unfortunate in regards to this show. Now what do I mean by that? Let me elaborate:

1. This season was gross. And I don’t mean in general, like I didn’t like it. No, I mean that the writers decided that being sexually explicit wasn’t funny enough and decided to add just a fuck-ton of fart jokes and toilet humor. And I get it, okay? This show prides itself on being crass. But you can be crass without being disgusting. I acknowledge that this comes entirely down to personal preference, but I can’t stand toilet humor and I feel like this season really ramped it up. Every episode was someone farting or talking about shit, or that god forsaken thrice cursed bus scene. Sex doesn’t gross me out, talk about sex all fucking day I don’t care, but I don’t need to watch an extended scene of someone digging their own shit out of a bus toilet in a sock and chucking it out the window onto someone’s car. And even just smaller things, like Aimee talking about the flour constipating her or her taking a massive shit in Jean’s toilet when she and Maureen were there. Those scenes weren’t necessary for the plot in any way, which leads me to believe they were just there because someone thought they were funny and if that’s you’re thing go off, but it most definitely isn’t mine. 

2. Ruby and Otis. And more importantly, what was the point of Ruby and Otis? Now don’t get me wrong, I like Ruby as a character and I found their relationship interesting. And I think that it would have been even more interesting if the writers had devoted more time to properly developing it- Ruby was getting better as a person but she wasn’t there yet. I liked it once Otis started standing up for himself more, and demanding respect in the relationship and as she started to actually care for him she did come to treat him more respectfully. I think with more time they could have been really good. But they didn’t get that time- she said she loved him and they didn’t even work through that fiasco before he was kissing Maeve at a gas station. Overall it had a lot of potential but the way they played it left me just sitting here like...why? Like from a narrative standpoint what was even the purpose? Because from where I’m sitting it really only served as yet another roadblock standing between Otis and Maeve and even though I shipped them like CRAZY in season 1 and 2 the constant unnecessary roadblocks are getting a little old. Which leads me to my next point...

3. Why was Maeve and Otis so unsatisfying? That’s not actually a rhetorical question, I can tell you: Because the writers put so little effort into what is supposed to be the main couple on the show. I feel like they put more effort into keeping them apart and then when it comes time to put them together they’re just kind of like NOW KISS, they only talk like once after and then they ship Maeve off to America. Now I’ve heard rumors that Emma Mackey might not want to return to the show for season 4 so if I had to guess at all of this I would say that both this point and the last was a sloppy attempt to cover their asses in the event that they can’t get her to sign back on. If she does return, they can explore the relationship between her and Otis in season 4. If she doesn’t, they’re probably going to put him back with Ruby. But they couldn’t just write her off without at least touching on the relationship they spent the past 2 seasons building, even though Otis and Maeve barely interact in this season, which is frankly another reason why it felt so shoddy. They spent exponentially more time talking to other people and then half the time when Otis was talking to her he was super cringe. 

     Overall, despite loving their relationship initially, the characters have changed so much from their original dynamic, and have interacted so little, that I really don’t even know what’s pulling these characters together. It’s disappointing to admit that I’m kind of over it but honestly even the writers don’t feel invested. it kind of feels like they put them together because the audience expected it and after 3 seasons of anticipation the payoff was generally underwhelming. 

4. Otis. Just...Otis. I understand that Otis was introduced as being a very nice helpful character in season one. He was the quintessential good guy. And then in season 2 he got to explore being a douche for a bit- which is fine. He is a teenager and he was going through some shit. But I really felt that by the end of season 2 he should have resolved that particular plot point. And he was a little better in season 3 I guess? But he didn’t really progress until the end of this season and from a writing standpoint I feel like they really dragged that out for too long. 

5. What’s with this show and it’s hard on for cheating? Like seriously, why does almost every relationship have some kind of infidelity. Like, were Otis and Ruby officially broken up when he kissed Maeve? Maeve certainly hadn’t broken up with Isaac, and this was almost directly on the heels of their very emotional sex scene. There was the issue with Jean and Jakob last season, and Eric cheating on Rahim with Adam. And then Eric (for some reason) cheating on Adam this season with random Nigerian dude whose name I can’t remember. Just...why is this a thing? 

     But also can we just talk about how weird the break up was? And out of left field? Like they literally spent the whole season developing their relationship, and then they get to Nigeria and after hiding the whole time he is subtly able to talk about Adam to his grandmother. And he sounds so proud, and so nice when he’s doing so, and not at all like he’s planning to end this wonderful relationship he’s describing. And then when he gets back, guilty after cheating on said boyfriend (like he should be) he asks Adam, seemingly as a test, if he would go out to a club with him. And Adam says no because that isn’t his scene and like...Eric knows that isn’t his scene. But at the same time, I feel like if Eric had sat him down and been like “You don’t have to wear makeup or dress outlandishly, just come to the club with me because it’s important to me” I really think Adam would have gone. And if the clothes and make-up were a dealbreaker like...why? You know who you’re dating. And while wanting him to tell his mom isn’t an overwhelmingly outrageous request, when you start getting into his physical appearance then that’s just actually trying to change him as a person and that’s just a really shitty thing to do. 

6. I promise there will be some positives in this list at some point but before that...what the fuck Eric? Like, I understand that Eric wants to get out there and explore his options, find someone more comfortable doing the things that he wants to go do. That’s realistic I guess, your high school relationships don’t work out and just because Adam came out for him he still isn’t obligated to stay in a relationship with him. But from a fictional narrative standpoint? What the fuck is this? Adam and Eric were one of the most popular ships on the show. They have been foreshadowed since season one, and had so so much effort put into developing them both as characters. Adam has come such a long way. They have brought him so far out of him comfort zone that Adam in season 3 is almost a completely different person to Adam in season 1. They spent so much of this season further developing the relationship they established last season, and for what? To break them up at the very end? WHY? 

7. Following on the heels of point 6, Aimee and Steve. They didn’t need to break up. I understand the direction the writers were taking this- Aimee wants to be single for a while to fully process her trauma and get to know her own body again. And that’s valid. I just don’t like it because I very strongly suspect that she will have a new love interest next season and that all her stuff about being single isn’t going to be shown. It will all happen off screen during whatever time skip they employ between seasons and then they’re going to use the fact that she is single to introduce a new more dramatic love interest for her since golden retriever boy Steve wasn’t interesting enough for them. Maybe that’s just me being cynical but if anyone can come out of season 3 NOT feeling a little cynical it would probably be a miracle. 

8. A positive! Finally a positive! I love the relationship between Adam and Rahim. Do I want them to date? Not particularly. I wouldn’t be mad if it happens, but I really just like them as like awkward begrudging friends. Some of my favorite scenes this season were the interactions between the two of them (Once again, the disgusting bus ride notwithstanding) I like Rahim a lot more when he isn’t interrupting my ship (which is a habit of mine. I liked Ola a lot more once she broke up with Otis) 

9. I don’t think Viv was out of character. Some people have been saying that she was, but I don’t think so. She has always been ambitious and even Jackson understand that about her in the show. And even when she was working for Hope and carrying out her rules, she was never an antagonist because she never gave up her personal morals to do it. For example, when Hope had them divided into boy and girl lines, Jackson asked her where Cal should go. She told him that boys went to the left and girls went to the right but as soon as Cal was like “Im not a boy or a girl,” Viv was immediately like, “ Oh! Right! Let me ask Hope.” She approached the situation in a way that made it clear that she recognized this issue as a legitimate problem and when she went to Hope it wasn’t framed like “This person is being an issue refusing to choose,” but instead like “We didn’t account for this possibility, that was our bad. How should we fix it?” Later on, on the class trip, Viv even lied to Hope and told her everything was fine because she didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. Viv took the opportunities presented to her, but I never interpreted it as her being an antagonist in any way. 

10. I love that Viv and Jackson remained friends, and I love that Viv has her sexy long-distance boyfriend who sexts about wheat XD Her sexting was one of my favorite scenes- well written, laugh out loud hilarious. No complaints. Sexy boyfriend was indeed very sexy and honestly, Viv absolutely deserves him. 

11. Mr. Groff better apologize to Adam next season, or at the very least have any kind of fucking conversation with his son at all or else why the fuck did I watch SO MANY scenes developing him as a sympathetic character? They could have spent that time developing ANYONE, but instead we were focused on him so like...I’m going to need some kind of payoff. Make it relevant

12. I want more bonding scenes between Adam and Maureen. I love Maureen- I love her friendship with Jean and I love how she always chooses her son over  her estranged husband (as she should) I especially love her very loving and supportive relationship with Adam, even though Adam is terrible at communication. It’s a self indulgent wish, I’d just like to see more. 

13. Isaac. I made many posts after the season 2 release, about how much I despised Isaac. Unlike Ola, I find that I didn’t have a complete change of heart but I don’t hate him AS MUCH as I did before. I still don’t like him though and while you might think “Yeah but you hate anyone who stands in the way of Otis and Maeve” no. This is historically accurate and yet, this season? Not true. For example, I don’t hate Ruby. Do I think her inclusion in the story was handled poorly in a way that made the entire plot point unnecessary? Yes I do. I also feel that way about Isaac, but less so because I feel like the relationship between him and Maeve deepening was better foreshadowed and was kind of the natural conclusion given the events of the previous season. As a character though, I still don’t really like him, and after 2 seasons of him I don’t think it has anything to do with him interfering with Maeve’s relationship with Otis- I just legitimately don’t like him. And I don’t like him with Maeve. I think the biggest irritant this season was the way that, after confessing about deleting the message he was like “yeah I fucked up but only because I like you so much, just forgive me” And then at one point I believe I remember Maeve apologizing to him for her reaction to everything. But then when he found out that she kissed Otis (admittedly a shitty thing to do) he got so mad and like, held a fucking grudge about it. And I get it, he has a right to be mad, but also boy you were the one groveling like 2 episodes ago get over yourself. They both fucked up in different ways but he acts like he has the moral high ground all the time and it gets really annoying. I don’t know, maybe I’m letting my general dislike of the character color my perception of events, but this show has managed to change my opinion on characters before but it still hasn’t made me like him so I think it’s just not going to. 

14. What the hell were they trying to do with Hope? Like legitimately, what? Because I can’t quite figure it out. And that’s mostly because I feel like they were trying to make her a nuanced and sympathetic villain, but they broke a cardinal rule- To make a villain sympathetic you must also ensure that nothing they do is inherently irredeemable. For example, principal Groff. He was a grade A dick for the past 2 seasons but I still feel that, now that we have a sympathetic backstory, if handled properly he could still come back from this. He can see the error of his ways and if he works really really hard to make amends to his family he could perhaps have his character turned around. In Hope’s case however, I would argue that they did makes her nuanced, but failed to make her sympathetic because as a character she went too far. If they had stuck to her just being a general tyrant of a headmaster - enforcing strict rules and regulations but doing so out of insurmountable pressure from her own bosses -  and then softened us towards the character by showing us her willingness to help Maeve get a scholarship, her troubled marriage, and her inability to conceive, it could have worked. The trouble is when they brought in her racism and general bigotry. Those weren’t flaws brought on by stress, those were deeply rooted character flaws that the character isn’t going to overcome because by the end of the season the character hasn’t even admitted them to herself. The issues were addressed by others, but not by Hope herself, leaving me to believe that the character herself still views them as a nonissue. I would be very surprised if she even appears in season 4 and moreso if they manage to even half-way redeem her. I’m relatively certain we won’t see her again, which makes me question the effort put into her character development. 

15. I like Jakob as a character, I don’t like him as a love interest for Jean, but I LOVE him as a father figure for Otis. It’s very conflicting because I want him to stay in Otis’s life, but I don’t like him as a romantic interest for Jean. also it’s pretty clear he isn’t Joy’s father so that’s going to be an awkward fucking conversation. If she even tells him. The way the show is going I kind of feel like she won’t, or will at least put it off for as long as possible. 

16. I want more interaction between Otis and Jean. Positive interaction, not just her being intrusive or Otis being a little bitch. I like their mother-son dynamic when they’re getting along so I just generally want more of it. 

17. Adam. Adam has become my favorite character in this show and I just generally want more of him and his relationships with others. I love his relationship with his mother but I want more if him and Emily, and him and Ola and now him and Ruby. I want to see him and Ruby discussing the Kardashians. I want him to train Madam and enter her in more competitions and just ultimately grow his social circle. Get all the love and support for god’s sake this boy needs it. 

Im sure there are plenty of things I’m forgetting and you can ask me about them if you like but for now it’s late and I’m tired. 

[shoichee]

omg cngrts on 100!!!! <3 u deserve it!!!! hii how are you??? ahaha hows genshin going for you?? also for ur milstone event, can i request kise ryota with prompt 19 or 20, i cant decide between the two, so ill leaave it to you!! <3 i hope youre doing well 💖💖💖💖

dhfiuseyghieaugh tysm ily reeeeee <33 been playing genshin nonstop to keep my sanity from my uni papers SEND HELP

Kise x Reader

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Word Count: 2851

prompt list here

Note: we need more manga Kise, i repeat, we need more asshole Kise

»»—————　☼　—————««

How could this happen? How could he, the veteran of receiving female attention, be so careless?

He only saw you as an intrigue. A challenge. Perhaps a friend at the very most.

How did this happen?

Kise slightly grits his teeth before he quickly exhales, bringing his hand to rub out the tension in his neck. His mood had not gone unnoticed by his fans around him.

Ah, shit.

“Ryōta!” one called out, her tone dripped in saccharine. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you been pushing yourself lately?” another one chimes in.

“I can come with you to the infirmary… surely you’d have trouble!—”

“Move—I asked first!”

“H-hey! Quit being so snappy—!”

“Stop.”

He instinctively sends a glare at the mob out of irritation but then stops himself to quickly etch a sweet smile of his own for them. No matter how much he hears these words of concern, he hears nothing but empty wind. Hanging around girls was supposed to be a fun pastime. A challenge. Nowadays, his mind doesn’t bother to register any of their names, their faces. All their voices that come out of their mouth have become constantly replayed recaps; their chatters have become equivalent to those of flocking pigeons. “Don’t worry, everyone! Basketball practice has just been tough, is all. You’re all so kind to worry for my health, though! Thank you!”

Squeals rang throughout the courtyard as they hung onto his every word. Predictable.

As he firmly separates himself away from the group and leaves off with a cheerful facade, he quickly turns around to make a break with a brisk walk. Where to, exactly? He doesn’t know, but anywhere that didn’t have people around would be godsend.

His mind always returns back to you. You, who he thought would be the cure to his social life, just as Aomine and Kuroko were to his life of sports. You, who respected his personal space. You, whom he had meaningful conversations with during breaks sometimes. You, who he felt like he can drop his facades around recently and just entirely be himself.

As cruel as it was, he once challenged himself to make you fall for him. A sick, twisted game that would cure his boredom and give him something to look forward to other than practice. Something to keep him on his toes throughout the beginning of high school. You, who wasn’t honestly that special, other than the fact you treated him differently, unlike other people. Hell, even the adults are wrapped around his finger. What’s not making you fall head over heels for him? His curiosity continues to grow exponentially the more he spends time with you; never once did it get satiated.

Was it his ego that you bruised up? Was it his competitiveness kicking in at the thought of experiencing a type of “defeat?” Was it the unsaid uncertainty in his heart that is currently panicking of the thought of entering a whole new territory with new emotions and thoughts?

There is nothing special about you. You were only a challenge. There is nothing special about you. Once he figures you out, your game, you would just be like everyone els—

“Ow!”

“Ah, sorry! My bad, my bad! Are you alright? I’ve been a tad dizzy lately, here let me help you, oh…” As he rambles in a slight fluster, he immediately jumps back into his chivalrous side, immediately clasping a hand to help them up. Expecting to see another faceless individual, his eyes widened when his mind registered a pair of eyes staring inquisitively at him. Your eyes.

“Are you the same Ryōta I know?” you stifle a laugh. “Since when were you so quick to ever help me out without complaining my ear off?” When they say his first name, it has always sounded off, sickening even. He still could not comprehend why he, despite hating the sound of his first name rolling off of people’s tongues, insisted on you using his first name. Strangely, whenever you call him out so sincerely, he couldn’t help but always jerk back in genuine surprise at how… nice it felt.

He only let you use his first name to force a sense of closeness. This was only to accelerate the forming of a bond between the two of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing more than a challenge. Nothing more than an asset to accomplish it.

But every time he has had these thoughts lately, his heart spiked with painful palpitations.

How did this happen?

His swirling thoughts halt when he feels your hand against his forehead. “You said you were dizzy earlier, right?” you said worriedly. “You don’t seem sick… have you been eating properly?”

You were tippy-toeing to try to reach his height, one hand grasping his shoulder for support while the other was feeling his temperature. And oh, you were so close.

This was a game you were playing, too, right? You must’ve known this entanglement was all just a challenge and you wanted to play along for the fun of it, right? But these thoughts quickly cease as you separate yourself from him to give him the usual physical distance.

What sort of game were you playing? Tug-of-war? Cat-and-mouse chase? Two can play at that game.

“Hey…” he looms over your figure, leaning closer to your face. “Maybe you’re the one making me dizzy, after all?” His sharp eyes search for any subtle signs you give off: your facial expressions, body language, your reactions.

“What?” Your eyes widen at his abrupt advance, worried eyes quickly turning into one of confusion as you scan Kise’s face for any other subtle signs of his own.

There was no way you could have good intentions. There was no way you could have genuine concern for him. There was no way you would be hanging around with him, unless you had some ulterior motives of your own.

After all, he chose to get to know you for the most selfish reason. How could he ever bring himself to tell you that this precarious friendship you two shared was built on the premise of deceit on his end?

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to see your reaction.” And with that, he ruffles your hair playfully before he continues to walk to his intended destination of the school infirmary.

“You’re definitely sick!” you call out, rushing to catch up to him. “You’re acting really strange!...” Your voice—he wishes he could tune it out just as easily as the rest, but you were right… he was acting strange. He couldn’t believe he can distinguish your features from amidst a sea of people. Your voice amidst a clutter of noises. Your warmth amidst all the sunlight, clothing, and body heat he’s ever felt. The same warmth encapsulating his own hand.

What sort of game were you playing?

“Here! Follow me,” you said, tugging his hand forward as you take the initiative to lead him. “If you’re sick, you shouldn’t be walking around alone. What if you collapse?”

What sort of game were you playing?... Was having the most scrunched-up brows and worried eyes part of the rules? He tightens his lips into a thin line at the sensation of his heartbeats again.

As you tug along his hand and lead him down the hallway, his mind drifts to the moments you two have shared for the past few weeks. When you bumped into him and succinctly apologized before excusing yourself… when he approached you constantly every chance he got during breaks to figure you out… when he saw you efficiently defending yourself against his dedicated fans… when you first approached him after he exited the lockers to congratulate him on a home game win before you turned to Kasamatsu to talk of club affairs with the council… when he first heard you actively cheering his name on the stands… when you inopportunely saw him weeping about Kaijo’s loss at the Winter Cup and successfully comforted him…

With each progression in his thoughts, his hand suddenly feels warmer against yours, his heart rate thumping faster, his eyes growing more out of focus as he gazes at your back, and then your intertwined hands. Maybe he really is sick.

“Are you alright?” you asked, turning to face him as you both keep walking. “We’re just about here.”

He says nothing as he keeps his face straight ahead. He doesn't trust himself to keep it together after that slipup with his fans; messing up in front of you would be certainly disastrous.

“Is there anyone here?” you softly called out, tentatively sliding the doors open. There was no one, but they were probably on a lunch break before coming back soon. He hears you sigh before you tug him in completely into the room. “Sit here, and I’ll look for some ice packs, at least… I don’t know if that would work, though…”

As you let go of his hand to try to rummage through the drawers, his hand instinctively holds you tighter.

Shit.

“Ryōta?...” you said. “Do you wanna lay down instead, I’ll look for something for you to—”

“... (y/n)-cchi, stay here.”

Shit. Kasamatsu was right: he needs to learn how to shut his godamn mouth.

“Ryōta,” you shyly mumble. “That was the first time you addressed me with -cchi at the end. Don’t you only use it with your old teammates?”

Shit… shit, shit, shit.

He can’t slip up, and he’s fucking up three times in a row? He’s losing his edge. There’s no way he’ll lose now… not when he’s come so far.

“... Do you know what you’re doing?” he exhales, dropping your hand to run his hands through his locks. “You’re driving me insane…”

“Me?”

“What games are you playing here, I swear to god—there’s no reason for you to care this much for me like this—”

“I do have a reason,” you replied, averting your eyes to feign looking for those ice packs. There you go again, acting coy… that’s what he chants to himself anyways.

“Wha?~ You’re keeping secrets from your friend, already?” he coos, trying to gain back the momentum. Yes, that’s right…you are only considered a friend. “It’s kind of cruel to bring it up but then decide to not divulge them, y’know?”

“It doesn’t take much human decency to worry and care for another,” you smile. “Even more so for a friend.”

You finally turn away to continue hunting for anything useful in the cabinets, while Kise silently watches you from his chair. Silence settles between the two of you.

“Y’know… I’ve been thinking,” you start, handing him a glass of water, a wet towel, and ice packs. “I don’t want for us… to be friends anymore.”

It took his entire self control to not jump from his chair to grab you and interrogate you into oblivion. But why? Did you realize his true intentions? Did you hate his guts after all? Did you accomplish your own objectives and deem this friendship no longer useful?

Why does he even care about any of this?

“You’re… joking, right?”

He really expected for you to burst into laughter and call it a prank or tease him about his unfiltered reaction at your words, but your eyes have now become determined and very serious.

You weren’t joking.

“Ryōta, I’ll just get this out of the way first things first, but I know that you only see me as some type of trophy to go after… for a while now.”

How did this happen?

“It’s just the way you look at me sometimes seems off,” you said. “It’s not obvious to others, but we’ve spent almost every day with each other for a while, so I’ve kinda noticed… Honestly, that only solidified my initial impressions of you being a complete asshole.”

Why does his heart feel like it’s going to shatter?

“But…” you continued. “Recently, you were just… different. You were still stupid, sure. But you’ve laughed so much more and supported me when I needed it most. I’ve never laughed this hard until I met you—you make me wheeze out the ugliest laughs, as I’m ashamed to admit. But I want to be able to support you too… like, it feels that this whole thing you’re trying to put up when you meet with other people… it must be exhausting, right? I know you first acted that way with me. I can understand and kind of relate to that, so you can always talk to me alone if you need an ear.”

“Why are you telling me that you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Kise flatly asks. “You’re clearly correct about everything about me. You could’ve just left a long while ago. Did you have to pretend to care, too? Go ahead, aren’t you going to gossip about this to everyone?”

“What? No! I’m not done talking yet, idiot! I wasn’t pretending anything! Can you just stop projecting yourself onto me and listen up? Even though you’re such an asshole sometimes, er—all the time, the time we spent together has grown to be genuine, and I know you felt it too!... so well, I know you’ve heard these words so many times from other people, but…

I like you. That’s why I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. But I know you don’t reciprocate these back, so I just wanna tell you to get it off my chest… that’s all.”

He is absolutely stunned.

You’ve confessed to him, didn’t you? He got what he wanted. He won his little challenge. But why doesn’t he feel the adrenaline, the excitement, of it all like he normally would? His heart beated painfully erratically like how his team suffered a bittersweet loss at the games. Especially when you turned away to leave after you gauged his silence as rejection.

“(y/n)-cchi! W-wait!” He fumbles to grab for the warmth of your hand again. “You just confessed, right? Don’t you have to hear what I say?”

You simply shrug in response, but nonetheless, you turned back around to face him and await his response.

What you didn’t expect though was for him to pull you into a tight embrace and put his head on your shoulder. He pours his innermost thoughts and his emotions out, your shoulder slightly muffling his words, but you still understand everything he had spilled. He finally apologizes for everything he’s done, reassuring you that you don’t have to forgive him, though you kept telling him that it wasn’t that big of a deal. He finally breaks away from you and hangs his head low and exhales. He finally lifts his head to make eye contact with you. His eyes burn with intensity and the usual confidence he bears, although you note the tinge of nervousness behind his pupils.

How did this happen? How did he ever grow so attached to you? And since when did he grow mature enough to concede his defeat?

“I think I’m in love with you…” His words trail off, and his confidence disintegrates away when he realizes that he is no longer the receiving end of a confession.

… and that scares… the crap out of me.”

“You think you’re in love with me?” You stare at him incredulously. Kise squirms uncomfortably under your scrutiny. He’ll admit it, it was the lamest reply anyone could’ve given. You honestly deserved better.

His thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly guffawed and slapped your hands to your mouth to try to stifle your hysteria.

“Hey! I spilled my entire heart to you, don’t just laugh… damnit, hey! It’s not that funny!...” he protests, but after unsuccessfully trying to get you to stop snickering, he sulks back into his chair and huffs with the reddest face.

“Ah… A+ for honesty, at least,” you breathed out. “I thought you were gonna be eloquent about this, since you’re used to this sorta stuff and all…”

“Shut it.”

Kise buries his head into his hands, but you gently pry them off in an attempt to see his embarrassed state.

“Were you really actually sick, though?~”

“Shut uuuup, alreadyyy.”

“I inherited this personality from you, y’know.”

Huh, it seems that you really do know how to be coy, after all.

“Can you two please see yourselves out? The infirmary is not a place to hold your secret rendezvous, especially with this inappropriate behavior.”

“(y/n)-cchi, run!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

In a hurry, Kise grabs hold of your hand and makes a break out the door, dragging you behind with the school nurse trailing far behind. Even if he suffered a loss once again, he still won the complete monopoly of you and your genuine care and warmth for him.

Was it really a loss, though? He doesn’t think much of it now that his head feels clear when he shares these moments with you.

He supposes he misjudged you when you were truly special after all. Déjà vu just hits him like a truck when he fondly thinks about his ex-mentor Kuroko, and how similar you are to him.

[actress4him]

ahhh I'm so excited for the whump bingo series! can you do pidge in either 'caught in a snare' or in 'clawing at own throat'? ^^

This one...fought with me. I knew right away what kind of trap I wanted to use once I saw it online, but I had a hard time figuring out what scenario exactly to use that made sense and wouldn’t be too long or too short. But here it is, I finished it, and I hope it’s to your liking, Anon!

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Caught in a Snare

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: near drowning, death mention

.

.

“I hate the outdoors.”

“Yeah,” Lance replies drily. “You mentioned that. A few times.”

Growling, Pidge kicks at a piece of rotting wood in her path. “It’s getting more and more true by the minute.”

The trek continues in silence for a minute, though she hardly notices the lack of conversation for all the rustling and tweeting and whatever other disgusting natural noises are going on around them and all of the furious thoughts pouring through her head. That is, until Lance decides to speak up again and say,

“You know you’re supposed to be like, the Guardian of Nature, right?”

“Shut up, Lance, I literally never asked for that title!” she hisses, narrowing her eyes at him briefly before returning her gaze to the path. Her luck, she’d end up tripping over something. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love Green, but I’m much more into the curiosity and technology part, not the nature part.”

Silence again. “For what it’s worth,” he offers after a minute, “I’m not enjoying the situation, either.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’d be concerned if you were.” After all, when the two of them had agreed to come here to look for some rare fruit Allura and Coran wanted to trade with another potential Coalition planet, having all of their electronic devices - including Green - fail them so that they had to hike through the freakin’ jungle was not exactly part of the plan.

Her head and ribs still hurt from the rough landing. Nothing broken, thankfully, but she’s pretty sure she’s got some nice looking bruises. So, sue her if she’s a little grumpy. She feels she has the right.

And what jungle is cold, anyway? Not cold enough that she needs to keep her helmet sealed, but much colder than a jungle should be.

Space is so weird.

“Hey, I think I hear water over there.” Lance points somewhere to their right, through the endless trees. “If it’s a river or a creek we should try following it.”

Sighing, Pidge nods. It’s a good idea, and she’s not sure she would have thought of it. Wilderness survival isn’t really her forte. “Yeah, okay. Maybe luck will be on our side for once today and we can get a drink, too. I’ve still got that tester thing Coran gave me to see if it’s safe.”

“A drink sounds amazing right about now.”

There is a river, a rather large one at that, and it doesn’t take them long to find it. The vibrant turquoise color is a little off-putting, as is the steep embankment, but Pidge is determined to test it anyway and try to get them that drink they’re both craving.

“Over here, I see a path down.” She heads out in front of Lance, picking her way through the underbrush to a spot where it’s slightly less overgrown. Likely either animals or locals have been using the spot to get their own drinks from the river.

“Don’t fall!” Lance calls good-naturedly from a few yards behind.

Pidge is just about to throw a snarky response over her shoulder when something latches onto her ankle and her feet are suddenly yanked out from underneath her. Her already sore body slams backwards onto the ground. Vaguely she can hear Lance cackling at her, but she doesn’t have time to focus on it.

There’s some kind of twine wrapped around her ankle, and there’s a boulder tumbling down the embankment next to her toward the water, and somehow the two are connected and she’s being dragged swiftly down the hill with them.

It all happens in a matter of seconds. She throws her hands out, grasping at plants and roots and anything else she can find, but all she ends up with is a fistful of purple leaves and a ripped glove.

Right before she reaches the water Lance’s laughter turns into yelling. Then the boulder hits the surface with a loud splash, and she follows right behind it. It’s like being plunged into an ice bath. Automatically her mouth opens to gasp from the cold, but she stops herself just short of actually inhaling.

The river is deeper than it looked from above. The rock is still sinking, and it’s still pulling her with it. Down, down, where the water becomes less turquoise and more murky grey. Pidge fights against it, tries to swim upward, back to the surface, but the rock is far heavier than she is. Even when she kicks on her jet pack, it just sputters and barely halts the downward progress. There’s no way she’s going to be able to tug the rock back up with her.

Looking down, she can just barely see the twine where it wraps around her ankle and disappears into the darkness. If she can’t swim back up with that attached, then obviously she’s going to have to get rid of it.

Her lungs are already starting to ache.

Releasing a few bubbles, she bends over and pulls at the twine, but it’s so tight it would be cutting into her ankle if not for her armor. She can’t get even a fingernail underneath it.

A muted splash echoes through the water, and she lets a little bit more air out when she looks up to see Lance diving swiftly toward her. His eyes are wide behind his sealed faceplate. Pidge gives a pointed tug on the twine, and he nods, swimming with practiced ease down to her feet. Grabbing it with both hands, he attempts to break it, then moves up to her foot and finds out the same thing she did, it’s too tight to slip off.

There’s not much air left in her lungs, and most of what’s there slips past her lips without her permission. Her chest is beginning to burn.

Lance is making weird motions at her with his hands, but she’s having a hard time focusing on them past the black dots dancing in front of her eyes. Those are...probably not a good sign.

Finally he swims back up next to her, patting her hip as he leans in close to her ear. “Bayard!” she barely makes out.

Oh. Yeah. She’s gonna blame the lack of oxygen for not thinking of that herself.

She can barely see anymore, but she summons her bayard to her hand and attempts to lean down toward her foot. At this point she’s gonna be lucky if she doesn’t slice her leg off accidentally. But then Lance’s hands are wrapping around hers, and he’s guiding her downwards. Just before the black spots completely take over and her body goes limp, she feels the tension on her ankle release.

The next thing she’s aware of is lying on her side in a patch of dirt, coughing violently and spitting out gross river water while something slaps her on the back. She only realizes that the something is probably Lance’s hand when he leans over into her face.

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought I was gonna have to do rescue breaths and put my lips on your lips and I just -”

“Lance, please.” She coughs again, and wonders briefly if maybe she swallowed some seaweed or a fish or something because it feels like there’s one stuck in her chest somewhere. “I’m trying...not to throw up right now. I don’t...don’t need that visual.”

“Yeah. Same.” He falls back onto his butt, staring at her with traces of fear still on his face. “I would have done it, though, to, you know...save you. That, uh...really scared me. I barely got it cut before you passed out and the bayard went back to neutral and then you were like, dead...well, not actually dead, obviously, but you looked dead and then you weren’t breathing and I -”

“Lance.” Another cough, and a shiver racks her body. “Thank you.”

He screeches to a halt, then relaxes into a smile. “You’re welcome. Sorry I, uh...kinda laughed at you. I thought you had fallen down right after I said ‘don’t fall down’, and...yeah.”

The shivers are getting worse now. “Technically I...did. Just...not my fault.”

Lance’s smile morphs into a frown. “We’ve gotta get you dried off and warmed up somehow.”

Finally gathering her energy, Pidge pushes herself up to sit, wrapping her arms around her body as if it’ll somehow help dispel the ice that has taken over. “N-not sure how that’s...gonna happen...in the middle of the...quizn-nacking jungle.”

Glancing back over his shoulder as if a solution will magically appear - and well, they are in space, stranger things have happened - Lance sighs and moves to stand up. “Maybe we should keep moving. That might help you warm up, and eventually we have to run into some civilization, right? Coran said there were sentient aliens on this planet.”

“Yeah, and s-somebody had to have set up th-that trap.” Moving is the last thing she wants to do right now. Her headache from before has multiplied exponentially in strength, and her ribs did not appreciate all the coughing she just did. She wants to curl back up on the ground and not move again for a century or two. But she allows Lance to throw her arm over his shoulder and pull her up to her feet, even if she groans dramatically in the process.

“Well, I think we should just keep following this river - not quite so closely this time - and see wh-”

This time he cuts off without an interruption from Pidge, and she looks up to see what he’s staring at. It’s aliens. A whole pack of them, bipedal and four-armed in multiple shades of green fur that almost blends in with the trees, and they’re armed with spears and axes.

They’re probably the ones that set the snare, and now they’ve come to see what they caught. Which, unfortunately, is them.

“Uh, hi guys,” Lance squeaks. “We’re, um. We’re the Paladins of Voltron. Any chance you’ve heard of us?”

This sets off an immediate wave of whispers through the group. The alien in front straightens from their defensive position and steps forward. “Voltron? The rumors are true, then? Voltron lives?”

Pidge can feel the tension leave Lance’s body. “Yes! Yes, Voltron has returned! We came here in one of the Voltron Lions to look for supplies, but something on your planet has interfered with our devices. We need help to contact our team and to find what we’re looking for.” He glances over at Pidge, whose teeth are clenched tightly to keep them from clacking together. “And she needs to get warm before she gets sick.”

The lead alien turns to have a whispered consultation with the others before nodding at Lance. “Very well. Follow us, and we will assist you.”

Another removes their heavy-looking cape and approaches carefully, draping it around Pidge’s shoulders. Immediately she melts into the warmth. “There will be a fire waiting for us in the village.”

“S-sounds great,” she manages.

Lance smiles, pulling her in a bit tighter. “Thank you.”

——————————

Instructions for requesting a square here!

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 2

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sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

☘  genre | angst, exes au

☘  summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

☘  word count | 5.6k

☘  rating | PG-13

☘  warnings | none

☘  a/n | ngl this update is coming later than i intended 🙈🙈 life has been pretty demanding on me lately butttt here we go!! chapter 2 😌 as always, thank you all you lovelies for reading, and let me know what you think 💕

The blare of the alarm pierces straight through the pleasantry of slumber and has you fumbling blindly for your phone. It’s right there on the bedside table. You refuse to open your eyes to the morning light that streams into your apartment. Finally, your searching hand finds the coolness of the device that's vibrating away angrily where it sits. Within a few attempts, swiping with your eyes still stubbornly closed, you get it to shut up. Rolling over, you snuggle further down under the covers, basking in the cozy warmth.

Beep. Beep.

Of course the moment of peace is not meant to last. The five-minute snooze duration on your alarm provides but a temporary respite. You groan.

But you kick the covers off, letting the cold morning air be what shocks you into alertness. Remaining in bed is really tempting, sure.

Thank god you love your job enough to overcome the daily inertia of getting up.

You shiver a little as your bare feet hit the chilly floor. Pulling the oversized shirt that is your staple sleepwear closer to you in an attempt to retain some body heat, the thought of purchasing a fluffy robe is beginning to look less and less impulsive and more and more justifiable as a necessity. With the lack of said fluffy robe, you rush to the bathroom in search of the comfort that's found in standing under the warm spray of the shower.

Your daily morning shower always gets you sufficiently awake, or enough for you to at least be in the right state of mind to make your cup of coffee that will wake you up entirely. The coffee machine had been a splurge at the time of purchase. But it’s established itself well enough within your morning routine to be considered an investment at this point. Sipping your coffee- with cream and no sugar- in between your daily make-up routine has your insides all toasty and warm.

The hot beverage exponentially increases in importance on rainy mornings like these. It’s nothing too drastic, just a light drizzle. But it makes the concrete jungle that you live in feel extra cold, and in more ways than just in temperature. The lack of lush greenery and the stiff silence of the people rushing about to get on with their hectic daily lives often leaves the city atmosphere feeling gray and dreary.

But you can’t complain.

Not when you’re one of the exceptional cases that gets to do what you truly love. In fact, being surrounded by the robotic throngs that drag themselves to the towering skyscrapers that house these big fancy corporations of blah only makes you even more aware that what you have is something coveted.

Working as a museum curator definitely wasn’t your childhood dream. But your college days had awakened the deep passion for art history that had laid dormant in you for years.

And now, here you are. Living in the big city and working for a prestigious museum. Who would have imagined that small-town you would have achieved all of this?

You absolutely love it. This little space in the world you’ve carved out is yours. You’re chasing after your own dream and living out your passion.

Maybe that’s one thing you should be thankful for from the breakup. Being thrust into singleness had left you helplessly untethered at first what with the abrupt upheaval of all the plans you’d initially laid out.

But perhaps it was what you needed. You needed to be an individual. You needed to know what that individuality meant. And your self-exploration, free from just chasing his shadow, brought you to discover your interest in curatorial work.

Which, in turn, brought you to the city.

The very same city that the breakup had happened in.

The fates truly have a sense of humor, pulling you back to the place which was once the site of heartbreak and tragedy, but is now the launchpad for your ambitions and self-actualization.

Or, much more plausibly, it was not the fates but a matter of practicality and statistics. It’s a big city, housing multiple big-name museums. It’s only natural that the city would become the base for you to build up your career once you completed your post-grad studies.

Once upon a time, when things were still a little too raw, you’d sworn off this place entirely. The city was simply too filled with memories, both good and bad, of him.

But that line of thought simply couldn’t hold up for too long. After all, by that same logic, your own hometown would have had to be boycotted as well.

Through your extended reverie, your hands- well-seasoned to the movements they execute daily- had finished your simple make-up routine. One final spritz of setting spray, and you release your now damp hair from where it sat bundled in the towel atop your head. As you absentmindedly blow dry your hair, your thoughts wander off on their own once again.

Your decision to move out to the city was one that was made in full knowledge that Namjoon was still here. This city is not affectionately termed the city of dreams for nothing. As an aspiring writer and a boy with a city soul, it was the most natural progression of events that he chose to remain in the city after graduating from college. Living in the city made it convenient for him to meet up with his editor and publishing company.

Or so you’ve heard from Hoseok. It’s been years since your break up and neither of you have reached out to close that awkward distance that rifted between you. Anyway, when you were moving out here, you figured that in a city as big as this with such a dense population, there’s little chance that you’ll actually bump into him.

Okay. You apologize to whatever deity it is out there for your earlier dismissal of the fates. Now that you think about it, they truly exist, and boy do they have a sense of humor.

Who would think that even in a city as large as yours, you’d still manage to run into him? And not just once, but a number of times now.

The first time, it was in a diner just two streets down from the museum that you had planned to go to for lunch. That is, until you spotted him through the window, chatting with a companion, his tanned skin and dimpled smile the same as always. Suffice to say, your lunch plans changed.

Then on a quiet afternoon in the museum, your little workplace trio had slipped out together for a coffee break under Yeri’s insistence. Apparently, the new cafe down the road served an oat milk latte that was to die for, or at least good enough to drag you and Soo-eun out for.

Turns out the cafe’s reputation had reached Namjoon’s ears too, because there he was, seated by the window with a mess of papers filled with his scrawly handwriting. The choice of seating was so… Joon. He’d always justified his fascination with people-watching by claiming it to be an essential part of his creative process.

Thankfully, this creative process seemed to be going well for him and took his full attention, allowing you to slip into the cafe unnoticed. A true feat, really, considering how animated Yeri gets when she’s chatty. With your oat milk latte in hand- also this damn drink better be so good it brings you to your knees on the first sip given the things you’ve had to endure to obtain it- you’re ready to make your swift escape from this risky situation.

As Soo-eun pushes the door open, you steal a leftwards glance. Your heart stills for a second. A pair of familiar, striking eyes is trained on you, and they widen just a fraction upon being caught. You can feel your own features making their own reflex reaction as the shock runs electric through you.

The awkward eye contact is forcibly broken as you follow after your friends, refusing to acknowledge the moment the two of you just shared. That was all it was- a moment- but it felt like time came to a standstill the moment your eyes met.

This freezing of time seems to be recurrent in your run-ins with Namjoon. The next time you see him is when you’re riding the subway home. Your pubescent years had seen Namjoon shooting up in height. You can’t forget the countless times he’d had to stoop down for you so you could press a chaste goodbye kiss to his cheek. What an inconvenience it’d been.

But what a convenience it is in this scenario. His head, though bent over a book, towers over the rush hour crowd squeezed into the carriage. With his height, you’d spotted his presence within mere seconds of him boarding the train.

The shock that had jolted through you had you dropping your eye gaze and ducking your head, letting your hair fall as a shield to conceal you. And it was a pretty effective one, as your surreptitious monitoring revealed that he was none the wiser to your presence.

However your next challenge comes when it’s your stop next and he’s standing right by the exit. As the train pulls into the station, you pray hard that he returns to his book and remains sufficiently engrossed in it for you to make your escape. Keeping your gaze on the ground, you worm your way around the crowd, mumbling out ‘pardon me’s.

Perhaps that was your downfall, was what alerted him to your presence. You’re stepping out of the carriage and so close to sweet, sweet relief.

But something brushes your arm just as you’re passing by him- a hand maybe? Your breath catches. Time halts. You steel your nerves. Ignore it. Just keep walking.

As the whirring of the blow dryer switches off, so does your unrestrained recalling come to an end. Downing the last of your coffee- now barely warm- you bring it to the kitchen to wash away the dredges the same way you wash away the thoughts of Namjoon.

"One more week, everyone!" Yeri cheers, as she turns her chair, swapping her cushy flats out for some black heels. That can only mean one thing- she’s headed for a night out.

"Have fun, Yeri," you say.

"Fun? What is that? At this point in our timeline, all I know is the hustle, babe."

You glance meaningfully at her shoes.

"Happy hour drinks with one of our patrons so I can secure the loan on this piece that you listed as absolutely essential," she explains in response to your pointed look.

"Ok, ok. Go work your magic."

She smirks. "That’s right, trust me to be your resident miracle worker."

"Just make sure it comes on time, please. The exhibition spatial plotting on this one looks intense," Soo-eun pipes up quietly.

"Hey, where’s the vote of confidence in our heavenly trio?" Yeri says.

"I mean, we’re good at what we do, but exhibition design never gets any less stressful."

"Don’t worry, Soo-eun, we’ll deliver an excellent exhibition as per usual," you say, instilling in them the confidence that you genuinely feel when working with this team. "With Yeri’s charisma in securing the loans on the pieces we need, coupled with your eye in exhibition design, it’ll be great as per usual."

Ever since that first exhibition you’d all been thrown together for, the synergy between the three of you was undeniable, both to yourselves and to your other coworkers who were mere witnesses of it.

"And not forgetting your taste in selection of pieces too, ____. See, there’s the vote of confidence I was looking for," Yeri says. She applies a fresh coat of her merlot red lipstick and inspects her appearance in her compact mirror. Deeming herself presentable, she gets up from her desk, handbag casually and stylishly slung on her forearm. "Ok, I’m off. TGIF, everyone! Don’t stay too late working on those descriptions, ____."

You hum in response, your eyes glued to said descriptions that were only half-written at this point. Maybe a weekend working overtime is in order.

"Oh! Don’t forget, we’ve got brunch with Dong-In tomorrow. He really enjoyed your company the last time," Yeri says, as if she read your mind. There goes your overtime plans for the weekend that you were mentally pencilling in.

"Right. You make sure that you don’t get too wasted and miss brunch tomorrow."

"Hey, it’s a strictly professional drinking session tonight."

"Mmhm, but I’m sure you’ll find a group of friends for drinks after the meeting. When have you ever missed a night out on the town on a Friday?"

"Touche."

You smirk when she concedes. You love Yeri with all your being, but she’s a party girl at heart and you know her well. "Text me when you’re up tomorrow."

"Will do, babe. I’ve really got to run now or I’ll be late and lose you your art piece."

"All the best, Yeri!" Soo-eun calls after her.

"Thanks, and all the best, Yeri!" you echo.

Sinking back in the plush of your desk chair, you return to the write-ups and sigh.

"Just one more week, ____. Like you said, we’ve got this," Soo-eun encourages.

The next day begins much like the previous, with you fumbling for your alarm in your sleep-addled state and groaning when the five minute snooze duration passes way quicker than what five minutes feels like.

You go through your usual morning routine- shower, coffee, make-up, hair- but can afford to chill out with nowhere to rush to. Weekend mornings are to be savored for their unhurried pace. Getting up is a pain, but you relish the quiet, unbroken serenity of the mornings enough to haul yourself out of bed, even if you don’t have work to head out for.

To be frank, you’re enjoying the peacefulness of your morning so immensely that when 10am rolls around and there’s still no sign from Yeri that she’s awake- you’ve done your due diligence, you’ve dropped her at least five texts and multiple calls to check if she’s alive- the temptation to just ditch your brunch plans grows harder to fight.

Well technically, it’s Yeri’s brunch plans… So if she doesn’t wake up for them then it’s not really your fault, is it?

Dialling her number one last time brings you to her voicemail- Hey, it’s Yeri! If you’re hearing this, it either means I’m busy, asleep, or ignoring you. Just leave your message after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Unless I’m ignoring you, in which case, … *beep*- and you smile as you find your scapegoat.

[10.07am] ____: hey dong in, mornnn, i don’t think yeri’s awake

[10.07am] ____: soooo i don’t think she’ll be making it to brunch at this rate

[10.08am] ____: should we take a rain check on this?

Your phone buzzes a little while later.

[10.11am] Dong-In: oh damn, ok then.

[10.13am] Dong-In: catch you another time?

You know that you should feel bad, but you can’t help the joy that washes through you at the prospect of being able to just stay home. Homebody tendencies die hard. Being conscious not to sound too happy, you type a reply quickly, letting Dong-In know you’ll check with Yeri when she’s free next.

The sudden freeing up of your day has you giddy with excitement. With your hair up in a bun and hitting play on your favorite Broadway musicals spotify playlist, you set about tidying your apartment as you sing to yourself. The mess in your apartment has been steadily accumulating in your neglect as a result of the busy schedules at work. But it’s gotten to a point where even you can’t stand it. And more importantly, Hoseok, with his particularity on cleanliness, is coming to visit next week.

When your apartment’s sufficiently clean, you make breakfast with whatever leftovers you can muster from your depleting food supplies. Consuming your pathetically pulled together breakfast omelette that consists of the last egg in the fridge and an overripe, almost-mush tomato cements the next item on your agenda. It’s time to go grocery shopping.

You’re midway to the grocery store when your phone buzzes in your pocket in quick succession as if provoked.

[12.18pm] Yeri: BINCH did you not go to brunch??

[12.18pm] Yeri: duDE

[12.18pm] Yeri: !!!!!!!!

[12.18pm] Yeri: ____ i s2g

[12.18pm] ____: well good morning to you too

[12.19pm] ____: you were dead to the world

[12.19pm] ____: i called you at least eight times and dropped you multiple texts

[12.19pm] ____: why are you coming at me this way huh

[12.19pm] ____: anyway i told dong in to postpone

[12.19pm] Yeri: ok oK too much shouting for this hungover bij

[12.19pm] ____: yeri it’s all over text…

[12.20pm] Yeri: typing in caps makes it shout in my head alrite

Yeri’s drama queen antics are truly one of a kind. It has you rolling your eyes, but you smile. Well now that she’s awake, you figured lunch and a hangout could substitute for your cancelled brunch plans. And of course, hungover Yeri is always in need of tender loving care. Your grocery shopping plans can always wait.

[12.20pm] ____: anyway your personal postmates is on its way to you so ‘hungover bij’ had better be grateful

[12.20pm] ____: see you in 20

[12.20pm] Yeri: ok i take it all back I LOVE YOU YOU’RE THE BEST

You get to Yeri’s place and it’s unexpected but not surprising that Soo-eun’s the one who opens the door to let you in. It makes sense, a weekend hangout would simply be incomplete without her. Plus, the task of nursing your hungover friend is not something to be taken on alone.

"Soo-eun!" You wrap an arm around her in greeting, which she returns.

"Hey, ____," she responds. "Yeri’s in the shower but she should be out soon."

"How bad is it?" you ask, releasing her and heading to the kitchen.

Soo-eun trails after you. "It’s been worse. And food will make her hangover better."

"It’s a good thing you’re here. We need your voice of reason to mediate the dumbass squabbles hungover Yeri and my impatient ass will undoubtedly get into."

Soo-eun simply laughs at your antics, shaking her head. She's well-accustomed to her role as peacemaker by now.

Another voice rings through the kitchen area where you stand with Soo-eun. "Wow, the disrespect! Breaking and entering into my house to gossip about me?"

Yeri enters, her usual bouncy ringlets now hang limp and wet, creating a damp spot over her chest where it sticks to her oversized t-shirt. In contrast to her usual self, hungover Yeri forgoes style for comfort.

"Case in point," you say. Before Yeri can bite back a response, you interject with a raise of the takeout bag in your hand.

"Hmph. I will forgive you this time. But only because you come bearing peace offerings."

"Only because you think with your stomach, you mean."

"Okay my hungover brain doesn’t want to argue anymore. Just want food."

With that, the three of you are crashing on the couch while Yeri takes liberal bites of her burger. The fries get split amongst you, picked at sporadically between your playful gossiping.

The upcoming exhibition- that's opening in a week, wow, where did all that time go?- is a pretty big one, and the three of you have been slogging it out for months now. At this stage of the project, having a weekend to kick back and relax has become a true rarity. It makes you treasure the time together even more.

But in that vengeful manner that time seems to get when you're enjoying yourselves, the afternoon slips by when it feels like it's barely even begun. Outside the looming windows of Yeri’s loft apartment, the sun is beginning to set. The tv is playing but it’s the equivalent of a murmur, just ambient noise as the three of you soak in the coziness of physical closeness.

None of you wants to shatter the quiet calm that has settled in like a blanket over you, but someone has to. And that someone is you.

You lift your head from where it rests on Soo-eun’s shoulder. Your light jostling causes Yeri to lift her head from where it lays on your lap.

You sigh. "I’ve procrastinated grocery shopping for the entire day. And the fridge isn't getting any fuller the longer I stay."

Yeri whines and plops her head back down onto your lap, pressing down forcefully to keep you from getting up.

"Or we could all go to the store together," Soo-eun says. Yeri's head pops up at the suggestion.

"Idea! Let's go!" she says, scrambling up from her reclined position across the couch. "You brought me Arby’s, it’s only fair I do groceries with you."

You turn to Soo-eun, but she’s replying before you can even ask. "I suggested it, of course I’m ok with it."

"Fine," you huff, but they both know it’s feigned annoyance. All three of you are as clingy to each other as the next is. "You can come along. But we’re only buying the necessities. Only. Necessities."

Your basket is full of non-necessities thrown in by Yeri. You really should have made a shopping list.

While Yeri is busy perusing the next aisle, Soo-eun removes the bags of chips Yeri had thrown in (because ‘this is a necessity! You never have any snacks when we crash at your place, I’m just thinking ahead for our future hangouts!’) and places them back on the shelf it came from. You smile at her gratefully.

Yeri returns with another armful of snacks.

"Yeri," you groan. "I came for fresh produce, not this. I already had an overripe tomato for breakfast. I’m not up for eating junk food as sustenance for the rest of the week."

"Well you could have had a nice fresh meal if you didn’t skip out on brunch. Poor Dong-In, I can’t believe you cancelled brunch with him."

"Hm," you say, walking ahead down the grocery aisle, "if you feel so bad for Dong-In, maybe you shouldn’t have overslept on us then."

Yeri chases after you to dump the snacks in your basket. "You could have just gone without me. He’s a nice guy, y’know."

"No way, that would be too awkward. What would we even talk about? We’re so different."

"You’ve only met him twice. Who knows? Maybe he belts out Broadway songs in the shower just like you and you can finally find the Phantom to your… Opera."

Walking just behind the two of you, Soo-eun’s laughter, though hastily masked by a cough, could be heard.

"It’s Christine. And if you’d watched the musical, you would know not to wish Phantom on anyone," you say.

"Whatever! I’m just saying, it takes more than two meetings to know someone. Give him a chance, ____."

"Wait." You freeze mid-step. You turn to Yeri. "Are you trying to set me up with Dong-In?!"

Yeri’s eyes roll in exaggerated exasperation. When she’s done, she folds her arms and her body language sends a loud and clear, "Duh."

You frantically pull your phone out from where it sits in the pocket of your jeans. Swiping quickly to read your text conversations with Dong-In in the light of this new information, you’re absolutely mortified by your lack of awareness and worried if you’ve come off as brash in your ignorance.

"Does he know? Am I the only one who’s unaware?!"

This time, it’s Soo-eun that pitches in. "Even as a third party, it was pretty obvious Yeri was trying to matchmake you two. So… sorry, ____, but it’s just you."

You sputter.

"It’s alright. Your obliviousness is part of your charm," Yeri says.

"And," Soo-eun cuts in before you can retort, "you have no obligation to feel anything for Dong-In. So if you’re not interested in him that way, you just aren’t."

Yeri huffs, but agrees. "She’s right. But- now that you’re finally aware- give him a chance alright?"

As it turns out, you never get to give Dong-In that chance. With the exhibition launching in less than a week, it's a crazy sprint to the finish-line, and your days are simply too packed to think about anything other than preparing for the exhibition.

The exhibition itself has a short lifespan- it'll be open to the public for a relatively short period of six months.

But accompanying it is a series of open lectures meant for public education of the arts. Yeri, who is simply amazing at patron relations, managed to rope in guest lecturers for the next few months. But the museum thought it would be an excellent idea to have one of their own resident curators to helm the first of the series of lectures.

And it was an excellent idea. Just not for the curator who had to take it on. And that curator would be you.

Sitting in the first row of seats in the auditorium, you try your best to refrain from looking back. You can hear the buzz of the audience behind you as they stream in. It sounds like a sizable amount of people. Looking back would only spook you out further, so you focus your attention on the index cards in your hands, running through your main points again and again.

You take a deep breath in, and heave it out in an attempt to release the anxiety built up in your chest. A warm hand gently pries your right hand’s nervous grip off your index cards.

"____," Soo-eun says. She's smiling assuredly at you when you look up at her. "You'll be great."

From your left, Yeri gives your shoulder a light shove. "Yeah. You've got this, girl!"

"We've seen the amount of effort you've put into this. It'll pay off," Soo-eun says.

Their words breathe a deep sense of confidence in you. After all, they're the ones who had to bear with your stress and they're the witnesses to consecutive late nights you've pulled in the office to get your script and slides done. This particular iteration of the script was a product of not just your work, but their benevolence and hard work too at editing and proofreading.

Squeezing Soo-eun's hand in yours in a bid to get rid of the jitters, you nod at them.

"We've got this," you say.

The clock hits time and you walk on stage, focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other and focusing on not- oh god forbid- tripping over your heels. The nerves are still present as you take your place at the podium, but you ignore the way your hands tremble ever so slightly.

You greet the audience, capturing their attention, and begin your presentation. And as you begin talking about your subject matter- the topic you've spent months researching and studying- the nerves melt away and your passion begins to take center-stage in your mind instead.

You're so immersed in the topic that you're just going and going, and soon enough you've reached the end of your script and the ‘Q&A’ slide is up on screen. Applause fills the auditorium, and you smile, genuinely pleased that people seem to have enjoyed your presentation. In the corner of your eye, you see Yeri cheering, and Soo-eun shoots you two thumbs-up.

"Thank you." You bow slightly. "I'll open the time up to the floor. If anyone has any questions, you may feel free to ask them now."

You scan across the auditorium, looking out for questions, when-

Time freezes in that way it always seems to whenever your eyes meet. Seated somewhere in one of the middle aisles but off to the right of the auditorium, long limbs crossed one over the other in his black slacks, Namjoon's eyes are wide as yours catch on him as if encountering a snag.

Oh. My. God. What is he doing here?

Peeling your eyes off him, you skim across the room again. Thankfully, a few hands are raised now and you take their questions, offering yourself a means of escape. But your attention is split and it takes intentional effort as you forcibly will yourself to look at anything but him.

"Okay, I'm afraid that's all the questions we have time for. But I'll be around with some of the other curators for a couple more minutes if anyone has any other questions about the exhibition," you say, gesturing to Yeri and Soo-eun, who wave at the public.

As the audience disperses, you walk off stage, hoping he'll just quietly leave.

No such luck, apparently. From your peripheral vision, you see him coming over as a few other members of the public come up to you to thank you for your lecture.

"Hey," he says, and the familiarity of his warm tone hits you like a punch in the gut, "um, you did a really good job today."

As if your break up hadn't happened the way it did, as if the numerous awkward encounters hadn't taken place, as if it didn't hurt you right now just seeing his face properly after all these years, you put up a front. You smile at him diplomatically.

"Thanks," you say. Your tone is kept even, professional. "How did you find it?"

"It was great, really. I've come to a couple of the museum's exhibitions, but this is the first lecture I've attended."

"Yeah, it's a new thing we decided to introduce for this particular exhibition."

"It's great, yeah. Gives more depth and insight to the art pieces and really makes the whole thing come alive when you see it from the curator's perspective."

You nod. "Nice. That was our intention."

"Anyway," he pauses and runs a hand through his hair self-consciously, "how have you been? It's been a long time."

You bite back the scathing remark that sits on the tip of your tongue. It's almost too enticing to finally let him have it after the years of torment he'd caused you after your break up. The torment that still lives in you, muted under layers of numbness that you've buried it under. Did he even feel the pain in the same measure that you did?

"I'm good." You're tempted to leave it at that. But there's just something in his eyes, something... like a plea? that makes it impossible for you to be cold to him the way your past self imagined you would be. "I've been living in the city for a couple of years now. I'm working in the museum as a curator, as you can see, and yeah, life has been good for me."

Before you can stop yourself, you find yourself reciprocating his question. Ultimately, you can't deny your burning curiosity at what he's been up to. "What about you? How have things been for you?"

"I finally got published a few years back," he says, and you nod as if this is new information to you. Truth is, on your summer break back home that year, your eavesdropping ways had brought the news to you as you heard Hoseok congratulating him on his breakthrough. He laughs lightly. "My life has kind of just revolved around writing, getting inspiration from different sources to write, then writing more. If it sounds really mundane, it's because it is."

"No way." You shake your head. "You're living your dream, Namjoon. Wasn't it always your ambition to be a published author?"

You regret it almost immediately, bringing up the past. Anything to do with the past is dangerous territory. Hell, having a conversation with him that's more than just polite small talk about cursory topics devoid of personal details and emotions (i.e. a conversation like this one) is dangerous territory.

He murmurs something, and you’re certain you mishear him. "You remember."

"Pardon?"

"No, I was agreeing with you. Yeah, it is."

In the background, your slides click off, and it pulls you out of your conversation with Namjoon.

"I think I've gotta go," you say, pointing to the podium where Soo-eun collects your belongings. "My friends are waiting for me."

"Oh!" Namjoon says, turning to look at where you're pointing. "Yeah, don't wanna hold you up any longer. Thanks for your time today."

He turns to go, and you can't help the nagging discomfort at the way things are left hanging between the two of you.

"Hey!" you call. He turns back. "Do you want to do dinner? Hoseok is coming out for the weekend, so do you want to hang out, the three of us? We're going to the diner two streets down from here."

Funny. Didn’t you avoid this diner to avoid Namjoon the last time? Again, it seems the fates truly have a sense of humor.

Namjoon's eyebrows raise in surprise, but it's momentary and quickly replaced as his features soften into a grateful smile. His dimples appear and you hate how, even after all these years, it still has the power to wring your heart out.

"That sounds really nice, actually," he says.

"Is seven ok for you?"

"Seven’s good. I'll see you and Hoseok then."

"See you," you say and he nods. This time, he turns to go for real.

As you watch his retreating figure, you wonder if you really made the right choice, opening the door for him to re-enter your life after all these years.

[thefirsthogokage]

Why did you rage quit the rookie?

(this turned out longer then I meant it to be, but I kept remembering reasons why I hate this show now)

The writing went down the drain. Hard. I was so pissed because it started off well in season one. Granted, it had a couple big ridiculous things that happened, but overall it was pretty good. Especially for a freshman show. One of the best I'd seen in years.

Then season two came along and it became progressively/exponentially worse.

Obviously going for shock value over good content with extreme circumstances in most episodes, often not making sense (why the fuck did Nolan's son and his girlfriend go to that trailer park?)

poor plot lines with female characters (Lopez and Wes getting engaged after only being together a few months, Lopez trying out to be pretty damn toxic and "I was poor, you should have been happy you were rich" and "sorry you're embarrassed of me (which is the same abousive shit my mother would pull), Grace going back to her ex because they had a kid even though their marriage sucked and it was outlined earlier in the season that was a bad idea, Jessica killing that one guy and that was never followed through on and her being psycho and following Nolan around and that never being addressed, Chen never given psychological damage she should have absolutely had even of she did self-therapy, Rachel getting her "dream job" in NY and the writers couldn't even take the time to tell us what said dream job was.)

Poorly planned plots in general (stunningly so)

Most characters not feeling like a proper continuation of who they were in season one. Going a ong with that, Chen and Bradford being way too close basically over night when that isn't natural progression from season one

I was for Chenford after season one, but they escalated it in a very cheesy and non true to character way, which also happened way too quickly. So many of their interactions felt too romantically tinted when they shouldn't have been there yet. HEART EYES ALL THE TIME! Like, I stayed watching the show for them until I couldn't tolerate anymore. Then I tried staying for Nyla and just gave up because I hated the rest of the show so much

obvious lack of research (the serial killer with pathology that made no sense, never finding out the connection between him and the lady, the guy apparently also got a job a prison with a stolen social security number from a disabled person - both of which would have been flagged in a background check!!! Such a genuinely poor writing episode and the season just went even more downhill from there)

Nolan being the hero even more in most of the episodes, and his intellect or lack thereof being a plot device

not letting Chen actually suffer from PTSD like she should have and just had her basically quickly move on in an impossible way (I am including this twice, thank you)

throwing her into a relationship with a guy who was a jackass and went all "leave my woman alone" on Bradford when she absolutely didn't need help

Jackson going to a very public premiere with his actor boyfriend even though he was an active cop. What the actual fuck were they thinking with that? Jackson isn't that dumb, he would have never done that.

this show clearly is not keeping a a continuity or character bible of any sort, getting basic facts of their characters wrong (especially Tim, I just can't remember the specific thing that it was, but it could have been inconsistencies in his wounds. Now that I think about it, Chen said something about him getting shot more then once and stabbed and the only time we ever saw evidence of any injury was after he was shot in episode one. Which actually brings me to my next point...)

they never had Tim have a scar from his gunshot wound

Tim getting his 12-year-old-acting girlfriend out of trouble when she bats her eyes at him. He shouldn't have even been dating her in the first place. No way Tim would have ever dated a friend of his rookie. Completely unprofessional of him, in a way that was not believable for his character.

No way Chen could have been an undercover cop after that documentary episode. And if that episode was mean to be a stand alone, it should have never been in the show. That episode also had continuity issues, and that's not including the absolute insanity of whatever the fuck they did to Stirling. (That poor actor, he really wanted to come back and continue the story with his character and Jackson)

THE WHOLE FUCKING BULLSHIT TIMELINE AND PACING OF THE SHOW! examples: They made the stupid thing current to whatever the real world year was. The problem with that was they had an in-universe schedule set up. The first two seasons should have spanned from like October 2018 to October 2019, and yet, in the episode where Wes got stabbed (earlyish season 2), it was November 2019 when it should have been around like May, 2019. They said it was 2021 early in S3 when it should have never been around that time. Infact, it was supposed to be during their last 30 days of their rookie year, meaning THAT should have been October or November 2019. The time pacing of this show is so bad. They should have done a real time skip in season 3, instead, the first NINE FUCKING EPISODES WERE THOSE LAST 30 DAYS! And, according to someone else's math, because of the bullshit with the timeline, Lopez was pregnant for 11 months. Absolutely fucking insane. Timelines and timetables that are so thoroughly screwed up in a show that it's THAT obvious they are flying by the seat of their pants are just impossible for me to stand. That is so dumbfounding to see on any tv show and alone enough for me to rage quit. It's so bizarre they stuck to a timeframe in-universe, then so obviously screwed up what year it was every damn season at least once (in S3 2-3 times).

Just such piss poor writing. No real planning ability. No writing talent left in that writer's room after season one. Just people who throw words down on paper and hope that people will like it. Which so many people still do for some reason?

There are so many other things wrong with this show, but those are the ones I remember off the top of my head. Granted, a couple are second hand because I stopped watching after the rookies did stuff with the DEA. I couldn't watch that. That was such and insane idea. OH AND THEM GOING ON A FUCKING SECRET OP? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

And that's not including what I've heard was their "After School Special"-style take on fighting racism in the police force.

And I don't always pick up on these kinds of things specifically. I generally don't pick up on missteps like that in plot or timelines or whatnot or just things that even someone who doesn't have much specified knowledge in certain things should miss (the "job at a prison" thing I mentioned earlier). I'm good at telling the chemistry between actors, - or lack there of, - not the other stuff. When it's so bad I - of all people - am noticing things that are normally pointed out to me, a lot of fucking up is happening. In multiple departments. Like, normally when anything happens in other shows, it isn't as blunt, on the head, painfully obvious, and frequent as it has been in this show.

So, yeah, if you made it though my rant, congrats. If you don't get irritated with the show and bullshit that happens in it now, power to you I guess.

I really wished I could still hate watch this show, but it checked way too many "this is exceptionally poor craftsmanship: tv show edition" boxes for me to put up with it anymore. It was so promising at first, even with it's various hiccups (that I didn't notice until later on all of them) but I hadn't seen a show crash that hard in quality before. I mean, since then I had to experience the travesty that was Supernatural going from 15x18 to 15x19 and 15x20, but that was after I gave up on The Rookie.

Anywho, I would say I hope that answers your question anon, but I have little room for doubt that it didn't.

[oosteven-universe]

Magic #7

Magic #7 BOOM! Studios 2021 Written by Jed MacKay Illustrated by IG Guara Coloured by Arianna Consonni Lettered by Ed Dukeshire    The Guilds of Ravnica, now aligned against a foe that threatens the entire Multiverse, must defend Ravnica united! Fortunately, the warriors of the Guilds have the legendary Planeswalker, Jaya Ballard, by their side to repel the mutant horrors of her ancient enemy. Will Jaya and our cabal of Planeswalkers be able to reach Jace Beleren before the herald of 'REDACTED' does?    With each issue I'm more and more impressed by what Jed does with this series.  That we are seven issues into the run and we’re still following the same arc is for me utterly amazing.  It is playing itself out in what feels like a natural progression as the story dictates it be told instead of being forced into what we would think of as trade arcs.  So in my humble opinion this is the way the story should be being told.  Also the bond that these three have been forging since the get go has been increasing exponentially with each new issue and this is another aspect to the story that I really like seeing.      Needless to say I am a huge fan of the way that this is being told.  The story & plot development that we see through how the sequence of events unfold as well as how the reader learns information is presented exceptionally well.  The character development that we see through the dialogue, the character interaction as well as how we see them act and react to the situations and circumstances which they encounter keeps their ever changing & evolving personalities at the forefront.  How we see everything working together to create the story’s ebb & flow as well as how it moves the story forward is exceptionally well achieved.    I greatly appreciate how we see this being structured as well as how the layers within the story continue to emerge, grow, evolve and strengthen.  The way that these layers open up new avenues to be explored, while exploring those that have already been opened all add this great depth, dimension and complexity to the story.  That we finally get to see Jace again and that he may, may mind you, become more involved makes me a happy camper.  How we see everything working together to create the story's ebb & flow as well as how it moves the story forward is impeccably achieved.    Guara’s people are really rather beautifully rendered, yes i’d like to see our resident medusa more frightening in nature but the faces and facial expressions we do see further the characterisation extremely well.  The linework is clean, crisp and sharp and with their varying weights and techniques being utilised to create the detail within the work that we see is amazing.  The one thing I would like to see more of are backgrounds. Though how we see the composition within the panels bringing out the depth perception, sense of scale and the overall sense of size and scope to the story is well rendered.  The utilisation of the page layouts and how we see the angles and perspective in the panels show a remarkably talented eye for storytelling.  The various hues and tones within the colours being utilised to create the shading, highlights and shadow work shows an excellent understanding of how colour works.   ​    I know that this is based off the card game but in all reality the way that Jed tells this holds many similarities to any superhero book on stands right now.  A group of individuals who possess great power come together to thwart a villain.  In this case said villain just happens to be some godlike being who has been banished and yet is gathering enough power to once again return to claim what she feels is rightfully hers.  It doesn’t get more classic a superhero story than this folks so we need to get out of the mindset that these types of books aren’t for you.  I mean this is impeccably written with excellent characterisation and some dynamic interiors that can’t be tamed.  

[redhawtriot]

Sole Mates🦶❤️🦶 (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Part 1, Part 3 

Part 2:

Izuku Midoriya never thought that he would be the kind of boy to fall so passionately in love.  To be frank, he wasn’t sure if he would ever fall in love. He was a nervous wreck throughout his daily life—probably only a hair away from a mental breakdown at any given moment of the day, so if you were to add a girl into the equation his anxiety would certainly increase exponentially.

That’s why, when he stumbled upon you seven years ago, during his freshman year at U.A., romance was probably the last thing on his mind.

The first time he saw you was actually pretty fleeting. You worked at a small convenience store near U.A. that he would sometimes go to when he needed miscellaneous things for his dorm. In fact, he is sure that your first words to him were, “Your total comes to 1480 yen.”

He knew that they were simple words, but he just wished someone would tell his heart that! The muscle had inconsiderately thumped against his chest as his hand shakily handed you the cash. He was sure that it stopped beating altogether when you blessed his day with a lingering smile as you handed him his items, gently biting your lips to keep from smiling too hard, “Thanks, please come again,” you had drawn out as you tilted a daring expression toward him.

Was—was tha--? No. No way you were flirting with him. Him? You? You and him!?

Izuku had tried to blink those ridiculously hopeful thoughts out of his head as he turned away from you. He had tried to forget the gorgeous way that you sang your goodbye to him when the bells to the store front rang as he made his exit, and how happy you looked when he threw one final glance back at you. He had tried so hard.

There were far too many stresses in his life at the time—with the League at full force, his work study with Endeavor, and of course, his mastering of One for All all needing his dire attention, but that wouldn’t keep him from stealing timid glances for the next few months whenever he returned to the convenience store.

One day Izuku had found himself staring at you for a bit longer than he had meant to, ‘Crap.’ he had suddenly caught himself as the two of you made brief eye contact before throwing his eyes back toward the items in his clammy hands. God, why was he being so creepy? You must hate it every time he comes here.

Izuku’s heart dropped at the thought, ‘Well… Maybe she didn’t notic-‘

“Hey, Green eggs and Ham!” he heard your voice firmly call out, sending him into a deep panic,

‘Me? Does she mean me? She must hate me. Oh god, she is gonna call me out for staring at her all the time. I mean, if I were her and some weirdo was coming to my store to gawk, I would be a little creeped out too. B-but It’s not like I come here only for her! I have groceries! Oh no! She probably does think I come here to stalk h—’

“You’re never gonna ask me out on a date,huh?” you planted your cheek against the palm of you hand as you leaned toward him on the checkout counter. You smiled, almost sadly at him as you waited for him to answer.

Izuku shook his head slightly as he tried to readjust his hearing, because there is no way in hell he just heard you right, “W-w-wha…” you suddenly spoke up and cut off his stuttering,

“If you’re not feeling me, then stop looking at me like that,” you rolled your eyes, standing yourself back up straight, “You’re kinda getting my hopes up, dude,” you shrugged your shoulders before returning to your small tasks: re-shelfing tidying etc.…

“Y-your... up... hopes?” Izuku could only stand a stammering mess as his overwhelmed brain tried to compute the information thrown at it. An imaginary light-bulb suddenly appeared with a sharp “ding!” above his head.

He gave a sigh as if he were preparing his thoughts on the tip of his tongue, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare it’s just… you’re really pretty…” he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he looked toward the ground. He looked back up to meet with your shocked expression. He jumped as if your face had suddenly thrown a left hook in his direction before furiously correcting his statement, “N-not to be creepy or anything. I am sure you get that a lot, so you know I don’t mean anything by that! Well, I am not saying that to be flirty or something, I don’t have a crush or anything! Ha! That would be ridiculous! You don’t even know my name, although Green eggs and Ham is a new one. I haven’t heard that one be—"

“Well I do,” you abruptly cut him off as you raised an eyebrow into your wide-smiling expression.

“W-what.”

“Have a crush. On you.” You nonchalantly shrugged your shoulders, “Want to meet up after I get off in an hour?”

Izuku’s heart had practically dropped straight out of his chest, and he was sure that he was ascending on his way to heaven. He somehow managed to gather up enough life force to accept your request, and after that day the ball began rolling fast.

Like a clump of snow pushing its way downhill, your small dates quickly accumulated and turned into a full-fledged relationship. It was very easy for Izuku to fall into you. You were very assertive and knew exactly what you wanted out of your days. You were never exactly the shy type, and that must have rubbed off on him and given him the support that he needed to become more sure of himself.

As your uplifting whirlwind of romance progressed, the two of you rapidly meshed into one being, your personalities mixing and bringing out the best qualities of one another. As much as you would have denied it at the time, you two were almost too involved with one another-- pretty much inseparable. Despite this, the two of you hardly ever hung out at U.A., and even when you did, he would, only after being reassured a million times that you wouldn’t get caught, sneak you into the Alliance dorms.

Even though the two of you never actually did get caught, the thought of you being so close to his other life brought him an unexpected sense of dread. Izuku didn’t necessarily want to introduce you into his hero life. Even as a young boy of fifteen he knew that his life had a certain degree of danger that he would never want to involve you in. Your quirk was very small and wouldn’t help much of you were ever in a dangerous position.

Still, he was sure that you would never have to worry about any of that, because he would keep you as far away from his dangerous lifestyle as possible. He was sure that he could do it, because of your endless enthusiastic support for him.

Izuku was so sure, in fact, that he proposed to you only weeks after the two of you graduated high school and you got married a year after that. The wedding was small—only having a few of your closest friends and family and some faces on his side that were slightly unfamiliar to you. You had met his mother years prior of course, but the wedding was actually the first time that you had met any of his friends from high school, or anyone associated with his hero life really, and you didn’t really see much of them after the fact—until your daughter was born.

Your daughter, (D/N), or Koko as the two of you liked to call her, was born a little after you were married when you were only 20 years old. You two hadn’t planned to have a baby so early and neither of you really knew how to take care of child at all. You fumbled around for only a while before finally giving in and allowing outside help from some of his friends.

After all it takes a village to raise a child and six heads is better than two. Todoroki, Iida, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu all pitched in to help raise Koko for her first three years of life and helped to life a tremendous weight off your shoulders.

But with that innocent opening came a flood of misfortune.

It was as if the safe little bubble that held the two of you in place, had suddenly burst wide open allowing the evils of this world to rip you apart.

Izuku flinched at the sudden memories as if he were trying to jerk away from them before the painful ones could emerge. He tried to refocus on only you as you furiously sat on your hospital bed.

He couldn’t help the sudden ache in his heart as you threw an awkward glance in his direction, but the two of you made eye contact, causing your gaze to dart away from his forlorn expression. He had been missing the enthusiastic look in your eyes for the past two years. He missed the light determination that was also etched in your voice as it loudly and proudly carried into the atmosphere.

Here he was, 10 months after the finalization of your divorce, finally looking you in the eyes again, holding a conversation…

So, why, in God’s name, did it have to be this one?

“Bonded,” The green haired man instinctively pinched this chin as he thought, “A quirk that allows to you now only read each other’s minds but feel each other’s pain and presence. I have never heard of a quirk like that before, although I guess it is similar to a telekinesis quirk mixed in with a consciousness transfer quirk. Although the two of you don’t swap consciousness, just share pieces of it…” his mutterings trailed off and were shortly after followed by Bakugou’s enraged shrieking,  

“THAT’S WHAT THE HELL I JUST SAID, YOU NERD!” he seethed, grinding his teeth in a slender effort to keep from snatching up the other man by the collar of his shirt again. This day honestly couldn’t get any worse. Seriously! How the hell, out of the millions of people in this city, did he get in such a fucked-up TV drama of a situation with fucking Deku’s ex-wife?

Let’s repeat that for emphasis. HOW in the ever-loving FUCK did his end up with a shitty, nagging bitch of a woman prying around in his mind, with shitty annoying Deku also butting into his business, in the middle of what was supposed to be a shitty easy job, and end up in a in a shitty fucking hospital!!  He was wearing a god damn gown for Christ’s sake!

A sudden thought of yours popped into his mind—sending a hot wave of blood to his cheeks.

Izuku took Bakugou’s sudden pause as an opportunity to faintly speak up, “Sorry it’s just... a lot to take in,” he tried his hardest not to let his gaze fall in your direction.

“Don’t apologize to him, Izuku,” you addressed him for the first time, causing his heart to flutter. His name rolling off of your tongue also gave your stomach invisible butterflies but you continued despite this, “This is all his fault,” you turned to Bakugou, causing the mentioned blond to snap a quick glare at you, “This is all your fault!” you barked to the angry porcupine of a man.

He immediately barked back, “How the hell is it my fault? You were the hero wannabe that stuck her nose where it didn’t belong!” As he screamed back, Izuku could only watch in horror as the two most head-strong people that he knew began heatedly bickering back and forth.

He was only shocked out of his stunned state as you threw yourself forward toward Bakugou with an accusing finger, your body almost following after off of the side of the bed. “Your feral ass is the one who scared off our only lead! He was snatching kids!” you yelled incredulously toward Izuku, “If someone talked to my kid like that, I would…” you trailed off as a lie almost fell out of your mouth. You decidedly fixed your angry face back toward Bakugou, “well I guess I wouldn’t run away like she did. I would beat your ass!”

His hands angrily crackled, the heat of them at his sides causing his hospital gown to whip violently at the bottom hem, “I’d like to see you try, hag!”

“Hag?!” You clumsily jumped out of the hospital bed, but Izuku held out a soft arm in front of you. You ignored his pleading glance as your hot gaze could only fixate on Bakugou, “You’re not too good looking yourself! And you smell like burnt shit.” This egotistical asshole might have gotten by with treating other people like shit, but you’d be dammed if you were gonna let him walk all over you.

“Liar! I can read your mind, you know!” he snapped, causing your heart to momentarily drop before he nastily continued with a deep smirk, “You’ve been wondering how I “can still look so sexy in a hospital gown”, perverted bitch!”

Both yours and Izuku’s jaw dropped at the accusation. As Izuku’s heartbroken eyes darted to yours, searching for the truth, your face became sizzling hot with a rush of emotion—the forefront feeling being rage. You most certainly did not feel that way about an egotistical piece of burning garbage like him. He must be mind-illiterate because there is no way that that thought was read correctly.  

But before you could open your mouth to respond, Izuku, who’s emotions had also been building during this entire dispute, finally exploded,

“KNOCK IT OFF!” his soft demeanor cracked, revealing a seriously frustrated man, “Kacchan, don’t talk to her like that.” He very seriously demanded. He knew that, because of Bakugou’s hatred for instruction, he wouldn’t be able to say his next point if he didn’t continue quickly, “You both need to calm down, or else I am gonna have to ask you to leave,” he said lowly, causing your eyebrows to sharply raise. You had only ever heard him talk this seriously on two occasions.: the night All Might died, and the day the two of you decided to get a divorce.

“Like you can fucking tell me what to do, Deku,” he snapped back, before throwing his clenched fist tightly at his sides, wishing that he had some pockets on this stupid ass gown to throw them into. He scoffed at Izuku’s unphased glower before turning away toward the room’s exit, “Tch. I don’t fucking care. I’ll go right now! You two idiots wouldn’t be able to help much anyway. I’ll fix it my damn self,” he stopped around the frame’s corner.

‘Well that was unexpected,’ You watched Bakugou’s figure retreat with a sudden heavy feeling in your chest. What the fuck what even was that feeling?

Guilt?

Shit, it just might be.

You had been just as much of a brat as him, if not more, so you were just as much as him to blame for things getting out of hand. You anxiously bit your lower lip as you contemplated apologizing to him. You were far from being above apologizing. You were certainly a type of person that could admit when they were wrong, and It was hard to deny that you would need Bakugou’s presence if you wanted to figure out this whole ‘bonded’ situation. The sole of your foot throbbed simply at the thought.

Dammit, guilt is not a good look for you.

Izuku’s voice abruptly knocked you out of your thoughts, “I know this is probably the last thing you want to do right now, but I don’t think you should go home alone,” you averted your gaze away from him as the heavy realization that you two were now in isolation together sunk in. He awkwardly continued, “The nursed told me you could be released right now, but needed to be watched, so… would you mind if I took you to pick up Koko from my mom and then maybe I stayed with you two for a few days?”

Koko.

Her name suddenly slapped you in the face, harshly reminding you about your life outside of this “TV drama” as Bakugou had thought of it as. What did this situation entail for your everyday life? Would you be able to work as efficiently as before? Was everything you strived for the past few years about to be ripped from your grasp? Hell no.

Your body involuntarily moved as you stepped toward the door to find Bakugou; however, a gentle hand found its way around your arm. You followed the appendage up its length and found Izuku’s beautiful, yet anxious eyes, “Where are you going? I-I know it will be weird with me being around again all of a sudden, but I only want to help. Nothing else, I promise.”

He could, in theory be a massive help to you figuring this “foot mate predicament thingy” out. He was extremely clever, and was the number one hero in Japan, but… also your ex-husband with whom you had… unresolved issues with. Were you even able to suck up the wagon full of emotional baggage that was between you two?

Then again, the angry porcupine didn’t seem like much of a better option either to be honest.

Fuck. What should you do?

Should you follow after Bakugou and apologize? Or go home with Izuku?

YOU DECIDE

Click this link to cast your vote!

[shesey]

Excerpts from Rachel Cusk’s Outline

“It was this eccentricity that had made me answer him. The unexpected sometimes looks like a prompting of fate.” “He began to ask me questions, as though he had learned to remind himself to do so, and I wondered what or who had taught him that lesson, which many people never learn.” “They were both still young enough to believe that this principle of growth was exponential; that life was only expansive, and broke the successive vessels in which you tried to contain it in its need to expand more.” “For a few weeks he lived in a state of pure illusion which was really numbness, like the numbness that follows an injury, before pain starts to make its way through it.” “Life had responded willingly to them, had treated them abundantly, and this -- he now saw -- was what had given him the confidence to break it all, break it with what now seemed to him to be an extraordinary casualness, because he thought there would be more.” “The memory of suffering had no effect whatever on what they elected to do: on the contrary, it compelled them to repeat it, for the suffering was the magic that caused the object to come back and allowed the deligh in dropping it to become possible again.” “What I knew personally to be true had come to seem unrelated to the process of persuading others. I did not, any longer, want to persuade anyone of anything.” “It was with her, after all, that his identity had been forged: if she no longer recognised him, then who was he?” “And all the time he sees at a distance his home - his wife - standing there, essentially unchanged, but belonging to other people now.” “Love restored almost everything, and where it can’t restore, it takes away the pain.” “It’s a case of home is where when you have to go there they have to take you in.” “What Ryan had learned from this is that your failures keep returning to you, while your successes are something you always have to convince yourself of.” “You build a whole structure on a period of intensity that’s never repeated. It’s the basis of your faith and sometimes you doubt it, but you never renounce it because too much of your life stands on that ground.” “No matter how busy you are, no matter how many kids and commitments you have, if there’s a passion you find the time.” “I said I didn’t believe people could change so completely, could evolve an unrecognizable morality; it was merely that that part of themselves had lain dormant, waiting to be evoked by circumstance.” “But what other people thought was no longer of any help to me. Those thoughts only existed within certain structures, and I had definitively left those structures.” “He didn’t once glance back at me, for people are at their least aware of others when demonstrating their own power over them.” “Those people were living in their moment, and though I could see it I could no more return to that moment than I could walk across the water that separated us. And of those two ways of living - living in the moment and living outside it - which was the more real?” “Sometimes it has seemed to me that life is a series of punishments for such moments of unawareness, that one forges one’s own destiny by what one doesn’t notice or feel compassion for; that what you don’t know and don’t make the effort to understand will become the very thing you are forced into knowledge of.” “... but this sense of life as a progression is something I want no more of. In his marriage, he now realized, the principle of progress was always at work, in the acquiring of houses, possessions, cars, the drive towards higher social status, more travel, a wider circle of friends, even the production of children felt lik an obligatory calling-point on the mad journey...” “...because it made me see my books not as just entertainments for the middle classes but as something vital, a lifeline in many cases, for people - largely women, it has to be admitted - who feel very much alone in their daily lives.” “I replied that I wasn’t sure it was possible, in marriage, to know what you actually were, or indeed to separate what you were from what you had become through the other person.” “For some women, she said, it would be the realization of their greatest fear, to discover that they were not needed, but for her it had the opposite effect.” “... such a woman is nothing but a parasite, a parasite on her husband, a parasite on her child.” “Perhaps it was because I had begun to see the virtues of standing still.” “... her daughter had said that she didn’t see why it was necessary that men exist... but the plain truth was that she would never have left the children the way their father had... she herself simply wouldn’t have been capable of it, and whether that difference was a biological fact or merely a consequence of conditioning, it still had to be accounted for.” “At that I had to laugh: the idea of me, of all people, nurturing an undue respect for male authority!” “All she wishes is for her life to be integrated, to be one thing, rather than an eternal series of oppositions that confound her whichever way she looks.” “... she recognized the piece as the D minor fugue from Bach’s French Suites, a piece she had always loved and that caused her, hearing it so unexpectedly, to feel there on the pavement the most extraordinary sense of loss. It was as though the music had once belonged to her and now no longer did; as though she had been excluded from its beauty, was being forced to see it in the possession of someone else, and to revisit in its entirety of her own sadness at her inability, for a number of reasons, to remain in that world.” “Music is a betrayer of secrets; it is more treacherous even than dreams, which at least have the virtue of being private.” “If anything, he saw such outwards extremes as the symbols of a correspondingly great inner emptiness, a futility that he believed came from the lack of engagement with any meaningful system of belief.” “It is interesting how keen people are for you to do something they would never dream of doing themselves, how enthusiastically they drive you to your own destruction: even the kindest ones, the ones that are more loving, can rarely have your interests truly at heart, because usually they are advising you from within lives of greater security and greater confinement...” “.... on the contrary, I had come to believe more and more in the virtues of passivity, and of living a life as unmarked by self-will as possible.” “If a man had a nasty side to his character, she wanted to get to it immedkately and confront it. She didn’t want it roaming unseen in the hinterland of the relationship: she wanted to provoke it, to draw it forth, lest it strike her when her back was turned.” “I want to know the content without living through the time span.” “... why bother to speak at all? Why say anything, if you can just take it back the next minute?” “... the disgust taht exists indelibly between man and women...” “Looking back, those were some of the best times of her life, though at the time they had had the feeling of a prelude, a period of waiting, as though for the real drama of living to being.” “... the barrier of language was, ultimately, impassable.” “Her links to the life before him had been completely severed - that person no longer existed, and so when the incident occurred it had been two kinds of crisis, one of which was a crisis of identity... she was like someone who had forgotten their native language, an idea that likewise has always fascinated her. She found, after the incident, that she lacked what might be called a vocabulary, a native language of self.” “... the point was this, that he lived a life ruled by discipline, where hers was governed by emotion.”

[writers-block246]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - The Light Amidst my Darkness

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Warning: Mentions of mental illness. I tried to present Bucky’s challenges as accurately as possible. However, if anyone has some suggestions as to better portray his illness and resulting therapy, please lmk! (I researched to depict his struggle with mental illness and the type of therapy he would recieve as accurately as I could). Curse words are also included.

Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis. Set before Infinity War and Endgame. Slow burn. Slight angst in this chapter.

——————————————————————————

Chapter 3:

Your day had been, to put it simply, Hell. You had been plagued by nightmares the night before, the images consisting of subjects you could no longer remember once the drowsiness seeped from your skin. Thus, you had awoken on the wrong side of the bed (quite literally), and your mood hadn’t improved since. You weren’t going to lie: you were irritable and tired, and frankly? You just wanted some sleep.

On top of your sleepiness, your boss had you in meetings (discussing unimportant topics, in your opinion) all morning. There was not a moment to think, let alone catch up on some much-needed rest.

To make matters worse, your first session consisted of a whirlwind of emotions from your patient; ranging from solemn to outraged to cheerful. Normally, you could handle the situation just fine. However, your restless night made it nearly impossible.

You sighed. You just really wanted to get this day over with.

One last session and then I can go home and sleep forever.

Your last session of the day was with James Barnes. While the man still hadn’t said anything since your last conclave where he cracked and asked you about your motives, he had become noticeably less hesitant when entering your office. And dare you say, more comfortable. You had high hopes that he would continue to progress. However, you expected his silence would persist for a few more sessions, at the least. You definitely pegged him as a stubborn and determined man.

He wouldn’t give up easily.

Or so you thought.

The usual time of 2:30 struck and you settled in your seat, awaiting James’s punctual arrival.

As per usual, the soldier knocked, waited for your invitation to enter, and then opened the door quietly. After, he made his way to his seat and settled comfortably. You noticed there was only trace amount of tension in his shoulders. Still evident, but it was clear that he was more secure in this space. He no longer appeared ready to bolt at a moments notice.

Giving him your typical smile, you greeted him.

Instead of nodding however, he responded with a greeting of his own: “Hello.”

Simple, you knew, but this meant everything for James. You knew he had probably been preparing himself for this moment for days, trying to convince himself that you were at least somewhat trustworthy.

You really couldn’t help the smile that lit up your entire face.

He trusted you, at least a little. But, you refused to push him. Greeting you probably took a large toll on him. And so, the rest of your session was as quiet as a sleeping viper.

It was funny, really, how one little greeting from the man made your mood improve exponentially.

But it meant you had done something. As insignificant as it appeared to the human eye, you had, some way or another, helped James Buchanan Barnes. It was a small step, but it still meant progression. And in this case, any advancement was good. Plus, from the information in his files, you made the conclusion that no one had truly benefitted or assisted the ex-assassin. So, the fact that you, out of all the highly regarded medical professionals that he had dealt with, aided him in any way, was mind blowing. Of course, you were determined to see it done, but to actually have it happen was shocking.

What wasn’t shocking, however, was the smile that remained on your face for the rest of the session.

I can’t believe I actually made progress with him today. Me! Of all people!

Your plan, so far, was working.

Caught up in your pride at your accomplishment, you hadn’t even realized the session had ended. Realizing you were late to give your usual ‘goodbye,’ you went to open your mouth when Mr. Barnes beat you to it: “Goodbye. Have a nice day.”

And with that, he had crossed the room and exited before you could utter a response.

He truly outdid himself today. Not only did he greet me, but he also wished me a good day! Progress, indeed.

You grinned, perhaps the day wasn’t so bad after all.

And so, the following sessions occurred in similar fashion. Although, each time he greeted you, you tried to appear less surprised (it was up for debate if you succeeded). At the end of the session, like clockwork, he would say his goodbye and hasten out the door. (The previous session, however, he had seemed to wait a little longer before leaving the room, giving you just enough time to return his ‘goodbye.’ You still weren’t sure whether or not this was done on purpose, though. But you told yourself it was).

The change in him was small, but if you looked closely, it was clear to see that he was becoming more familiar with you. The thought left a little strand of hope in your stomach. Hope that you could truly help this traumatized and hurting man.

Thursday morning, as you strolled to the Tower’s coffee stand, you mumbled to yourself. “First I’ve got to turn in those reports, and then I need to update the information in my files. I also should probably-“

“Overworking yourself again?”

You jumped at the sound, turning to give whoever had the audacity to scare you a piece of your mind.

The blue eyes and blonde hair gave him away immediately.

Steve Rogers.

You smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Captain.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure. But seriously, you need to cut yourself some slack, you know.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a great role model in that subject,” you said teasingly.

He gave a bashful smile. “Touché.” He cleared his throat, “so, how’s it going with your new patient?”

You couldn’t help but smile. He was always so worried about James, so protective of him.

“Steve, you know that’s confidential.”

His face fell a little. “Yeah, yeah I know. I just worry about him sometimes.”

You sighed, feeling bad for the Captain. “Well, I can’t tell you much, but what I can tell you is that he is behaving quite well. Better than expected actually.”

At that, Steve’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? Is he improving?” he asked excitedly.

“Steve.....” you warned.

He coughed, embarrassed. “Right, right. Confidentiality.”

You smiled warmly. “Exactly.” Looking up at him, you playfully asked: “So, the only reason you decided to give me a heart attack was to ask about Mr. Barnes?”

Steve blushed and rushed to correct you. “No. No. Of course not. I just haven’t seen you in awhile.”

You laughed at his cute reaction. “Yeah, I’ve been super busy as of lately. I’ve been trying to stay on top of it, but I’m not sure if I’m succeeding.”

Placing a hand on your shoulder, he confidently told you: “I’m sure you’ve got it handled. You’re always so put together. Makes me a little jealous.”

You both laughed.

“Thanks, Steve. So, what about you, Mr. Captain America? What have you been up to?”

“Same old, same old, to tell you the truth.”

“Sooooo, saving the world?”

“Pretty much,” he laughed shyly.

Suddenly, a loud beeping noise interrupted your conversation. Checking your phone, you realized you had a session with Mr. Barnes in ten minutes. “Damn, looks like I’m not getting any coffee today.”

He nodded understandingly. “Work?”

“Our infamous Mr. Barnes, actually.”

He smiled. “Well, I hope it goes well.”

Grinning back, you said: “Me too. I’ll see you around, Cap.”

“See you later, Y/N.”

After exchanging promises to meet up and talk, you turned and headed back to your office. You were only a little disappointed in your lack of coffee.

If I had to give up my caffeine, at least it was replaced by some good company.

Finally reaching your office, you took a seat and began preparing for your next session with James.

The minutes slipped past, and you heard your phone ding. Still no James. Fifteen minutes passed and he still hadn’t arrived.

Where is he?

A knock then came at your door. After calling for them to enter, James strode in and settled in his seat.

“Hello. It wasn’t a good day for me.”

Holy shit. Did he just start a session? Like an actual session with talking? What the hell do I do now??

When you gave no response, he continued on: “I know that therapists usually ask you about your day, so.” He nervously avoided your eyes, remaining tense in his seat.

Recovering, you gave a slight cough. “Okay. What made it a bad day?”

Keeping his eyes rooted firmly at the side of your face, he said: “I’m tired. And angry. And normally, I can suppress the negative emotions, but it was too much today.”

You nodded. “That makes sense. Is there a reason it was too much?

He sighed. “Someone told me that they hoped I ‘got well soon.’ And I know, I know, they were just trying to be nice. But it just reminded me that I’m still so fucked up. Even months after I got rid of Hydra’s brainwash.”

You sighed. “Look, Mr. Barnes. I’m not going to sit here and feed you the same shit your previous psychiatrists have. I told myself on day one that I wasn’t going to treat you like some kid. So, there’s no point in lying to you. You’ve been through a lot of shit, and that’s going to take some time to work through. But Mr. Barnes, I don’t think you’re as broken as you think you are. As other people have made you think you are.”

“You—you don’t?” he asked hesitantly.

“No. In fact, you’ve made considerable progress.”

He looked confused. “I’ve hardly talked.”

“But you went from not talking at all, to talking a little. You also seem noticeably less tense. In quite a short time span, I might add.”

“I would hardly call that progress,” he scoffed.

“I would,” you stated strongly. “I know it’s hard to refrain from beating yourself up, because you want to go back to normal, to be the person you once were. Honestly though? Being the person you used to be is overrated, as there’s always room for self-improvement. After all, don’t you want to become a better version of who you were? Even before the whole ‘Winter Soldier’ thing?

He thought for a moment. “Yes.”

You smiled. “I want to be a better person than who I was years ago, too. So, I strive for it everyday.”

“You do?

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed. “I’ve done things I wish I could take back. But, the past is the past, and I can only move forward.”

He seemed to contemplate that last sentence, almost as if he didn’t agree. You made sure to take note of that.

You continued: “Plus, you’re on no set schedule. There’s no expectation that you improve by a certain date. So try not to push yourself, okay? I realize it’s hard, but we’ve got all the time in the world. Plus, you’re not too bad of company, Mr. Barnes.”

You saw the corners of his lips quirk up at that.

Clearing his throat, he said: “Thank you. I really appreciate you being honest with me. I get sick of hearing the same shit from doctors.”

You smiled. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

A chirping noise signaled the end of your session.

“And that’s that, Mr. Barnes. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

He nodded. “Have a good day.”

With a smile in your voice, you said: “You too.”

As he exited your office, he couldn’t help but feel a little better about himself.

Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing after all, he thought.

-Admin Cheyenne

More to come!! Lmk what you think!

[cy-fi-theansweris42]

Inspired by some of @donitkitt‘s artwork during the stream yesterday for his Aftermath AU.  Trigger warnings for nightmares, angst, temporary character death, past torture, blood, and major character injury. (Holy heck that makes it sound so dark, I’m so sorry, and if I missed any warnings please let me know.)

It was quiet, the only sounds being the running water echoing off the tunnel walls and the group’s combined labored breathing, Mikey’s the worst by far with its hitching and shaking. Donnie’s was almost as bad for another reason, shallow and wet sounding, growing slower and weaker with every minute that passed, something that worried Raph to no end.

“Mikey, which way? We don’t know how long Splinter can keep Bishop off our shells.” Leo asked, urgency apparent as he glanced around at the diverging tunnels.

“I’m…I-I think…” Mikey stuttered, wide eyes darting around as he tried to figure out which path they needed to reach safety. “This…this way, yeah.”

They quickly moved down the tunnel to their left, Raphael doing his best to ignore the damp warmth from blood that wasn’t his own that steadily leaked down his carapace and how Donnie’s eyes were closing more by the second, his body slumping more against Raph’s, feeling heavier and heavier as their journey progressed.

“Hold on Don, we’ll be there soon, yeah?”

“Hhhggn.” The sound barely escaped Donnie’s mouth, whatever he was trying to say lost in the haze caused by the blood loss and fever that had set in. It had been too long since Bishop cruelly hacked off Don’s arm, punishment for not cooperating and joining his side, with the pathetic excuse for wrapping being the only medical attention Donatello received afterwards. The covered stump had been radiating a sickening warmth that screamed infection for who knows how long, a problem that needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

Raph had been watching Donnie since he set the dazed turtle against his shell and carried him out of the lab, eye out for any worrying signs. (Who’s he kidding, they’re all worrying and if he’s honest, he doesn’t know how much longer Donnie’s going to be able to hold on for.) As he glanced back at the younger turtle’s face, he watches as Donnie’s glazed eyes slide shut, and then his entire body went limp.

“Don? Donatello stay awake, do you hear me?!” Raphael didn’t bother to even try and hide the fear in his voice, feeling ice-cold fear shoot through his veins.

In his panic and focus on his younger brother, he didn’t see the raised edge of broken concrete that his foot caught on, sending them both sprawling. While Raph swore up a storm, Donnie didn’t make a noise, the only sound was the sickening crack of his shell as it connected with the concrete.

He wasn’t moving.

“Donnie?” Raph whispered, frozen for only a moment before scrambling over to the unmoving turtle. The flimsy bandages from Bishop’s shitty patch job were slightly unraveled, revealing the red and mutilated flesh hidden underneath, blood beginning to pool around the area where Donnie’s arm should have been connected to his shoulder. Raph kneeled, pressed a trembling finger (when did his hands start shaking?) to his little brother’s neck, checking for a pulse.

He couldn’t find one.

“Shit, shit shit shit, Donatello wake the fuck UP!” Raphael shouted, instantly starting CPR, his terror only increasing exponentially when he realizes that Donnie isn’t breathing either. He feels his own heart being to race and breathing become wheezy and shallow, his limbs going numb as a buzzing sets in and his vision tunnels. All he can see is Donnie’s slack face, eyes now open slightly and focused on nothing, unmoving.

Still as the dead.

He finished another set of chest compressions, checked for a pulse, for breath, just some sign of life, that his younger brother, his arrogant genius of a little brother is still here, still alive.

There’s nothing.

-TMNT-

Raphael jerks up in bed, heart going a mile a minute and threatening to burst through his plastron. He tries taking a calming breath in, sadly no stranger to this panic now, gagging on the imagined smell of copper in the air.

Not real, it’s not real.

He breathes in through his mouth this time, hands gripping the bed sheets and focusing on the texture, trying to ground himself. It’s not the first time he’s had a nightmare since their escape, knows it definitely won’t be the last one, but that one…that was new, to say the least. That was the first one where Donnie…

Raph throws off the covers and stands, scrubbing at his face with exhaustion as he realizes he’s not getting anymore sleep tonight, at least not until he’s sure his younger brother is alright. He knows it was just a nightmare, that they got Donnie back before it was too late, and eventually the tech genius woke up and recovered, but that does nothing to alleviate the fear that took root during the dream.

So checking on Donatello it is.

He knows where to find him too, the same place he’s been holed up since he was able to stand up without wobbling, without causing any of his family alarm. Raphael stands in the entryway to the lab for a moment, just watching the hunched-over form of his immediate younger brother at work on that new arm of his.

Alive. He’s alive.

Not fine though, if the irritated grumbling is anything to go by. As he watches, Donnie moves his arm, the one actually attached to his body, to adjust something and as a result a component falls from the framework of a metal one.

“God-DAMMIT.” Donnie yells, slamming down the screwdriver that was previously in his hand.

“Need a hand?” Raph asks before he can stop himself, wincing at the unintentional and poorly-timed joke.

“Ha, ha.” Donatello deadpans as he turns around, not looking at Raphael and grabbing the fallen piece, examining it. “And that broke. Great, fan-fucking-tastic, just my luck.” He tosses the piece onto the desk, turning back towards Raph and this time actually focusing on him. “Can I help you?”

“Just wandering, thought I’d check on ya.” Raph shrugs, just now noticing how tensed up his shoulders were and forcing them to relax, walking into the lab and looking over Don’s shoulder at the project.

Currently, it was just the casing, a hollowed out metal appendage to be filled with circuitry and components so it would work just like a flesh-and-blood arm. Circuit boards and other metallic parts surrounded it, slowly being adapted for the project. Slowly was the problem though; before the capture, Donnie would crank out inventions one after the other, products of sleepless nights caused by a restless mind, but between losing his arm and the following recovery and adjustment, he was moving at a snail’s pace, something that frustrated him to no end. At this rate, it would be months before the arm would even be ready for testing, let alone use.

“Raph, I can see your hands trembling, are you alright?” Donnie questions, the usual laser-focus in his eyes now directed at the older turtle. Almost involuntarily, Raph clenches the traitorous appendages, stilling the subtle shaking.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He sighs, grabbing another chair and wheeling it over, taking a seat and staring at the project strewn on the table. “Ya need some help with this thing?”

Annoyance flares bright in Donatello’s eyes, the same as it always did when someone offered help since the incident, no matter if it ranged from something as small as grabbing a bowl to something as important as his projects. Instead of the usual quickly snapped “no thanks” though, there was hesitation as he stared at his brother, taking in every tired detail. He could easily guess the reason why Raph was awake, the same reason why any of them where up and wandering at these hours now.

For a moment, it was just the two brothers staring at each other, silent and yet so much still being said. Donnie broke the silence first, sighing and grabbing the screwdriver again.

“You fuck anything up and I’m kicking you out, got it?” Donnie warns, pointing the previously discarded screwdriver threateningly.

“Got it.” Raphael grins, taking the tool. “Just point me in the right direction.”

He moves the chair closer, in part to get at a better angle to work on Donnie’s precious tech, and also to be closer to his younger brother, the impatient tapping from not being able to work, his annoyed huffs of breath between near constant instructions, just his presence, the fact he was alive chasing away the remaining nerves brought by the nightmare. Raphael carefully focuses on the delicate task, knowing that without a doubt Donnie will make good on his promise if he makes a mistake, and feels calm.

Raph knows Don, knows how absolutely fucking stubborn the guy is, how he’d rather take an eternity on a project that needs to be completed than even hint that he needs help. So the fact that he’s accepting Raph’s offer? On such an important project like this one no less? The genius has to be at the end of his rope. Raph knows not to voice this thought though, to just silently help. Sometimes, that’s what Donnie needed more than anything else.

Donatello partially watches the last of the tension leave his older brother’s body as he works, the rest of his focus on Raphael’s work, glad that finally some solid progress is being made (not that he’d ever admit how tough it’s been to try and work on something one-handed, that he’s been frustrated beyond belief and it’s so satisfying to see actual progress). He’s seen Raph, seen everyone in the lair in fact, wandering around in the middle of the night before, talked with all of them before. Raph never hovered in the lab though, instead always making casual conversation before shuffling off somewhere else. Considering what had happened, how Raphael had been the one to carry him out of Bishop’s workshop when he was so close to bleeding out, he could guess what the events of tonight’s nightmare were and why they were causing Raph to stay nearby.

He didn’t want to think about how that had nearly become a reality.

Taking that guess and seeing how it was affecting the older turtle made Donnie’s blood boil in white-hot rage for two reasons. One, Bishop, that utter bastard had caused this, and was still causing his family pain in ways that just seemed to keep coming (like Leo’s sight; he saw how Leo was squinting at things, knew how Bishop loved to torture the oldest turtle, knew that something was up even if Leo hadn’t said anything). Two, his own inability to remedy the current situation. It was no secret that Donnie wasn’t the best with emotions, that he shoved aside his own because it was easier that way, and that after everything that happened if you needed comfort and calm then you went to Raph. So when it came to helping said brother calm down after his own nightmare? He wasn’t sure how to proceed, and he absolutely hated not knowing how to do something, how to help.

Donatello took a guess, a shot in the dark he could only hope would hit its mark. If he was right about the nightmare, then being close would help, a solid constant reminder that he was here, not gone. So he kept tapping away the energy that was usually spent building, kept the steady stream of “do this, no STOP, ok now just hold that there and that’ll work” going. Kept up the subtle reminders that everything was alright. Not good, good was something that was long gone, but alright.

Right now at least, everything was alright.

[rejectclone]

[R] development dump

I just realized I never really said in detail [R]’s development stages on here, so here’s like a info dump of everything I came up with on my oc server + some extras I haven’t said yet!

‘Newborn’ [R]:

* Stage lasted through the moment he first gained consciousness after being removed from his vat, until his first ‘birthday’.

* Had ghastly pale skin, for the first few days of his existence it was almost translucent and was extremely frail.

* Vocal cords are deformed due to neck mouth, couldn’t speak properly for the first few months, only groans and whines.

* Has the physical age of 20~, the mental age of 1-3.

* Poor motor control over all of his limbs, could only use his ‘normal’ set of arms (the ones naturally placed to his shoulders) to grab items or to interact with Lawrence.

* Struggled to retain information, any information taught to him easily left his memory.

* Couldn’t handle common pathogens, so he wasn’t really given anything to do (blocks, books, etc) for fear of exposure. Lawrence didn’t want to risk exposing [R] to anything, hence spending time with him in the hazmat suit, thus having [R] view Lawrence’s appearance as ‘normal’.

* Struggled to chew anything, so was forced to eat nutrient paste in tubes, and only drank water, but had to be assisted.

* Spent time nude for the first week or so, was later finally clothed with caution, as they worried for his skin rubbing and breaking against fabric. Needs assistance in getting clothed, dislikes putting on pants due to how complicated it is due to his messed up lower torso.

* Had to be gently bathed, as water was somewhat painful for him, even at lukewarm temperatures.

* Struggled to walk or even maintain standing up, spent most of his time sitting or lying down, and crawled to move around. [R] typically didn’t move far until stopping due to fatigue or panic.

* Cries a ton for unknown reasons, but it is a common ‘issue’ with all of the other freshly made clones. Lawrence can only assume it’s [R]’s mind getting overwhelmed with the concept of existing, and originally having the mental capacity to only handle having a ‘normal’ amount of body parts, while ironically having a body with a surplus of parts.

* Only has very basic and rudimentary emotions, such as joy, fear, and sadness. Hasn’t experienced any developed or intense emotions yet.

* Mid and lower sets of arms tend to be wrapped around [R]’s waist, as if he’s holding himself in the same position he had while germinating in the vat.

* Doesn’t know any colors except for white, yellow, blue, the same colors of the secured room he’s in, Lawrence’s hazmat suit, and his yellow shirt.

‘Young’ [R]

* Stage lasted through after his 1st ‘birthday’, the transport incident, until his 3rd ‘birthday’ while at the station.

* Skin tone has finally developed more, is still incredibly pale but not as translucent-like anymore. Is incredibly fragile to natural light or harsh light, getting burned is incredibly painful and numbing for [R].

* [R] can finally speak, but is terribly poor at it. Has developed a heavy stutter and slur, can barely finish a sentence without completely butchering it. Knows a decent amount of vocabulary and terminologies, but is still incredibly naive of ‘outside speaking’. Can be seen as having a elementary student’s depth of writing.

* Physical age is still 20~, but mental age is now 7-12, a large increase from his former stage. Later on after spending three years at the station, his mental age became 15-17, after being exposed to more.... mature topics and ‘outside’ culture.....

* Finally developed better motor control over his limbs. Second set of arms (underneath the ‘normal’ ones attached at the shoulders) is now just as dexterous as the first set. Third and fourth sets are still quite weak in comparison, both in terms of nerve responses and physical strength.

* Now retains information much more easily, but can get overwhelmed with too much info or experiences at once. [R] is more of a visual learner though, and enjoys reading books. Doesn’t mind being told stories and explanations by B055 though.

* Still somewhat frail to common pathogens. Wears the experimental high-end hazmat suit given to him by Lawrence that helped him greatly in terms of keeping him healthy and having a disguise to look ‘more normal’. Can handle being fully exposed to natural air for a few hours, but then must retreat to either his suit or constant sterilized room. His chances of getting sick are still high, and can be easily fatal.

* Finally learned how to chew on his own, but has a very strict diet of nutrient paste cubes. Due to his bizarre anatomy and size, his daily intake of vital nutrients is MUCH higher when compared to a normal human. The cubes help make him reach the (guesstimated) amount he needs, and avoids spending much on food. If [R] ate the amount he needed with ‘normal people food’, it would engorge him every day. Suffers from hunger pangs daily, due to eating so little physical matter thanks to the cubes, so he takes any chance to eat free food from the station’s office or if gifted food by Devon, Ren, B055, etc.

* Can clothe himself on his own, still struggles with putting on pants, as his legs are still quite splayed.

* Can bathe on his own, but still feels slight pain against his skin when showering. Favors bathing in the tub when he could fit. Is slightly hydrophobic due to heavy rain slamming against his suit during the transfer incident, thus imprinting the physical feeling and loud sound to his memory, thus having a negative reaction to water in genral.

* Walks somewhat normal, as [R] forces his legs to stay facing straight and not splaying to the sides (akin to a spider) when moving. Tends to knock things over by accident and also occasionally stumbles on himself, but hasn’t fallen over much at all.

* Doesn’t cry much anymore, and if [R] does, it’s out of confusion or shame. Tends to tear up while sleeping, it is unknown if [R] suffers from nightmares as he claims he cannot remember anything at all while dreaming.

* Finally started to experience and develop more deeper emotions such as anger, rage, paranoia, mania, regret, love, embarrassment, etc. Still tends to have a happy-go-lucky demeanor, thankfully.

* [R] soon realized that he’s developed a oddly sharp sense of sight, but only when all of his ‘additional’ eyes have been closed, leaving his ‘normally placed’ set open. He cannot fully explain what he sees, only claiming that things look more ‘detailed’ than usual, and he feels slightly lightheaded after each attempt.

* Cannot handle flashing lights or colors, [R] unfortunately learned this the hard way while being escorted by Devon through Times Square, where he had a faint memory of being there during the incident and felt the urge to be there again.

* Has developed a sense of creativity, as where before he froze up when presented with simple commands to ‘draw anything’. Typically only draws with crayon or coloring pencil, other mediums seem to be too hard for him to handle the complexity of.

‘Adolescent’ [R]

* Stage lasted only less than a year after turning ‘3’, the fastest stage of development [R] endured, but is certainly the most impactful.

* Physical age is now mid 20~, mental age is 18-20. Is more in tune with his emotions and actions, and thinks much more rationally than before.

* At first, Lydia just assumed that [R]’s physical growth was stunted. It seemed like that was the case, as he didn’t change much over the last 3~ years of his existence, and after reviewing the most she could off of his technically destroyed records, she told [R] that he should be reaching his peak soon. She was sorely mistaken.

* The first instance of [R]’s ‘puberty’ was the sudden increase in back pain. Soon, he started to talk about how strained he felt, along with suddenly feeling more heavy.

* About a month in, [R]’s health state started to dwindle more, he soon couldn’t fit into his suit anymore, as he’s grown two inches and the suit’s helmet doesn’t lock in place anymore. This soon marked the date where [R] couldn’t spend more time outside anymore.....

* Immediately becomes overwhelmed with migraines and other head pains, and no amount of pills or paste could help him. Became bedridden within a week after not fitting well into his suit anymore.

* First real change was height, as it seemed to be the initial cause of his sudden illness, Lydia documented his progression. Almost three inches or more every month.

* [R]’s body became more wide, as his muscle mass started to increase exponentially. He always had a frail yet lean physique, due to not having to exercise thanks to his diet and body nature. The growth was progressive, starting at his core, then upper torso, then finally making it’s way down his torso.

* After just six months, [R]’s body type shifted from being somewhat ectomorphic to extremely mesomorphic. [R] couldn’t move his limbs much, due to the increased mass and weight, and regressed almost to his ‘newborn’ phase in terms of motor control.

* [R]’s legs weren’t spared either, and if he could try walking again, it would be much, much more harder to keep his legs facing straight now.

* Now with a broader neck, his neck mouth has slightly warped to be much larger and wider, much to his dismay. It seems to be much more..... emotive.... as if it’s showing off his true repressed emotions, even if it’s not coordinating with the emotion he’s portraying on his face.

* Bone mass also grew alongside muscle mass, and [R] poorly readjusted to it, as it only added more weight to his body, and he mentally wasn’t used to it yet at all.

* Suffered from much more intense hunger pangs, even resorted to developing pica, much to Lydia’s horror. (Was caught eating his own clothes and the bed frame, and couldn’t properly explain WHY he did it) Caved in to letting him eat things out of his diet, but inadvertently making him crave much more physical food to consume. This, being a byproduct of his body using up so much energy and fuel to develop his physique more.

* Mental health soon drained afterwards, as days upon weeks upon months passed, with [R] being trapped within his dreadfully small room, with only visits from Lydia and B055, monitoring his development, giving hollow words of concern to calm him down. Just as he finally began to think more rationally, he quickly devolved back into thinking shattered thoughts and couldn’t focus properly anymore. Nightmares soon became more clear in his dreams, often of Lawrence and what [R] fears what he might become.

* Speech regressed, as his voice deepened suddenly, making him sound much more..... inhuman. Couldn’t come to terms with his deeper pitch and tone, and began to slur words along with talking over himself, breaking sentences while trying to relay his frantic thoughts to Lydia to record.

* Originally diagnosed with hyperdontia, his excess sets of teeth were removed during his ‘newborn’ phase to help him eat. It has come back to haunt him, as the source of the pounding migraines came from growing rows of teeth from where they used to be. This time, only larger and wider, for every single mouth. He bled for weeks.

* Lydia contemplated just..... putting him down. Seeing [R] in this torturous state was not only painful to watch, but deeply traumatic for her and B055 to see essentially their ‘son’ endure the overwhelming pain. Quite ironic, as she viewed him as a problem to hide, and never viewed him in high regard.

* Had a episode where he couldn’t take the room anymore and violently threw himself off of his bed, and tried to exit the room. Lydia wasn’t there that day, and B055 was in his office space. He soon realized [R] was moving, upon hearing his distorted moans, while the floorboards shuddered underneath every footstep he took. [R] eventually collapsed after just walking a mere foot from the bedroom’s doorframe. B055 could hear the moment he fell, and the hysteric laughing and cries that companied it.

* [R] eventually was put into a induced coma, against B055’s wishes. They now can only hope his body can stop going through this ungodly stage of puberty, caused in part of his forced growth development, the very thing that made him technically a adult upon his ‘birth’.

‘Matured’ [R]

* Physical age is still mid 20~, mental age has finally caught up, peaking at mid 20~.

* Unfortunately as a loss from his ‘adolescent’ stage, [R] has developed some..... issues that weren’t present before. Finally started to think rationally again, and acts much more mature than any of his phases. Tends to get overwhelmed during instances where ‘bad memories’ are brought up. Anger seems to be a more dominant emotion, but seems to stem from confusion or shock, than genuine rage. Isn’t as happy-go-lucky as before, but still REALLY tries to retain a positive daily outlook.

* Had to come with terms with his larger frame, and started to stagger a bit after starting to walk again. [R] can no longer keep all of his legs pointing forward, as he can throw off his sense of balance. Must walk like a spider now, something he loathes.

* Upper two sets of arms are now quite large and developed, but unfortunately his hands are too large for ‘normal things’. Not to mention that he also tends to accidentally crush anything he can hold in his grip.

* Lower two sets of arms aren’t as enlarged, almost retaining their previous appearance. Lowest set seems to be the most stunted, as they’re just the size of his ‘young’ stage, and seem more proportional to a normal human being. He can at least grab items easily with them, and doesn’t need to bend over much as they’re already quite low, nearing his waistline.

* Now experiences sexual urges, as before it was just having crushes. Due to his isolated nature (before accidentally meeting Cyrus) he was beyond frustrated and confused. Is mainly just touch starved though.

* Has gotten used to his deeper voice, but still stutters from time to time, a persistent issue still plaguing him.

* Still retains a majority of development from his ‘young’ stage, such as self-care, creativity, social understanding, etc, but is much more shy and concerned about his appearance now.

* Is back on his montoried diet, and has gotten to terms with the constant hunger pangs, but still occasionally gets away with ordering outside food, B055 just turns the other cheek.

[fallinnflower]

crush’d

vernon x reader (fluff, high school!au)

prompt: “I have no one to sit with at lunch so I sat at your table and now your friends are not-so subtly kicking you under the table. Now they’re very loudly whispering that your crush has shown up and oh my god. I have never seen you this red by the way.” 

When Hansol Vernon Chwe had first transferred to your school, you were smitten.

To say he’s attractive would be an understatement, and your friends teased you mercilessly for having a crush on the new kid; Jihoon especially, having met him in music class soon after and decided the boy was something of a mess (in a dorky, endearing way, you gathered). Their constant jokes didn’t stop your feelings from growing, however much you may have wanted them to. Hansol worked his way into your stupid little heart with each passing day and every dumb joke he made, even as he seemed to look straight through you.

It didn’t help that he was becoming friends with all of your friends, or that he was smart and talented and so optimistic that his mere presence could lighten up any situation.

You wouldn’t say you loved Hansol, but you sure as hell thought you could someday.

One of Jihoon’s many (gentle) criticisms was that Hansol was slow, which worked in your favor. It kept the doe-eyed boy from understanding the jokes made at your (collective) expense. On the flip side, he had a tendency to come to your rescue when he noticed you seemed uncomfortable, which didn’t help your feelings at all and just made the teasing afterwards that much worse.

Nobody had any clue if Hansol had an interest in anyone. His head was always at least half up in the clouds, mind on his self-produced music or some stupid joke he’d found on the internet, but you know for a fact that Seungkwan had made it his personal mission to solve that mystery before spring break rolled around. You did your best to squash the tiny bit of hope that rose in you at the thought, because what plan involving Seungkwan ever ended well for anyone but Seungkwan? None. Exactly. So you told yourself to focus on your studies and power through, even as Vernon seemed to get more attractive by the day and started sending you memes outside of the group chat (which made your stupid little heart flutter), because damn it you just weren’t going to let the boys win.

Hopefully.

You shouldn’t have been so naive, you thought, as to get relieved when the week leading up to spring break occurred with seemingly no progress being made on Seungkwan’s end. You should have known the bubbly boy had strings to pull within the student body, and that he would amp up the drama at the last possible moment just to get the best reaction out of you. You’d known the boy since you were kids and yet, somehow, he managed to surprise you.

Hansol was friends with everyone in a casual and fleeting sense. You had never known him to have an enemy, and with his somewhat capricious nature he had a habit of drifting from one group of people to the next seamlessly. As such, he tended to spend most lunch periods moving from table to table, and rarely ever at the one you sat at with the boys since you saw each other pretty often already.

The day before spring break, of course, the rarity occurred. You hadn’t noticed Hansol walking over, nor had you paid any particular attention to the fact that a seat was left open directly across the table from you, because you were too busy talking to Chan about your spring break plans to consider the implications of such a seemingly harmless object.

Little did you know.

Mere minutes into your lunch, Hansol suddenly arrived on the scene, looking confused and a bit concerned.

“Oh, hey, Hansol,” Seungkwan said, and you could tell from the tone in his voice that you’d both been set up. You looked away from everyone, focusing on your lunch. “Wanna sit down?”

“Sure, thanks,” he replied, and you could already feel the tips of your ears positively burning with blush.

“Look who’s here,” Chan whispered, and you promptly shoved your elbow into his ribs. He let out a quick breath, but managed to laugh at your expense nonetheless, which only made you more irritated. It didn’t help when you looked up at Jeonghan and he just winked. The audacity, really!

“So, do you have any plans for spring break?” You heard Soonyoung ask, and someone kicked your ankle just in time for you to look up and see Hansol shrug.

“Nah, I think I’ll just hang out with my sister.”

“Oh! You’re staying home for break too, aren’t you, Y/N?” You could kill Boo Seungkwan. You really could. You caught Vernon’s eyes for just a moment before nodding and taking a bite of your food, desperate for the lunch period to end already so you could escape—

“Maybe you two will end up seeing each other around,” Seokmin said, innocent to what was going on. Someone nudged your leg again under the table, and you shot a glare at Seungkwan as subtly as you could.

“Or maybe you could hang out!” Soonyoung offered.

“Sounds chill,” Hansol said, and you choked a little on your food, coughing into your fist. Someone kicked your foot under the table this time, and you could feel your face heating up as you sipped at your drink. Hansol leaned across the table a bit, eyebrows furrowed.

“You look kinda red, Y/N, are you feeling okay?” You nodded, still coughing a bit, and tried to smile at him. He pulled back, suddenly, glancing under the table.

“Did one of you just kick me?” He asked, and Seungkwan grinned apologetically.

“Sorry, it was an accident,” he said, looking meaningfully at you while Hansol was distracted. You tried your best not to look too hostile despite the fact you wanted to strangle half the people at the table.

You felt your phone buzz with a text, and glanced down to see you had a text from Jun telling you, essentially, that now was your chance. Despite the glare you tossed at him, you couldn’t help but blush when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. God, you hated everyone.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Y/N?” Hansol asked, and Seungkwan was quick to chime in,

“Yeah, you look pretty flushed. Maybe Hansol should walk you to the nurse’s office—”

“No!” You yelped, louder than you meant to, shrinking back in your seat before continuing, “I’m fine, it’s just warm in here.” Seungkwan shrugged, but Hansol continued to look at you with concern etched across his features, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

“Well, I’ll go outside with you, if you need some air,” he said, and you felt Chan’s foot edge against yours, nudging it so you foot lifted off the ground a bit.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“That’s probably a good idea, Y/N,” Jeonghan said, pouting slightly. “We don’t want you to get overheated in here.” Suddenly, Chan was on his feet and pulling your chair out for you, the scraping sound making you wince.

“I—”

“We’ll see you in class, Y/N!” Jun said as Chan gently pushed you away from the table, not even allowing you time to grab your backpack or the rest of your lunch. Hansol was standing too, though he looked a bit confused by the whole situation. Once the two of you had gotten far enough away from the table that they could no longer hear you, you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Sorry,” he said, and you jumped slightly, looking over to see Hansol nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I feel like I made things weird for you at lunch.”

“You didn’t,” you replied, probably too quickly, but you couldn’t bear to see the sad look on his face any longer. “They’re always like that, it’s fine."

The two of you walk past the buildings towards the front of the school, taking a seat on one of the wooden benches on the school lawn. You can’t help but notice your heartbeat slowing down the longer you’re with Hansol, slowly becoming more accustomed to his presence. Overall, he’s a very relaxing person, which you know is one of the things that drew you to him, deep down. You tilt your head back, taking in the sun, sighing contentedly.

“Hey, Y/N,” Hansol starts, and you hum in acknowledgment. “I know the guys were giving you a hard time, but… would you wanna hang out over break?”

You’re too startled to reply at first, first because he asked, and second because when you look at him he looks… nervous. You feel your heart start to flutter again, and Hansol leans back in his seat, fidgeting,

“If not, that’s fine, I just—”

“I’d love to,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. Hansol’s smile widens exponentially, showing off all his teeth and some of his gums, his eyes turning to crescents.

“Cool!” He says, and he looks as though he wants to say something else when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings. You shoot up off your seat, remembering you’d left your bag at the lunch table. Hansol stands up too, but you’ve already started away, calling your excuse over your shoulder.

“Just text me!” You say, and Hansol laughs, waving,

“See you around, Y/N.”

You turn around and run back into the building, missing the fond look on Hansol’s face as he watches you go.

Seungkwan may interrogate you immediately, but even that won’t take the smile off your face (that doesn’t mean you’re going to thank him or anything, though. He owes you lunch.)

[migleefulmoments]

There, I fixed it for you.

My Manifesto by @ajw720

  Nonnie Anon, fact, I need for D to be is closeted.  People Darren can deny it for the remainder of their his lives life, but it doesn’t his label does make him straight.  And that fact alone-that I do not understand how sexual identification and labels work- is sad and is a total injustice.  But I am going to answer this from the perspective that the closeting is a fact and how was it handled vs. how it could have been handled- aka how my fantasy could have played out.

When I see pics of D from the G/lee days, particularly pre her move, he is precisely what you say, a ball of sunshine. His smile is bright and infectious. He was a bright light, talking for hours about the things he loves. Sigh...I am in love He was young and not jaded by fame nor did he have a private life and love to protect. He was  “straight” was a part of the narrative, but it was a footnote, barely pushed.  Yes, she was in the background, but not in the spotlight. I believed Darren was straight back then so I didn’t pay any attention to questions about his sexuality or his lover. Present to make him straight-because he identifies as straight- but not overbearing. His girlfriend lived across the country and their relationship was new so he didn’t talk about her in interviews. His sexuality was commented on, but not incessantly. in almost every interview he gave in those early years. This is how you handle closeting, you don’t make it a focus and allow the subtly to speak for itself according to me because I’m a closeting expert.  Especially when the individual closeted clearly doesn’t want to hide his/her sexuality, which has been clear from the beginning as he has clearly and consistently said he is straight as early as a 2009 interview. D has done absolutely nothing to suggest he is not straight rebelled against it repeatedly and has attempted on numerous occasions to come out  at least in my head 

That is the version of D that people I fell in love with and that is what i believe is the real my fantasy d. And this fantasy version of D, since Season 4 starting when they moved her to LA, has been almost completely erased, meaning I have to work REALLY SUPER hard to make him seem real.  It happened slowly, the shift and changes were small at first-as one does in a new relationship-, but suddenly she became a part of the conversation, acknowledged as his gf, and by his side constantly-as one does in a relationship as it progresses from first meeting to dating to love They  She not only moved her to LA but put her got a job on the set of G/lee to act as a babysitter because it was in her field and commiserate with her experience.  And concurrent with her move was the introduction of W and the complete public break down of the CC friendship and this is when TPTB  fandom decided it was a good idea to start rumors that C&D hated each other. And then the “I am straight and have a gf” tour happened where he was forced got a little cheesy and decided to bring women on stage every night and sign sing PPG and that awful Pheromones so he could be every girl’s teenage dream and I’m pissed that I wasn’t one of those girls...or a teenager. 

And yes, this is when the questionable behavior began and D took on the straight frat boy douche persona around her because apparently I had not been paying any attention to Darren prior to this time. He wrote Me & My Dick years before this but I didn’t notice.  This is when we stopped getting the real D DAPPERMAN on SM and started getting his team and PBB posting in his name and every time he doesn’t sound like DAPPERMAN, I blame it on his team. This is one way I keep the fantasy Darren alive.  This is when the fandom began its great divide- those that believe that what they see is what they get, who accept Darren for who he is, and who enjoy the glimpses into his life that he shares versus those of us who have created an entirely false narrative that fits our fantasy. Being a ccer is exhausting because nothing Darren does fits our narrative and we constantly have to come up with excuses for why that is. Excuses like TPTB, contracts, his team pretending to be him on his social media, and how he is “forced” to sing songs on tour or say things in interviews or yell at 14 yo kids. Just read this manifesto and you will see all of the things we have to do to see our Darren.  and D was forced to   asked about his sexuality, just like he has been since he started doing interviews for Glee publicly address his . It seems to me that he was asked about his sexuality repeatedly which increased significantly during H/edwig and that sorta makes sense since he has now played two LGBTQ characters in a row and the questions were often asked by journalists whose job it is to actually get answers. Maybe I was just paying more attention to his sexuality because Hedwig was right when I discovered Crisscolfer.

But even during H/edwig - despite the sudden straight push -now 6 years into Darren saying he identified as straight- he was still bright and present (aka gay?).  He did as required, but on stage, at the stage door, in interviews, he was still D.  And then they sent him he went to Italy for 6 weeks to do a movie and during that time the shift happened. When he came back, the PR games were heightened aka Mia quit her job to travel with Darren and open their dream bar and it has only gotten exponentially worse every day that has passed since-at least for me.  She became not just his gf, but the absolute focal point of his public and private life ya know as couples in love tend to do.  This is when it became impossible to be a d fan without seeing her. This is when I became obsessed with hating and bullying Mia. This is when I started stalking her obsessively so that I am sure to see her. The stalking is all good, it’s part of my job to know what she is doing at all times so I can let the fandom know. 

And the problem with M is she is divisive to me and the ccers who are entitled to have a say in Darren’s personal life. She is on record treating fans deplorably even though there is NO record of her treating fans deplorably, I will continue to claim she does without giving any credible evidence this is true.. She made D yell at a 14 year old girl.  Darren is a big boy and 14 yo’s who behavior abhorrent shouldn’t get a pass so he told her off. She thrives on controversy and making D suffer. She sits in the background and lets Darren shine, rarely ever having anything to say when he is working and yet I obsess about what she is thinking and I pretend she really says all of the things I imagine in my jealousy-fueled head.  She has publicly treated him like an ass and has held herself out to be better than him and acts like he should be grateful she is in his life. She has only ever been gracious to fans but I am stark raving jealous and unhinged from reality so I make up all sorts of backstories to photos where Mia is simply standing next to Darren. Oh and I have never met her.  She acts like an elitist instead of being grateful for the very privileged life she lives because he family is filthy rich and her association with D. I’m so fucking jealous. Her friends are bratty and immature and they act like college students on their social media  that have has nothing to do with Darren’s  in life but party around the clock so  I am not sure why her friends matter to me except I’m on a role and I can’t stop. My friends are assholes (hey @flowersintheattic254, hey @cassie1022, hey Leka-1998) who bully a women they don’t even know and I’m still their friend... so maybe Mia’s friends shouldn’t matter to Darren’s fans.  She’s recorded herself rolling a joint in a parked car after a night of recording herself posting a handful of other pics were posted that night showing them having a good time. There was what looked like an alcoholic drink on a photo or two drinking and doesn’t even get reprimanded mooooommmm, MOM! Mia is rolling a joint...don’t touch me,...MOM! Don’t touch me, I’m going to tell mom..MOOOOOOOM! She wore a Tits of Clay band merch boobs shirt to the inaugural EF, an event marketed for families, to embarrass D and pull focus and I know this because she told me remember I make up all sorts of stories when I see a photo.  She claims she wants privacy but their entire public lives are blasted all over SM  I desperately stalk her, following everyone who might ever post a photo of her despite the fact that D has repeatedly stated he craves privacy he doesn’t social media and he is a private person who finds giving up his privacy really difficult and he is an emotional SENTIMENT hoarder I never get that right and has asked her not to post pics one time he told the story that when he was new to Glee, Mia posted a photo of the two of them on her Facebook that he wanted to keep for himself because he loved the photo so much.  She has not respect for him. She has a private Instagram and only posts pics of Darren on her public Snapchat when they go to big public events together. 

And D acts out around her more often than not.  Darren adores her. Add they now have him picking fights with fans on SM over her (we know it is not him but the GA doesn’t).  He pushes back when fans bully his wife. I pretend it isn’t him pushing back but it’s stupid for me to claim it isn’t him when it so clearly is him. If I accept it is him, then I have to think about my own behavior and the cc behavior that drives him to push back. Speaking of his SM, it is an absolutely mess punny and hilarious. This man is insanely intelligent, we all know two or three times he mentioned he has deleted and reposted things due to grammatical errors . and they represent him deplorably, fail to project his voice, and make him look like an asshole I hate punny silly Darren so I rage every time he posts in that voice. The only time I like him is if he is DAPPERMAN- boring, upstanding & polite and formal. 

Then we have the bar. Do not even get me started on the bar because I’m stark raving mad.  I do not understand how anyone can justify it and yet it is popular and people have a great time there.  He is the straight male owner of a bar that glorifies naked women, calls them sluts, names drinks after large breasts, has grotesque names like Period Sex (I WOULD NEVER) and Golden Showers (What is that?), cheap innuendo and theme nights that are beyond derogatory and yet, the more I think about it, that seems exactly like what a straight, male, bar owner would do. If I thought this was him DAPPERMAN and what he loves (as she ignores all of the times Darren has gushed about connecting to people through songs at the bar), I would turn away from him so fast my head would spin because I hate everything about Darren -the man he really is - but I know he is DAPPERMAN and he will come back to me.   Because that bar, that is misogynistic not my style... it makes me very uncomfortable, it’s too sex positive and at times it’s openly queer.  It’s filled with debauchery and I don’t understand it.  Not hating one woman because I am so jealous of her sexual freedom, her lifestyle, her money, her husband... I think she is pure evil even if everybody who knows her, loves her.

And of course, then we have the way he is presented in the press.  D has built a career playing LGBT+ roles.  His three major roles were gay, queer, gay.  And in every print article, we are reminded he is straight, often multiple times because when he first started playing Blaine, there weren’t a lot of straight men playing strong gay characters on TV.  Now we see that representation matters-asking an actor how he identifies during promo for his 3rd straight  LGBTQ role is hardly out of line.  And then they started making him repeatedly state it.  It is awkward and uncomfortable, He has consistently labeled himself as straight since 2009 and there is no evidence to suggest he is not straight but I can’t stop fantasizing. It makes me angry when I am faced with him reminding me he is straight.  It makes him look ungrateful to the community that he used to get ahead and frankly, makes him sound completely insecure.  I don’t like him if he isn’t gay. I don’t care that he never took advantage of the gay community by pretending to be gay or that he has always been a strong ally, all I can see or hear is “I'm straight”.  I want him to be gay and that is all that matters.  Like he can only play queer if he can repeatedly assert he is straight. Absolute mess. I don’t care that by repeatedly asserting he is straight, he is telling the truth, THIS IS ABOUT WHAT I WANT.  MOOOOOOMMMMMM. I dare anyone to find any other straight actor that addresses their sexuality as often.  You won’t find one. (James Franco)

I’m so jealous I can’t see straight and all I see is an unrealistic  And because of this narrative they have weaved, purely to elevate her, and they have torn him down, they have made him look like a straight jerk in love with a spoiled brat woman. I  hate her I hate her I hate her. Mooooommmm!  Sorry, i know i will get  deserve hate, but it is the my truth unrelated to Darren’s reality. And I’m not just a spoiled brat, I’m a hateful one.  There is nothing redeeming about her ME.

Instead they should have gotten him a respectful beard- ME, who was present but not a focus ME and not beaten into our heads that he is straight (isn’t that how beards work?).  They could have sold straight and done it respectfully and in a manner that i could have accepted by me.  No, I am not accepting closeting and i don’t think it is ok, but again, clearly the closeting was demanded by RIB-Ryan an important out, gay activist and F/ox in a contract they signed 9 years ago...when will it end? and if it had to be the narrative it could have been done in a manner that would have allowed D to remain true to himself and that means gay. They could have got a beard that let him be gay.   

And at this point, they just are making things worse and no one is winning anything.(isn’t everyone but Darren winning in this scenario?) They should free D -let him be GAY -and put him ME out of his MY misery because no amount of promo is going to make her famous outside of her stans as long as she has a private instagram account and Darren doesn't tag her or even post her photo. She just isn’t interesting- I am interesting.  This sham fanfiction I wrote has gone on way too long and completely spun out of control -I can’t make heads or tails out of it anymore- and it is NOT doing no one ME any favors except continuing to hide the my truth, the one thing his team I needs and wants, because MY the truth isn’t pretty.